Chapter Five.Mundrucus, or Beheaders.In our general sketch of the Amazonian Indians it was stated that there were some few tribes who differed in certain customs from all the rest, and who might even be regarded asodd among the odd. One of these tribes is theMundrucu, which, from its numbers and warlike strength, almost deserves to be styled a nation. It is, at all events, a powerful confederacy, of different tribes, linked together in one common nationality, and including in their league other Indians which the Mundrucus themselves first conquered, and afterwards associated with themselves on terms of equality; in other words, “annexed” them. The same sort of annexation or alliance is common among the tribes of North America; as in the case of the powerful Comanche nation, who extend their protecting alliance over the Wacoes, Washites, and Cayguäas or Kioways.TheMahüeis the principal tribe that is patronised in this fashion by the Mundrucus, and the two together number at least 20,000 souls.Before the days of the Portuguese slave-hunting, the Mundrucus occupied the south bank of the Amazon, from the mouth of the Tapajos to that of the Madeira. This infamous traffic had the effect of clearing the banks of the great river of its native inhabitants,—except such of them as chose to submit to slavery, or becomeneophytes, by adopting the monkish faith. Neither of these courses appeared pleasing in the eyes of the Mundrucus, and they adopted the only alternative that was likely to insure their independence,—by withdrawing from the dangerous proximity of the sanguinary slave-trade.This retreat of the Mundrucus, however, was by no means an ignominious flight. The withdrawal was voluntary on their part, and not compulsory, as was the case with weaker tribes. From the earliest times they had presented a firm front to the Portuguese encroachments, and the latter were even forced into a sort of nefarious alliance with them. The leaving the Amazon on the part of the Mundrucus was rather the result of a negotiation, by which they conceded their territory—between the mouths of the Tapajos and Madeira—to the Brazilian government; and to this hour they are not exactly unfriendly to Brazilianwhites, though to the mulattoes and negroes, who constitute a large proportion of the Brazilian population, the Mundrucu knows no other feeling than that of a deadly hostility. The origin of their hatred of the Brazilian blacks is to be found in a revolt which occurred in the provinces of the Lower Amazon (at Para) in 1835. It was acasterevolution against whites, but more especially againstEuropeanPortuguese. In this affair the Mundrucus were employed against the darker-skinned rebels—theGabanos, as they were called—and did great service in putting down the rebellion. Hence they retain a lingering spark of friendship for theirci-devantwhite allies; or perhaps it would be more correct to say they do not actually hate them, but carry on a little commerce with their traders. For all that, they occasionally cut the throats of a few of the latter,—especially those who do not come to deal directly with them, but who pass through their country in going from the Amazon to the diamond mines of Brazil. These last are calledMonçaos, and their business is to carry supplies from the towns on the Amazon (Santarem and Para) to the miners of gold and washers of diamonds in the district of Matto Grosso, of which Cuiaba is the capital. Their route is by water and “portage” up the Tapajos river, and through the territory of the dreaded Mundrucus,—requiring a journey of six months, as perilous and toilsome as it is tedious.The present residence of the Mundrucus is between the Tapajos and Madeira, as formerly, but far up on both rivers. On the Tapajos, above what are known as the “Caxoeiras,” or Cataracts, their villages are found. There they dwell, free from all molestation on the part of the whites; their borders extending widely around them, and limited only by contact with those of other warlike tribes like themselves, who are their deadly enemies. Among these last are theMuras, who dwell at the mouths of the Madeira and Rio Negro.The Mundrucus build themalocca, elsewhere described; only in their case it is not used as a dwelling, but rather as a grand arsenal, a council-chamber, a ballroom, and, if need be, a fortress. When fearing an attack, all sleep in it “under arms.” It is a structure of large size and great strength, usually rendered more unassailable by being “chinked” and plastered with clay. It is in this building that are deposited those horrid trophies which have given to the Mundrucus their terrible title ofdecapitadores, or “beheaders.” The title and its origin shall be presently explained.Around the great malocca the huts are placed, forming a village, and in these the people ordinarily dwell.The Mundrucus are not without ample means of subsistence. Like most other Amazonian tribes, they cultivate a little manioc, plantains, and even maize; and they know how to prepare thefarinhameal, and, unfortunately, also the detestablechicha, the universal beverage of the South-American aborigines. They have their vessels of calabash—both of the vegetable and arborescent kinds—and a full set of implements and utensils for the field and kitchen. Their war weapons are those common to other Amazonian tribes, and they sometimes also carry the spear. They have canoes of hollow trees; and, of course, fishing and hunting are the employments of the men,—the women, as almost everywhere else among Indians, doing the drudgery,—the tilling and reaping, the “hewing of wood and the drawing of water,” the making the household utensils and using them,—all such offices being beneath the dignity of the “lordly,” or ratherlazysavage.I have said that they carry on a commercial intercourse with the white traders. It is not of much magnitude, and their exports consist altogether of the native and spontaneous productions of the soil, sarsaparilla being one of the chief articles. They gather this (the women and children do) during six months of the year. The other six months no industry is followed,—as this period is spent in hostile excursions