The cathedral has a sweet chime of bells, whose soft, liquid notes came to us across the water of the bay with touching cadence at the Angelus hour. It must be a sadly calloused heart which fails to respond to these twilight sounds in an isle of the Caribbean Sea. Millet's impressive picture was vividly recalled as we sat upon the deck and listened to those bells, whose notes floated softly upon the air as if bidding farewell to the lingering daylight. At the moment, all else being so still, it seemed as though one's heartbeat could be heard, while the senses were bathed in a tranquil gladness incited by the surrounding scenery and the suggestiveness of the hour.
Three fourths of the population are half-breeds, born of whites, blacks, or mulattoes, with a possible strain of Carib blood in their veins, the result of which is sometimes a very handsome type of bronzed hue, but of Circassian features. Some of the young women of the better class are very attractive, with complexions of a gypsy color, like the artists' models who frequent the "Spanish Stairs" leading to the Trinità di Monti, at Rome. These girls possess deep, dark eyes, pearly teeth, with good figures, upright and supple as the palms. In dress they affect all the colors of the rainbow, presenting oftentimes a charming audacity of contrasts, and somehow it seems to be quite the thing for them to do so; it accords perfectly with their complexions, with the climate, with everything tropical. The many-colored Madras kerchief is universally worn by the common class of women, twisted into a jaunty turban, with one well-starched end ingeniously arranged so as to stand upright like a soldier's plume. The love of ornament is displayed by the wearing of hoop earrings of enormous size, together with triple strings of gold beads, and bracelets of the same material. If any one imagines he has seen larger sized hoop earrings this side of Africa, he is mistaken. They are more like bangles than earrings, hanging down so as to rest upon the neck and shoulders. Those who cannot afford the genuine article satisfy their vanity with gaudy imitations. They form a very curious and interesting study, these black, brown, and yellow people, both men and women. In the market-place at the north end of the town, the women preside over their bananas, oranges, and other fruits, in groups, squatting like Asiatics on their heels. In the Havana fish market, one compares the variety of colors exhibited by the fishes exposed for sale to those of the kaleidoscope, but here the Cuban display is equaled if not surpassed.
St. Pierre has a botanical garden, situated about a mile from the centre of the town, so located as to admit of utilizing a portion of the native forest yet left standing, with here and there an impenetrable growth of the feathery bamboo, king of the grasses, interspersed with the royal palm and lighter green tree-ferns. The bamboo is a marvel, single stems of it often attaining a height in tropical regions of a hundred and seventy feet, and a diameter of a foot. So rapid is its growth that it is sometimes known to attain the height of a hundred feet in sixty days. Art has done something to improve the advantages afforded by nature in this botanical garden, arranging some pretty lakes, fountains, and cascades. Vistas have been cut through the dense undergrowth, and driveways have been made, thus improving the rather neglected grounds. One pretty lake of considerable size contains three or four small islands, covered with flowering plants, while on the shore are pretty summer houses and inviting arbors. The frangipanni, tall and almost leafless, but with thick, fleshy shoots and a broad-spread, single leaf, was recognized here among other interesting plants. This is the fragrant flower mentioned by the early discoverers. There was also the parti-colored passion-flower, and groups of odd-shaped cacti, whose thick, green leaves were daintily rimmed with an odorless yellow bloom. Here, also, is an interesting example of the ceba-tree, in whose shade a hundred persons might banquet together. The author has seen specimens of the ceba superbly developed in Cuba and the Bahamas, with its massive and curiously buttressed trunk, having the large roots half above ground. It is a solitary tree, growing to a large size and enjoying great longevity. Mangoes abound here, the finest known as themango d'or. There is a certain air about the public garden of St. Pierre, indicating that nature is permitted in a large degree to have her own sweet will. Evidences enough remain to show the visitor that these grounds must once have been in a much more presentable condition. There is a musical cascade, which is well worth a long walk to see and enjoy. Just inside of the entrance, one spot was all ablaze with a tiny yellow flower, best known to us as English broom,Cytisus genista. Its profuse but delicate bloom was dazzling beneath the bright sun's rays. Could it possibly be indigenous? No one could tell us. Probably some resident brought it hither from his home across the ocean, and it has kindly adapted itself to the new soil and climate.
We were cautioned to look out for and to avoid a certain poisonous snake, a malignant reptile, with fatal fangs, which is the dread of the inhabitants, some of whom are said to die every year from the venom of the creature. It will be remembered that one of these snakes, known here as thefer-de-lance, bit Josephine, the future empress, when she was very young, and that her faithful negro nurse saved the child's life by instantly drawing the poison from the wound with her own lips. It is singular that this island, and that of St. Lucia, directly south of it, should be cursed by the presence of these poisonous creatures, which do not exist in any other of the West Indian islands, and, indeed, so far as we know, are not to be found anywhere else. The fer-de-lance has one fatal enemy. This is a large snake, harmless so far as poisonous fangs are concerned, called thecribo. This reptile fearlessly attacks the fer-de-lance, and kills and eats him in spite of his venom, a perfectly justifiable if not gratifying instance of cannibalism, where a creature eats and relishes the body of one of its own species. The domestic cat is said also to be more than a match for the dreaded snake, and instinctively adopts a style of attack which, while protecting itself, finally closes the contest by the death of the fer-de-lance, which it seizes just back of the head at the spine, and does not let go until it has severed the head from the body; and even then instinct teaches the cat to avoid the head, for though it be severed from the body, like the mouth of a turtle under similar circumstances, it can still inflict a serious wound.
The fer-de-lance is a great destroyer of rats, this rodent forming its principal source of food. Now as rats are almost as much of a pest upon the island, and especially on the sugar plantations, as rabbits are in New Zealand, it will be seen that even the existence of this poisonous snake is not an unmitigated evil.
Crosses and wayside shrines of a very humble character are to be seen in all directions on the roadsides leading from St. Pierre, recalling similar structures which line the inland roads of Japan, where the local religion finds like public expression, only varying in the character of the emblems. At Martinique it is a Christ or a Madonna; in Japan it is a crude idol of some sort, the more hideous, the more appropriate. The same idea is to be seen carried out in the streets of Canton and Shanghai, only Chinese idols are a degree more unlike anything upon or below the earth than they are elsewhere.
It was observed that while there were plenty of masculine loafers and careless idlers of various colors, whose whole occupation seemed to be sucking at some form of burning tobacco in the shape of cigarette, cigar, or pipe, the women, of whatever complexion, seen in public, were all usefully employed. They are industrious by instinct; one almost never sees them in repose. In the transportation of all articles of domestic use, women bear them upon their heads, whether the article weighs one pound or fifty, balancing their load without making use of the hands except to place the article in position. The women not infrequently have also a baby upon their backs at the same time. Negresses and donkeys perform nine tenths of the transportation of merchandise. Wheeled vehicles are very little used in the West Indian islands. As we have seen, even in coaling ship, it is the women who do the work.
The Hotel des Bains, at St. Pierre, is an excellent hostelry, as such places go in this part of the world. The stranger will find here most of the requisites for domestic comfort, and at reasonable prices. As a health resort the place has its advantages, and a northern invalid, wishing to escape the rigor of a New England winter, would doubtless find much to occupy and recuperate him here. St. Pierre, however, has times of serious epidemic sickness, though this does not often happen in the winter season. Three or four years ago the island was visited by a sweeping epidemic of small-pox, but it raged almost entirely among the lowest classes, principally among the negroes, who seem to have a great prejudice and superstitious fear relating to vaccination, and its employment as a preventive against contracting the disease. In the yellow fever season the city suffers more or less, but the health of St. Pierre will average as good as that of our extreme Southern States; and yet, after all, with the earthquakes, hurricanes, tarantulas, scorpions, and deadly fer-de-lance, as Artemus Ward would say, Martinique presents many characteristics to recommend protracted absence. A brief visit is like a poem to be remembered, but one soon gets a surfeit of the circumscribed island.
Our next objective point was Barbadoes, to reach which we sailed one hundred and fifty miles to the eastward, this most important of the Lesser Antilles being situated further to windward, that is, nearer the continent of Europe. Our ponderous anchor came up at early morning, just as the sun rose out of the long, level reach of waters. It looked like a mammoth ball of fire, which had been immersed during the hours of the night countless fathoms below the sea. Presently everything was aglow with light and warmth, while the atmosphere seemed full of infinitesimal particles of glittering gold. At first one could watch the face of the rising sun, as it came peering above the sea, a sort of fascination impelling the observer to do so, but after a few moments, no human eye could bear its dazzling splendor.
Said an honest old Marshfield farmer, in 1776, who met the clergyman of the village very early in the opening day: "Ah, good mornin', Parson, another fine day," nodding significantly towards the sun just appearing above the cloudless horizon of Massachusetts Bay. "They do say the airth moves, and the sun stands still; but you and I, Parson, we git up airly and weseeit rise!"
English Island of Barbadoes.—Bridgetown the Capital.—The Manufacture of Rum.—A Geographical Expert.—Very English.—A Pest of Ants.—Exports.—The Ice House.—A Dense Population.—Educational.—Marine Hotel.—Habits of Gambling.—Hurricanes.—Curious Antiquities.—The Barbadoes Leg.—Wakeful Dreams.—Absence of Twilight.—Departure from the Island.
Bridgetown is the capital of Barbadoes, an English island which, unlike St. Thomas, is a highly cultivated sugar plantation from shore to shore. In natural beauty, however, it will not compare with Martinique. It is by no means picturesquely beautiful, like most of the West Indian islands, being quite devoid of their thick tropical verdure. Nature is here absolutely beaten out of the field by excessive cultivation. Thirty thousand acres of sugar-cane are cut annually, yielding, according to late statistics, about seventy thousand hogsheads of sugar. We are sorry to add that there are twenty-three rum distilleries on the island, which do pecuniarily a thriving business. "The poorest molasses makes the best rum," said an experienced manager to us. He might well have added that it is also the poorest use to which it could be put. This spirit, like all produced in the West Indies, is called Jamaica rum, and though a certain amount of it is still shipped to the coast of Africa, the return cargoes no longer consist of kidnapped negroes. The article known as New England rum, still manufactured in the neighborhood of Boston, has always disputed the African market, so to speak, with the product of these islands. Rum is the bane of Africa, just as opium is of China, the former thrust upon the native races by Americans, the latter upon the Chinese by English merchants, backed by the British government. Events follow each other so swiftly in modern times as to become half forgotten by contemporary people, but there are those among us who remember when China as a nation tried to stop the importation of the deadly drug yielded by the poppy fields of India, whereupon England forced the article upon her at the point of the bayonet.
Bridgetown is situated at the west end of the island on the open roadstead of Carlisle Bay, and has a population of over twenty-five thousand. Barbadoes lies about eighty miles to the windward of St. Vincent, its nearest neighbor, and is separated from Europe by four thousand miles of the Atlantic Ocean. It is comparatively removed from the chain formed by the Windward Isles, its situation being so isolated that it remained almost unnoticed until a century had passed after Columbus's first discovery in these waters. The area of the British possessions in the West Indies is about one seventh of the islands. It is often stated that Barbadoes is nearly as large as the Isle of Wight, but the fact is, it exceeds that island in superficial area, being a little over fifty-five miles in circumference. The reader will perhaps remember that it was here Addison laid the scene of his touching story of "Inkle and Yarico," published so many years ago in the "Spectator."
Though it is not particularly well laid out, Bridgetown makes a very pleasing picture, as a whole, when seen from the harbor. Here and there a busy windmill is mixed with tall and verdant tropical trees, backed by far-reaching fields of yellow sugar-cane, together with low, sloping hills. The buildings are mostly of stone, or coral rock, and the town follows the graceful curve of the bay. The streets are macadamized and lighted with gas, but are far too narrow for business purposes. The island is about twenty-one miles long and between fourteen and fifteen broad, the shores being nearly inclosed in a cordon of coral reefs, some of which extend for two or three miles seaward, demanding of navigators the greatest care on seeking a landing, though the course into the roads to a suitable anchorage is carefully buoyed.
Barbadoes was originally settled by the Portuguese, who here found the branches of a certain forest tree covered with hair-like hanging moss, from whence its somewhat peculiar name, Barbadoes, or the "bearded place," is supposed to have been derived. Probably this was the Indian fig-tree, still found here, and which lives for many centuries, growing to enormous proportions. In India, Ceylon, and elsewhere in Asia, it is held sacred. The author has seen one of these trees at Kandy, in the island of Ceylon, under which sacred rites have taken place constantly for a thousand years or more, and whose widespread branches could shelter five hundred people from the heat of the sun. It stands close by the famous old Buddhist temple wherein is preserved the tooth of the prophet, and before which devout Indians prostrate themselves daily, coming from long distances to do so. Indeed, Kandy is the Mecca of Ceylon.
A good share of even the reading public of England would be puzzled to tell an inquirer exactly where Barbadoes is situated, while most of those who have any idea about it have gained such knowledge as they possess from Captain Marryat's clever novel of "Peter Simple," where the account is, to be sure, meagre enough. Still later, those who have read Anthony Trollope's "West Indies and the Spanish Main" have got from the flippant pages of that book some idea of the island, though it is a very disagreeable example of Trollope's pedantic style.
"Barbadoes? Barbadoes?" said a society man to the writer of these pages, in all seriousness, just as he was about to sail from New York, "that's on the coast of Africa, is it not?" "Oh, no," was the reply, "it is one of the islands of the Lesser Antilles."
"Where are the Antilles, pray?" "You must surely know."
"But I do not, nevertheless; haven't the remotest idea. Fact is, geography never was one of my strong points."
With which remark we silently agreed, and yet our friend is reckoned to be a fairly educated, cultured person, as these expressions are commonly used. Probably he represents the average geographical knowledge of one half the people to be met with in miscellaneous society.
This is the first English possession where the sugarcane was planted, and is one of the most ancient colonies of Great Britain. It bears no resemblance to the other islands in these waters, that is, topographically, nor, indeed, in the character of its population, being entirely English. The place might be a bit taken out of any shire town of the British home island, were it only a little more cleanly and less unsavory; still it is more English than West Indian. The manners and customs are all similar to those of the people of that nationality; the negroes, and their descendants of mixed blood, speak the same tongue as the denizens of St. Giles, London. The island has often been called "Little England." There is no reliable history of Barbadoes before the period when Great Britain took possession of it, some two hundred and sixty years ago. Government House is a rather plain but pretentious dwelling, where the governor has his official and domestic residence. In its rear there is a garden, often spoken of by visitors, which is beautified by some of the choicest trees and shrubs of this latitude. It is really surprising how much a refined taste and skillful gardening can accomplish in so circumscribed a space.
Barbadoes is somewhat remarkable as producing a variety of minerals; among which are coal, manganese, iron, kaolin, and yellow ochre. There are also one or two localities on the island where a flow of petroleum is found, of which some use is made. It is called Barbadoes tar, and were the supply sufficient to warrant the use of refining machinery, it would undoubtedly produce a good burning fluid. There is a "burning well," situated in what is known as the Scotland District, where the water emerging from the earth forms a pool, which is kept in a state of ebullition from the inflammable air or gas which passes through it. This gas, when lighted by a match, burns freely until extinguished by artificial means, not rising in large enough quantities to make a great flame, but still sufficient to create the effect of burning water, and forming quite a curiosity.
There are no mountains on the island, but the land is undulating, and broken into hills and dales; one elevation, known as Mount Hillaby, reaches a thousand feet and more above the level of tide waters.
One of the most serious pests ever known at Barbadoes was the introduction of ants, by slave-ships from Africa. No expedient of human ingenuity served to rid the place of their destructive presence, and it was at one time seriously proposed to abandon the island on this account. After a certain period nature came to the rescue. She does all things royally, and the hurricane of 1780 completely annihilated the vermin. Verily, it was appropriate to call Barbadoes in those days theAntilles! It appears that there is no affliction quite unmixed with good, and that we must put a certain degree of faith in the law of compensation, however great the seeming evil under which we suffer. To our limited power of comprehension, a destructive hurricane does seem an extreme resort by which to crush out an insect pest. The query might even arise, with some minds, whether the cure was not worse than the disorder.
The exports from the island consist almost wholly of molasses, sugar, and rum, products of the cane, which grows all over the place, in every nook and corner, from hilltop to water's edge. The annual export, as already intimated, is considerably over sixty thousand hogsheads. Sugar cannot, however, be called king of any one section, since half of the amount manufactured in the whole world is the product of the beet root, the growth of which is liberally subsidized by more than one European government, in order to foster local industry. Like St. Thomas, this island has been almost denuded of its forest growth, and is occasionally liable, as we have seen, to destructive hurricanes.
Bridgetown is a place of considerable progress, having several benevolent and educational institutions; it also possesses railway, telephone, and telegraphic service. Its export trade aggregates over seven million dollars per annum, to accommodate which amount of commerce causes a busy scene nearly all the time in the harbor. The steam railway referred to connects the capital with the Parish of St. Andrews, twenty-one miles away on the other side of the island, its terminus being at the thrifty little town of Bathsheba, a popular resort, which is noted for its fine beach and excellent sea bathing.
The cathedral is consecrated to the established religion of the Church of England, and is a picturesque, time-worn building, surrounded, after the style of rural England, by a quaint old graveyard, the monuments and slabs of which are gray and moss-grown, some of them bearing dates of the earlier portion of the sixteenth century. This spot forms a very lovely, peaceful picture, where the graves are shaded by tree-ferns and stately palms. Somehow one cannot but miss the tall, slim cypress, which to the European and American eye seems so especially appropriate to such a spot. There were clusters of low-growing mignonette, which gave out a faint perfume exactly suited to the solemn shades which prevailed, and here and there bits of ground enameled with blue-eyed violets. The walls of the inside of the church are covered with memorial tablets, and there is an organ of great power and sweetness of tone.
The "Ice House," so called, at Bridgetown is a popular resort, which everybody visits who comes to Barbadoes. Here one can find files of all the latest American and European papers, an excellent café, with drinks and refreshments of every conceivable character, and can purchase almost any desired article from a toothpick to a set of parlor furniture. It is a public library, an exchange, a "Bon Marché," and an artificial ice manufactory, all combined. Strangers naturally make it a place of rendezvous. It seemed to command rather more of the average citizen's attention than did legitimate business, and one is forced to admit that although the drinks which were so generously dispensed were cool and appetizing, they were also very potent. It was observed that some individuals, who came into the hospitable doors rather sober and dejected in expression of features, were apt to go out just a little jolly.
The Ice House is an institution of these islands, to be found at St. Thomas, Demerara, and Trinidad, as well as at Barbadoes. Havana has a similar retreat, but calls it a café, situated on the Paseo, near the Tacon Theatre.
The population of the island amounts to about one hundred and seventy-two thousand,—the census of 1881 showed it to be a trifle less than this,—giving the remarkable density of one thousand and more persons to the square mile, thus forming an immense human beehive. It is the only one of the West Indian islands from which a certain amount of emigration is necessary annually. The large negro population makes labor almost incredibly cheap, field-hands on the plantations being paid only one shilling per day; and yet, so ardent is their love of home—and the island is home to them—that only a few can be induced to leave it in search of better wages. When it is remembered that the State of Massachusetts, which is considered to be one of the most thickly populated sections of the United States, contains but two hundred and twenty persons to the square mile, the fact that this West Indian island supports over one thousand inhabitants in the same average space will be more fully appreciated. Notwithstanding this crowded state of the population, we were intelligently informed that while petty offenses are common, there is a marked absence of serious crimes.
One sees few if any signs of poverty here. It is a land of sugar-cane, yams, and sweet potatoes, very prolific, and very easily tilled. Some of the most prosperous men on the island are colored planters, who own their large establishments, though born slaves, perhaps on the very ground they now own. They have by strict economy and industry saved money enough to make a fair beginning, and in the course of years have gradually acquired wealth. One plantation, owned by a colored man, born of slave parents, was pointed out to us, with the information that it was worth twenty thousand pounds sterling, and that its last year's crop yielded over three hundred hogsheads of sugar, besides a considerable quantity of molasses.
England maintains at heavy expense a military depot here, from which to draw under certain circumstances. There is no local necessity for supporting such a force. Georgetown is a busy place. Being the most seaward of the West Indies, it has become the chief port of call for ships navigating these seas. The Caribbees are divided by geographers into the Windward and Leeward islands, in accordance with the direction in which they lie with regard to the prevailing winds. They are in very deep water, the neighboring sea having a mean depth of fifteen hundred fathoms. Being so far eastward, Barbadoes enjoys an exceptionally equable climate, and it is claimed for it that it has a lower thermometer than any other West Indian island. Its latitude is 13° 4' north, longitude 59° 37' west, within eight hundred miles of the equator. The prevailing wind blows from the northeast, over the broad, unobstructed Atlantic, rendering the evenings almost always delightfully cool, tempered by this grateful tonic breath of the ocean.
Trafalgar Square, Bridgetown, contains a handsome fountain, and a bronze statue of Nelson which, as a work of art, is simply atrocious. From this broad, open square the tramway cars start, and it also forms a general business centre.
The home government supports, besides its other troops, a regiment of negroes uniformed as Zouaves and officered by white men. The police of Bridgetown are also colored men. Slavery was abolished here in 1833. Everything is so thoroughly English, that only the temperature, together with the vegetation, tells the story of latitude and longitude. The soil has been so closely cultivated as to have become partially exhausted, and this is the only West Indian island, if we are correctly informed, where artificial enrichment is considered necessary to stimulate the native soil, or where it has ever been freely used. "I question," said an intelligent planter to us, "whether we should not be better off to-day, if we had not so overstimulated, in fact, burned out, our land with guano and phosphates." These are to the ground like intoxicants to human beings,—if over-indulged in they are fatal, and even the partial use is of questionable advantage. The Chinese and Japanese apply only domestic refuse in their fields as a manure, and no people obtain such grand results as they do in agriculture. They know nothing of patent preparations employed for such purposes, and yet will render a spot of ground profitable which a European would look upon as absolutely not worth cultivating.
In any direction from Bridgetown going inland, miles upon miles of plantations are seen bearing the bright green sugar-cane, turning to yellow as it ripens, and giving splendid promise for the harvest. Here and there are grouped a low cluster of cabins, which form the quarters of the negroes attached to the plantation, while close at hand the tall chimney of the sugar mill looms over the surrounding foliage. A little one side, shaded by some palms, is the planter's neat and attractive residence, painted snow white, in contrast to the deep greenery surrounding it, and having a few flower beds in its front.
The Marine Hotel, which is admirably situated on a rocky point at Hastings, three hundred feet above the beach, is about a league from the city, and forms a favorite resort for the townspeople. The house is capable of accommodating three hundred guests at a time. Its spacious piazzas fronting the ocean are constantly fanned by the northeast trades from October to March. Some New York families regard the place as a choice winter resort, the thermometer rarely indicating over 80° Fahr., or falling below 70°. This suburb of Hastings is the location of the army barracks, where a broad plain affords admirable space for drill and military manœuvres. There is a monument at Hastings, raised to the memory of the victims of the hurricane of 1831, which seems to be rather unpleasantly suggestive of future possibilities. Near at hand is a well-arranged mile racecourse, a spot very dear to the army officers, where during the racing season any amount of money is lost and won. There seems to be something in this tropical climate which incites to all sorts of gambling, and the habit among the people is so common as to be looked upon with great leniency. Just so, at some of the summer resorts of the south of France, Italy, and Germany, ladies or gentlemen will frankly say, "I am going to the Casino for a little gambling, but will be back again by and by."
The roads in the vicinity of Bridgetown are admirably kept, all being macadamized, but the dust which rises from the pulverized coral rock is nearly blinding, and together with the reflection caused by the sun on the snow white roads proves very trying to the eyesight. The dust and glare are serious drawbacks to the enjoyment of these environs.
As we have said, hurricanes have proved very fatal at Barbadoes. In 1780, four thousand persons were swept out of existence in a few hours by the irresistible fury of a tornado. So late as 1831, the loss of life by a similar visitation was over two thousand, while the loss of property aggregated some two million pounds sterling. The experience has not, however, been so severe here as at several of the other islands. At the time of the hurricane just referred to, Barbadoes was covered with a coat of sulphurous ashes nearly an inch thick, which was afterwards found to have come from the island of St. Vincent, where what is called Brimstone Mountain burst forth in flames and laid that island also in ashes. It is interesting to note that there should have been such intimate relationship shown between a great atmospheric disturbance like a hurricane and an underground agitation as evinced by the eruption of a volcano.
It should be mentioned that these hurricanes have never been known to pass a certain limit north or south, their ravages having always been confined between the eleventh and twenty-first degrees of north latitude.
It appears that some curious Carib implements were found not long since just below the surface of the earth on the south shore of the bay, which are to be forwarded to the British Museum, London. These were of hard stone, and were thought by the finders to have been used by the aborigines to fell trees. Some were thick shells, doubtless employed by the Indians in the rude cultivation of maize, grown here four or five hundred years ago. It was said that these stone implements resembled those which have been found from time to time in Norway and Sweden. If this is correct, it is an important fact for antiquarians to base a theory upon. Some scientists believe that there was, in prehistoric times, an intimate relationship between Scandinavia and the continent of America.
Though there are several public schools in Bridgetown, both primary and advanced, we were somehow impressed with the idea that education for the common people was not fostered in a manner worthy of a British colony of so long standing; but this is the impression of a casual observer only. There is a college situated ten or twelve miles from the city, founded by Sir Christopher Codrington, which has achieved a high reputation as an educational institution in its chosen field of operation. It is a large structure of white stone, well-arranged, and is, as we were told, consistent with the spirit of the times. It has the dignity of ripened experience, having been opened in 1744. The professors are from Europe. A delicious fresh water spring rises to the surface of the land just below the cliff, at Codrington College, a blessing which people who live in the tropics know how to appreciate. There is also at Bridgetown what is known as Harrison's College, which, however, is simply a high school devoted exclusively to girls.
The island is not exempt from occasional prevalence of tropical fevers, but may be considered a healthy resort upon the whole. Leprosy is not unknown among the lower classes, and elephantiasis is frequently to be met with. This disease is known in the West Indies as the "Barbadoes Leg." Sometimes a native may be seen on the streets with one of his legs swollen to the size of his body. There is no known cure for this disease except the surgeon's knife, and the removal of the victim from the region where it first developed itself. The author has seen terrible cases of elephantiasis among the natives of the Samoan group of islands, where this strange and unaccountable disease is thought to have reached its most extreme and repulsive development. Foreigners are seldom if ever afflicted with it, either in the West Indies or the South Pacific.
We are to sail to-night. A few passengers and a quantity of freight have been landed, while some heavy merchandise has been received on board, designed for continental ports to the southward. The afternoon shadows lengthen upon the shore, and the sunset hour, so brief in this latitude, approaches. The traveler who has learned to love the lingering twilight of the north misses these most charming hours when in equatorial regions, but as the goddess of night wraps her sombre mantle about her, it is so superbly decked with diamond stars that the departed daylight is hardly regretted. It is like the prompter's ringing up of the curtain upon a complete theatrical scene; the glory of the tropical sky bursts at once upon the vision in all its completeness, its burning constellations, its solitaire brilliants, its depth of azure, and its mysterious Milky Way.
While sitting under the awning upon deck, watching the gentle swaying palms and tall fern-trees, listening to the low drone of busy life in the town, and breathing the sweet exhalations of tropical fruits and flowers, a trance-like sensation suffuses the brain. Is this thedolce far nienteof the Italians, the sweet do-nothing of the tropics? To us, however defined, it was a waking dream of sensuous delight, of entire content. How far away sounds the noise of the steam-winch, the sharp chafing of the iron pulleys, the prompt orders of the officer of the deck, the swinging of the ponderous yards, the rattling of the anchor chain as it comes in through the hawse hole, while the ship gradually loses her hold upon the land. With half closed eyes we scarcely heard these many significant sounds, but floated peacefully on in an Eden of fancy, quietly leaving Carlisle Bay far behind.
Our course was to the southward, while everything, high and low, was bathed in a flood of shimmering moonlight, the magic alchemy of the sky, whose influence etherealizes all upon which it rests.
Curious Ocean Experiences.—The Delicate Nautilus.—Flying-Fish.—The Southern Cross.—Speaking a Ship at Sea.—Scientific Navigation.—South America as a Whole.—Fauna and Flora.—Natural Resources of a Wonderful Land.—Rivers, Plains, and Mountain Ranges.—Aboriginal Tribes.—Population.—Political Divisions.—Civil Wars.—Weakness of South American States.
The sudden appearance of a school of flying-fish gliding swiftly through the air for six or eight rods just above the rippling waves, and then sinking from sight; the sportive escort of half a hundred slate-colored porpoises, leaping high out of the water on either bow of the ship only to plunge back again, describing graceful curves; the constant presence of that sullen tiger of the ocean, the voracious, man-eating shark, betrayed by its dorsal fin showing above the surface of the sea; the sporting of mammoth whales, sending columns of water high in air from their blowholes, and lashing the waves playfully with their broad-spread tails, are events at sea too commonplace to comment upon in detail, though they tend to while away the inevitable monotony of a long voyage.
Speaking of flying-fish, there is more in the flying capacity of this little creature than is generally admitted, else why has it wings on the forward part of its body, each measuring seven inches in length? If designed only for fins, they are altogether out of proportion to the rest of its body. They are manifestly intended for just the use to which the creature puts them. One was brought to us by a seaman; how it got on board we know not, but it measured eleven inches from the nose to the tip of the tail fin, and was in shape and size very much like a small mackerel. After leaving Barbadoes, we got into what sailors call the flying-fish latitudes, where they appear constantly in their low, rapid flight, sometimes singly, but oftener in small schools of a score or more, creating flashes of silvery-blue lustre. The most careful observation could detect no vibration of the long, extended fins; the tiny fish sailed, as it were, upon the wind, the flight of the giant albatross in miniature.
One afternoon, when the sea was scarcely dimpled by the soft trade wind, we came suddenly upon myriads of that little fairy of the ocean, the gossamer nautilus, with its Greek galleon shape, and as frail, apparently, as a spider's web. What a gondola it would make for Queen Mab! How delicate and transparent it is, while radiating prismatic colors! A touch might dismember it, yet what a daring navigator, floating confidently upon the sea where the depth is a thousand fathoms, liable at any moment to be changed into raging billows by an angry storm! How minute the vitality of this graceful atom, a creature whose existence is perhaps for only a single day; yet how grand and limitless the system of life and creation of which it is so humble a representative! Sailors call these frail marine creatures Portuguese men-of-war. Possessing some singular facility for doing so, if they are disturbed, they quickly furl their sails and sink below the surface of the buoyant waves into deep water, the home of the octopus, the squid, and the voracious shark. Did they, one is led to query, navigate these seas after this fashion before the Northmen came across the ocean, and before Columbus landed at San Salvador? At night the glory of the southern hemisphere, as revealed in new constellations and brighter stars brought into view, was observed with keenest interest,—"Everlasting Night, with her star diadems, with her silence, and her verities." The phosphorescence of the sea, with its scintillations of brilliant light, its ripples of liquid fire, the crest of each wave a flaming cascade, was a charming phenomenon one never tired of watching. If it be the combination of millions and billions of animalculæ which thus illumines the waters, then these infinitesimal creatures are the fireflies of the ocean, as the cucuios, that fairy torch-bearer, is of the land. Gliding on the magic mirror of the South Atlantic, in which the combined glory of the sky was reflected with singular clearness, it seemed as though we were sailing over a starry world below.
While observing the moon in its beautiful series of changes, lighting our way by its chaste effulgence night after night, it was difficult to realize that it shines entirely by the light which it borrows from the sun; but it was easy to believe the simpler fact, that of all the countless hosts of the celestial bodies, she is our nearest neighbor. "An eighteen-foot telescope reveals to the human eye over forty million stars," said Captain Baker, as we stood together gazing at the luminous heavens. "And if we entertain the generally accepted idea," he continued, "we must believe that each one of that enormous aggregate of stars is the centre of a solar system similar to our own." The known facts relating to the stars, like stellar distances, are almost incomprehensible.
One cannot but realize that there is always a certain amount of sentiment wasted on the constellation known as the Southern Cross by passengers bound to the lands and seas over which it hangs. Orion or the Pleiades, either of them, is infinitely superior in point of brilliancy, symmetry, and individuality. A lively imagination is necessary to endow this irregular cluster of stars with any real resemblance to the Christian emblem for which it is named. It serves the navigator in the southern hemisphere, in part, the same purpose which the north star does in our portion of the globe, and there our own respect for it as a constellation ends. Much poetic talent has been expended for ages to idealize the Southern Cross, which is, alas! no cross at all. We have seen a person unfamiliar with the locality of this constellation strive long and patiently, but in vain, to find it. It should be remembered that two prominent stars in Centaurus point directly to it. The one furthest from the so called cross is held to be the fixed star nearest to the earth, but its distance from us is twenty thousand times farther than that of the sun.
We have never yet met a person, looking upon this cluster of the heavens for the first time, who did not frankly express his disappointment. Anticipation and fruition are oftenest at antipodes.
The graceful marine birds which follow the ship, day after day, darting hither and thither with arrowy swiftness, lured by the occasional refuse thrown from on board, would be seriously missed were they to leave us. Watching their aerial movements and untiring power of wing, while listening to their sharp complaining cries, is a source of constant amusement. Even rough weather and a raging sea, if not accompanied by too serious a storm, is sometimes welcome, serving to awaken the ship from its dull propriety, and to put officers, crew, and passengers upon their mettle. To speak a strange vessel at sea is always interesting. If it is a steamer, a long, black wake of smoke hanging among the clouds at the horizon betrays her proximity long before the hull is sighted. All eyes are on the watch until she comes clearly within the line of vision, gradually increasing in size and distinctness of outline, until presently the spars and rigging are minutely delineated. Then speculation is rife as to whence she comes and where she is going. By and by the two ships approach so near that signal flags can be read, and the captains talk with each other, exchanging names, whither bound, and so on. Then each commander dips his flag in compliment to the other, and the ships rapidly separate. All of this is commonplace enough, but serves to while away an hour, and insures a report of our progress and safety at the date of meeting, when the stranger reaches his port of destination.
We have spoken of the pleasure experienced at sea in watching intelligently the various phases of the moon. The subject is a prolific one; a whole chapter might be written upon it.
It is perhaps hardly realized by the average landsman, and indeed by few who constantly cross the ocean, with their thoughts and interests absorbed by the many attractive novelties of the ocean, how important a part this great luminary plays in the navigation of a ship. It is to the intelligent and observant mariner the never-failing watch of the sky, the stars performing the part of hands to designate the proper figure upon the dial. If there is occasion to doubt the correctness of his chronometer, the captain of the ship can verify its figures or correct them by this planet. Every minute that the chronometer is wrong, assuming that it be so, may put him fifteen miles out of his reckoning, which, under some circumstances, might prove to be a fatal error, even leading to the loss of his ship and all on board. To find his precise location upon the ocean, the navigator requires both Greenwich time and local meridian time, the latter obtained by the sun on shipboard, exactly at midday. To get Greenwich time by lunar observation, the captain, for example, finds that the moon is three degrees from the star Regulus. By referring to his nautical almanac he sees recorded there the Greenwich time at which the moon was three degrees from that particular star. He then compares his chronometer with these figures, and either confirms or corrects its indication. It is interesting to the traveler to observe and understand these important resources, which science has brought to bear in perfecting his safety on the ocean, promoting the interests of commerce, and in aid of correct navigation. The experienced captain of a ship now lays his course as surely by compass, after satisfying himself by these various means of his exact position, as though the point of his destination was straight before him all the while, and visible from the pilot house.
How indescribable is the grandeur of these serene nights on the ocean, fanned by the somnolent trade winds; a little lonely, perhaps, but so blessed with the hallowed benediction of the moonlight, so gorgeously decorated by the glittering images of the studded heavens, so sweet and pure and fragrant is the breath of the sleeping wind! If one listens intently, there seems to come to the senses a whispering of the waves, as though the sea in confidence would tell its secrets to a willing ear.
The ship heads almost due south after leaving Barbadoes, when her destination is, as in our case, Pará, twelve hundred miles away. On this course we encounter the equatorial current, which runs northward at a rate of two miles in an hour, and at some points reaches a much higher rate of speed.
As eternal vigilance is the price of liberty, so eternal scrubbing is the price of cleanliness on shipboard. The deck hands are at it from five o'clock in the morning until sunset. Our good ship looks as if she had just come out of dock. Last night's gale, which in its angry turmoil tossed us about so recklessly, covered her with a saline, sticky deposit; but with the rising of the sun all this disappears as if by magic. The many brass mountings shine with dazzling lustre, and the white paint contrasts with the well-tarred cordage which forms the standing rigging.
While the ship pursues her course through the far-reaching ocean, let us sketch in outline the general characteristics of South America, whither we are bound.
It is a country containing twice the area, though not quite one half the amount of population, of the United States, a land which, though now presenting nearly all phases of civilization, was four centuries ago mostly inhabited by nomadic tribes of savages, who knew nothing of the horse, the ox, or the sheep, which to-day form so great and important a source of its wealth, and where wheat, its prevailing staple, was also unknown. It is a land overflowing with native riches, which possesses an unlimited capacity of production, and whose large and increasing population requires just such domestic supplies as we of the north can profitably furnish. The important treaty of reciprocity, so lately arranged between the giant province of Brazil—or rather we should say the Republic of Brazil—and our own country, is already developing new and increasing channels of trade for our shippers and producers of the great staples, as well as throwing open to us a new nation of consumers for our special articles of manufacture. Facts speak louder than words. On the voyage in which the author sailed in the Vigilancia, she took over twenty thousand barrels of flour to Brazil from the United States, and would have taken more had her capacity admitted. Every foot of space on board was engaged for the return voyage, twelve thousand bags of coffee being shipped from Rio Janeiro alone, besides nearly as large a consignment of coffee from Santos, in the same republic. The great mutual benefit which must accrue from this friendly compact with an enterprising foreign country can hardly be overestimated. These considerations lead to a community of interests, which will grow by every reasonable means of familiarizing the people of the two countries with each other. Hence the possible and practical value of such a work as the one in hand.
By briefly consulting one of the many cheap and excellent maps of the western hemisphere, the patient reader will be enabled to follow the route taken by the author with increased interest and a clearer understanding.
It is surprising, in conversing with otherwise intelligent and well-informed people, to find how few there are, comparatively speaking, who have any fixed and clear idea relative to so large a portion of the habitable globe as South America. The average individual seems to know less of the gigantic river Amazon than he does of the mysterious Nile, and is less familiar with that grand, far-reaching water-way, the Plate, than he is with the sacred Ganges; yet one can ride from Buenos Ayres in the Argentine Republic, across the wild pampas, to the base of the Andes in a Pullman palace car. There is no part of the globe concerning which so little is written, and no other portion which is not more sought by travelers; in short, it is less known to the average North American than New Zealand or Australia.
The vast peninsula which we call South America is connected with our own part of the continent by the Isthmus of Panama and the territory designated as Central America. Its configuration is triangular, and exhibits in many respects a strong similarity to the continents of Africa and Australia, if the latter gigantic island may be called a continent. It extends north and south nearly five thousand miles, or from latitude 12° 30' north to Cape Horn in latitude 55° 59' south. Its greatest width from east to west is a little over three thousand miles, and its area, according to the best authorities, is nearly seven million square miles. Three fourths of this country lie in the torrid zone, though as a whole it has every variety of climate, from equatorial heat to the biting frosts of alpine peaks. Its widespread surface consists principally of three immense plains, watered respectively by the Amazon, Plate, and Orinoco rivers. This spacious country has a coast line of over sixteen thousand miles on the two great oceans, with comparatively few indentures, headlands, or bays, though at the extreme south it consists of a maze of countless small islands, capes, and promontories, of which Cape Horn forms the outermost point.
The Cordillera of the Andes extends through the whole length of this giant peninsula, from the Strait of Magellan to the Isthmus of Panama, a distance of forty-five hundred miles, forming one of the most remarkable physical features of the globe, and presenting the highest mountains on its surface, except those of the snowy Himalayas which separate India from Thibet. The principal range of the Andes runs nearly parallel with the Pacific coast, at an average distance of about one hundred miles from it, and contains several active volcanoes. If we were to believe a late school geography, published in London, Cotopaxi, one famous peak of this Andean range, throws up flames three thousand feet above the brink of its crater, which is eighteen thousand feet above tide water; but to be on the safe side, let us reduce these extraordinary figures at least one half, as regards the eruptive power of Cotopaxi. This mountain chain, near the border between Chili and Peru, divides into two branches, the principal one still called the Cordillera of the Andes, and the other, nearer to the ocean, the Cordillera de la Costa. Between these ranges, about three thousand feet above the sea, is a vast table-land with an area larger than that of France.
It will be observed that we are dealing with a country which, like our own, is one of magnificent distances. It is difficult for the nations of the old world, where the population is hived together in such circumscribed space, to realize the geographical extent of the American continent. When informed that it required six days and nights, at express speed upon well-equipped railroads, to cross the United States from ocean to ocean, a certain editor in London doubted the statement. Outside of Her Majesty's dominions, the average Englishman has only superficial ideas of geography. The frequent blunders of some British newspapers in these matters are simply ridiculous.
It should be understood that South America is a land of plains as well as of lofty mountains, having thellanosof the Orinoco region, theselvasof the Amazon, and thepampasof the Argentine Republic. The llanos are composed of a region about as large as the New England States, so level that the motion of the rivers can hardly be discerned. The selvas are for the most part vast unbroken forests, in which giant trees, thick undergrowth, and entwining creepers combine to form a nearly impenetrable region. The pampas lie between the Andes and the Atlantic Ocean, stretching southward from northern Brazil to southern Patagonia, affording grass sufficient to feed innumerable herds of wild cattle, but at the extreme south the country sinks into half overflowed marshes and lagoons, resembling the glades and savannahs of Florida.
The largest river in the world, namely, the Amazon, rises in the Peruvian Andes, within sixty miles of the Pacific Ocean, and flows thousands of miles in a general east-northeast direction, finally emptying into the Atlantic Ocean. This unequaled river course is navigable for over two thousand miles from its mouth, which is situated on the equatorial line, where its outflow is partially impeded by the island of Marajo, a nearly round formation, one hundred and fifty miles or thereabouts in diameter. This remarkable island divides the river's outlet into two passages, the largest of which is a hundred and fifty miles in width, forming an estuary of extraordinary dimensions. The Amazon has twelve tributaries, each one of which is a thousand miles in length, not to count its hundreds of smaller ones, while the main stream affords water communication from the Atlantic Ocean to near the foothills of the Andes.
We are simply stating a series of condensed geographical facts, from which the intelligent reader can form his own deductions as regards the undeveloped possibilities of this great southland.
Our own mammoth river, the Mississippi, is a comparatively shallow stream, with a shifting channel and dangerous sandbanks, which impede navigation throughout the most of its course; while the Amazon shows an average depth of over one hundred feet for the first thousand miles of its flow from the Atlantic, forming inland seas in many places, so spacious that the opposite banks are not within sight of each other. It is computed by good authority that this river, with its numerous affluents, forms a system of navigable water twenty-four thousand miles in length! There are comparatively few towns or settlements of any importance on the banks of the Amazon, which flows mostly through a dense, unpeopled evergreen forest, not absolutely without human beings, but for very long distances nearly so. Wild animals, anacondas and other reptiles, together with many varieties of birds and numerous tribes of monkeys, make up the animal life. Now and again a settlement of European colonists is found, or a rude Indian village is seen near the banks, but they are few and far between. There are occasional regions of low, marshy ground, which are malarious at certain seasons, but the average country is salubrious, and capable of supporting a population of millions.
This is only one of the large rivers of South America; there are many others of grand proportions. The Plate comes next to it in magnitude, having a length of two thousand miles, and being navigable for one half the distance from its mouth at all seasons. It is over sixty miles wide at Montevideo, and is therefore the widest known river. Like the great stream already described, it traverses a country remarkable for the fertility of its soil, but very thinly settled. The Plate carries to the ocean four fifths as much, in volume of water, as does the mighty Amazon, the watershed drained by it exceeding a million and a half square miles. One can only conceive of the true magnitude of such figures when applied to the land by comparing the number of square miles contained in any one European nation, or any dozen of our own States.
Juan Diaz de Solis discovered the estuary of the Plate in 1508, and believed it at that time to be a gulf, but on a second voyage from Europe, in 1516, he ascended the river a considerable distance, and called it Mar Dulce, on account of the character of the waters. Unfortunately, this intelligent discoverer was killed by Indian arrows on attempting to land at a certain point. For a considerable period the river was called after him, and we think should have continued to be so, but its name was changed to the Plate on account of the conspicuous silver ornaments worn in great profusion by the natives, which they freely exchanged for European gewgaws.
Though nearly four hundred years have passed since its discovery, a large portion of the country still remains comparatively unexplored, much of it being a wilderness sparsely inhabited by Indians, many of whom are without a vestige of civilization. We know as little of portions of the continent as we do of Central Africa, yet there is no section of the globe which suggests a greater degree of physical interest, or which would respond more readily and profitably to intelligent effort at development. When the Spaniards first came to South America, it was only in Peru, the land of the Incas, that they found natives who had made any substantial progress in civilization. The earliest history extant relating to this region of the globe is that of the Incas, a warlike race of sun-worshipers, who possessed enormous treasures of gold and silver, and who erected magnificent temples enriched with the precious metals. It was the almost fabulous wealth of the Incas that led to their destruction, tempting the cupidity of the avaricious Spaniards, and causing them to institute a system of cruelty, oppression, robbery, and bloodshed which finally obliterated an entire people from the face of the globe. The empire of the Incas extended from Quito, in Ecuador (on the equator), to the river Monté in Chili, and eastward to the Andes. The romantic career of Pizarro and Cortez is familiar to us all. There are few palliating circumstances connected with the advent of the Spaniards, either here, in the West Indies, or in Mexico. The actual motive which prompted their invasion of this foreign soil was to search for mineral treasures, though policy led them to cover their bloodthirsty deeds with a pretense of religious zeal. Their first acts were reckless, cruel, and sanguinary, followed by a systematic oppression of the native races which was an outrage upon humanity. The world at large profited little by the extortion and golden harvest reaped by Spain, to realize which she adopted a policy of extermination, both in Peru and in Mexico; but let it be remembered that her own national ruin was brought about with poetical justice by the very excess of her ill-gotten, blood-stained treasures. The Spanish historians tell us, as an evidence of the persistent bravery of their ancestors, that it took them eight hundred years of constant warfare to wrest Spain from her Moorish conquerors. It is for us to remind them how brief has been the continuance of their glory, how rapid their decline from splendid continental and colonial possessions to their present condition, that of the weakest and most insignificant power in Europe.
There are localities which have been visited by adventurous explorers, especially in Chili and Peru, where ruins have been found, and various monuments of antiquity examined, of vast interest to archæologists, but of which scarcely more than their mere existence is recorded. Some of these ruins are believed to antedate by centuries the period of the Incas, and are supposed to be the remains of tribes which, judging from their pottery and other domestic utensils, were possibly of Asiatic origin. Comparatively few travelers have visited Lake Titicaca, in the Peruvian Andes, with its sacred islands and mysterious ruins, from whence the Incas dated their mythical origin. The substantial remains of some grand temples are still to be seen on the islands near the borders of the lake, the decaying masonry decked here and there with a wild growth of hardy cactus. This remarkable body of water, Lake Titicaca, in the mountain range of Peru, lies more than twelve thousand feet above the level of the Pacific; yet it never freezes, and its average depth is given as six hundred feet, representing an immense body of water. It covers an area of four thousand square miles, which is about four fifths as large as our own Lake Ontario, the average depth being about the same. Titicaca is the largest lake in the world occupying so elevated a site.
The population of South America is mostly to be found on the coast, and is thought to be about thirty-five millions, though, all things considered, we are disposed to believe this an overestimate. There are tribes far inland who are not brought in contact with civilization at all, and whose numbers are not known. The magnitude and density of the forests are remarkable; they cover, it is intelligently stated, nearly two thirds of the country. The vegetation, in its various forms, is rich beyond comparison. Professor Agassiz, who explored the valley of the Amazon under the most favorable auspices, tells us that he found within an area of half a mile square over one hundred species of trees, among which were nearly all of the choicest cabinet and dye woods known to the tropics, besides others suitable for shipbuilding. Some of these trees are remarkable for their gigantic size, others for their beauty of form, and still others are valuable for their gums and resins. Of the latter, the india-rubber tree is the most prolific and important known to commerce. From Brazil comes four fifths of the world's supply of the raw material of rubber.
The great fertility of the soil generally would seem to militate against the true progress of the people of South America, absolutely discouraging, rather than stimulating national industry. One cannot but contrast the state of affairs in this respect with that of North America, where the soil is so much less productive, and where the climate is so universally rigorous. The deduction is inevitable that, to find man at his best, we must observe him where his skill, energy, and perseverance are all required to achieve a livelihood, and not where exuberant nature is over-indulgent, over-productive. The coast, the valleys, and indeed the main portion of South America are tropical, but a considerable section of the country is so elevated that its climate is that of perpetual spring, resembling the great Mexican plateau, both physically and as regards temperature. The population is largely of Spanish descent, and that language is almost universally spoken, though Portuguese is the current tongue in Brazil. These languages are so similar, in fact, that the people of the two nations can easily understand each other. It is said to be true that, in the wild regions of the country, there are tribes of Indians found to-day living close to each other, separated by no physical barriers, who differ materially in language, physiognomy, manners, and customs, having absolutely nothing in common but their brown or copper colored skins. Furthermore, these tribes live most frequently in deadly feuds with each other. That cannibalism is still practiced among these interior tribes is positively believed, especially among some of the tribes of the extreme south, that is, among the Patagonians and the wild, nomadic race of Terra del Fuego. These two tribes, on opposite sides of the Strait of Magellan, are quite different from each other in nearly every respect, especially in size, nor will they attempt to hold friendly intercourse of any sort with each other.
There are certain domestic animals which are believed to be improved by crossing them with others of a different type, but this does not seem to apply, very often, advantageously to different races of human beings. It is plain enough in South America that the amalgamation of foreigners and natives rapidly effaces the original better qualities of each, the result being a mongrel, nondescript type, hard to analyze and hard to improve. That keen observer, Professor Agassiz, especially noticed this during his year of scientific research in Brazil. This has also been the author's experience, as illustrated in many lands, where strictly different races, the one highly civilized, the other barbarian, have unitedly produced children. It is a sort of amalgamation which nature does not favor, recording her objections in an unmistakable manner. It is the flow of European emigration towards these southern republics which will infuse new life and progress among them. The aboriginal race is slowly receding, and fading out, as was the case in Australia, in New Zealand, and in the instance of our western Indians. A new people will eventually possess the land, composed of the several European nationalities, who are already the virtual masters of South America so far as regards numbers, intelligence, and possession.
Since these notes were written, the Argentine government has sold to Baron Hirsch three thousand square leagues of land in the province of Chaco, for the formation of a Jewish colony. Agents are already at work, aided by competent engineers and practical individuals, in preparing for the early reception of the new occupants of the country. The first contingent, of about one thousand Jews, have already arrived and are becoming domesticated. Argentina wants men perhaps more than money; indeed, one will make the other. A part of Baron Hirsch's scheme is to lend these people money, to be repaid in small installments extending over a considerable period. For this extensive territory the Baron paid one million three hundred thousand dollars in gold, thus making himself the owner of the largest connected area of land in the world possessed by a single individual. It exceeds that of the kingdom of Montenegro.
As to the zoölogy of this part of the continent, it is different from that of Europe, Africa, Asia, and North America. The number of dangerous beasts of prey is quite limited. There is nothing here to answer to the African lion, the Asiatic tiger, the elephant of Ceylon, or the grisly bear of Alaska. The jaguar is perhaps the most formidable animal, and resembles the leopard. There are also the cougar, tiger-cat, black bear, hyena, wolf, and ocelot. The llama, alpaca, and vicuña are peculiar to this country. The monkey tribe exceeds all others in variety and number. There are said to be nearly two hundred species of them in South America, each distinctly marked, and varying from each other, in size, from twelve pounds to less than two. The smallest of the little marmosets weigh less than a pound and a half each, and are the most intelligent animal of their size known to man. There are also the deer, tapir, armadillo, anteater, and a few other minor animals. The pampas swarm with wild cattle and horses, descended from animals originally brought from Europe. In the low, marshy grounds the boa-constrictor and other reptiles abound. Eagles, vultures, and parrots are found in a wild state all over the country, while the rivers and the waters near the coast are well filled with fish, crocodiles, and turtles. Scientists have found over two thousand species of fish in the Amazon River alone.
The pure aboriginal race are copper colored, resembling the Mexicans in character and appearance. Like most natives of equatorial regions, they are indolent, ignorant, superstitious, sensuous, and by no means warlike. Forced into the ranks and drilled by Europeans, they make fairly good soldiers, and when well led will obey orders and fight. There can be noesprit de corpsin soldiers thus organized; the men neither know nor care what they fight for, their incentive in action being first a natural instinct for brutality, and second the promise of booty. In some parts of the country the half-breeds show themselves skillful workmen in certain simple lines of manufacture, but the native pure and simple will not work except to keep from starving.
The Spaniards conquered nearly all parts of South America except Brazil, which was subject to Portugal until 1823, when it achieved its independence. The Spanish colonies also revolted, one by one, until they all became independent of the mother country. The history of these republics, as in the instance of Mexico, has been both stormy and sanguinary. Foreign and civil wars have reigned among them incessantly for half a century and more.
The present political divisions are: Brazil, British Guiana, Dutch Guiana, French Guiana, Ecuador, United States of Colombia, Venezuela, Bolivia, Chili, Peru, Argentine Republic, Uruguay, and Paraguay. Brazil is the most extensive of these states, and is thought to enjoy the largest share of natural advantages, including in its area nearly one half as many square miles as all the rest combined. Its seaboard at Parahiba, and for hundreds of miles north and south of it, projects into the Atlantic a thousand miles to the east of the direct line between its northern and southern extremities. Besides her diamond and gold mines, she possesses what is much more desirable, namely, valuable deposits of iron, copper, silver, and other metals. We have before us statistics which give the result of diamond mining in Brazil from 1740 to 1823, when national independence was won, which show the aggregate for that entire period to have been less than ten million dollars in value; while that of the coffee alone, exported from Rio Janeiro in one year, exceeded twenty million dollars, showing that, however dazzling the precious stones may appear in the abstract, they are not even of secondary consideration when compared with the agricultural products of the country. The export of coffee has increased very much since the year 1851, which happens to be that from which we have quoted. It must also be admitted that probably twice the amount of diamonds recorded were actually found and enriched somebody, all which were duly reported, having to pay a government royalty according to the pecuniary exigency of those in authority.
The population of Brazil is between fourteen and fifteen million, and it is thought to be more advanced in civilization than other parts of South America, though in the light of our own experience we should place the Argentine Republic first in this respect. Indeed, so far as a transient observer may speak, we are inclined to place Argentina far and away in advance of Brazil as regards everything calculated to invite the would-be emigrant who is in search of a new home in a foreign land. Were it not that intestine wars are of such frequent occurrence among these states, and national bankruptcy so common, voluntary emigration would tend towards South America in far larger numbers than it does now. The revolutions are solely to promote personal aggrandizement; it is individual interest, not principle, for which these people fight so often. Unfortunately, every fresh outbreak throws the country back a full decade as regards national progress. The late civil wars in Chili and the Argentine Republic are illustrations in point. The first-named section of South America has suddenly sunk from a condition of remarkable pecuniary prosperity to one of actual poverty. Thousands of valuable lives have been sacrificed, an immense amount of property has been destroyed, her commerce crippled, and for the time being paralyzed. Ten years of peace and reasonable prosperity could hardly restore Chili to the position she was in twelve months ago. The country is to-day in a terrible condition, while many of the best families mourn the death of a father, a son, or both, whose lives have been sacrificed to the mad ambition of a usurper. Numerous families, once rich, have now become impoverished by the confiscation of their entire property. The Chilians do not carry on warfare in European style, by organized armies; there is a semblance only of such bodies. The fighting is mostly after the fashion of free lances, guerrilla bands, and highwaymen. There seems to be no sense of honor or chivalry among the common people, while the only idea of the soldiery is to plunder and destroy.
The Peruvians whose cities were despoiled by Chili must have regarded the recent cutting of each other's throats by the Chilian soldiery with something like grim satisfaction.
The obvious weakness of the South American states lies in their bitter rivalry towards each other, a condition which might be at once obviated by their joining together to form one united nation. The instability which characterizes their several governments in their present isolated interests has passed into a byword. Divided into nine unimportant states,—leaving out the three Guianas, which are dependent upon European powers,—any one of them could be erased from the map and absorbed by its stronger neighbor, or by a covetous foreign power. On the contrary, by forming one grand republic, it would stand eighth in the rank of nations as regards wealth, importance, and power, amply able to take care of itself, and to maintain the integrity of its territory. A community of interest would also be established between our government and that of these South American provinces, which would be of immense commercial and political importance to both nations.
To those who have visited the country, and who have carefully observed the conditions, it is clear that this division of the continent will never thrive and fully reap the benefit of its great natural advantages until the independent republics assume the position of sovereign states, subservient to a central power, a purpose which has already been so successfully accomplished in Mexico.
While we have been considering the great southern continent as a whole, our good ship, having crossed the equator, has been rapidly approaching its northern shore. After entering the broad mouth of the Amazon and ascending its course for many miles, we are now in sight of the thriving metropolis of Pará.