against the neighbouring tribes. Their imports consist of iron tools and pieces for weapons; but they more especially barter the product of their labour for ornamental gewgaws,—such as savages universally admire and desire. Their sarsaparilla is good, and much sought for in the medical market.Every one is acquainted with the nature and character of this valuable medicinal root, the appearance of which must also be known to almost everybody,—since it is so very common for our druggists to display the bundles of it in their shop windows. Perhaps every one is not acquainted with the fact, that the sarsaparilla root is the product of a great many different species of plants most of them of the genusSimlax, but not a few belonging to plants of other genera, as those ofCarexandHerreriathe roots of which are also sold as sarsaparilla. The species of simlax are widely distributed throughout the whole torrid zone, in Asia, Africa, and America, and some kinds are found growing many degrees outside the tropics,—as is the case in Virginia and the valley of the Mississippi, and also on the other side of the Pacific on the great continent-island of Australia.The best sarsaparilla, however, is that which is produced in tropical countries, and especially in moist situations, where the atmosphere is at once hot and humid. It requires these conditions to concentrate the virtue of its sap, and render it more active.It would be idle to give a list of the different species of simlax that furnish the sarsaparilla root of the pharmacopeia. There is an almost endless number of them, and they are equally varied in respect to excellence of quality; some kinds are in reality almost worthless, and for this reason, in using it as a medicine, great care should be taken in the selection of the species. Like all other articles, either of food or medicine, the valuable kinds are the scarcest; the reason in this case being that the best sarsaparilla is found in situations not only difficult of access, but where the gathering of its root is attended with considerable danger, from the unhealthy nature of the climate and the hostility of the savages in whose territory it grows. As to the quantity that may be obtained, there is no limit, on the score of any scarcity of the plant itself, since it is found throughout all the countries of tropical America plenteously distributed both in species and individual plants. Such quantities of it grow along the banks of some South-American rivers, that the Indians have a belief that those streams known asblack waters—such as the Rio Negro and others—derive their peculiar colour from the roots of this plant. This, however, is an erroneous supposition, as there are many of thewhite-waterrivers that run through regions abundantly supplied with the sarsaparilla root. The black water, therefore, must arise from some other cause, as yet unknown.As observed, the sarsaparilla of the Mundrucu country is of the very best quality. It is theSimlax papyraceaof Soiret, and is known in commerce as the “Lisbon,” or “Brazilian.” It is a climbing plant, or under-shrub, the stem of which is flattened and angular, with rows of prickles standing along the prominent edges. Its leaves are of an oval acuminated shape, and marked withlongitudinalnerves. It shoots without any support, to a height of fifteen or twenty feet, after which it embraces the surrounding branches of trees and spreads to a great distance in every direction. The main root sends out many long tendrils, all of like thickness, covered with a brownish bark, or sometimes of a dark-grey colour. These tendrils are fibrous, and about as thick as a quill. They present a constant tendency to become crooked, and they are also wrinkled longitudinally, with here and there some smaller lateral fibres branching off from the sides.It is in the bark or epidermis of the rhizomes that the medicinal virtue lies; but the tendrils—both rhizome and bark—are collected together, and no attempt is made to separate them, until they have reached their commercial destination. Indeed, even these are sold together, the mode of preparing the root being left to the choice of the consumer, or the apothecary who procures it.The Mundrucus collect it during the six months of the rainy season, partly because during the remaining six they are otherwise employed, and partly for the reason that, in the time of rain, the roots are more easily extracted from the damp soil. The process simply consists in digging them up or dragging them out of the earth—the latter mode especially where the tendrils lie near the surface, and they will pull up without breaking. If the main root be not dug out, it will send forth new tendrils, which in a short time would yield a new crop; but the improvident savages make no prudential calculations of this kind—present convenience forming their sole consideration; and on this account both the root and plant are generally destroyed by them during the operation of collecting.As already stated, this labour devolves upon the women, who are also assisted in it by their children. They proceed into the depths of the forest—where the simlax grows in greatest abundance—and after collecting as much root as they can carry home with them, they return with their bundles to the malocca When fresh gathered the sarsaparilla is heavy enough—partly on account of the sap which it then contains, and partly from the quantity of the mud or earth that adheres to the corrugated surface of the roots.It is extremely probable that in this fresh state the virtue of the sarsaparilla, as a blood-purifier, is much greater than after it has passed through the channels of commerce; and the writer of this sketch has some reason, derived from personal experience, to believe that such is the case. Certain it is, that the reputation of this invaluable drug is far less in countries where the plant does not grow, than in those where it is common and can be obtained in its fresh state. In all parts of Spanish America its virtues are unquestioned, and experience has led to a more extensive use of it there than elsewhere. It is probable, therefore, that the virtue exists in the juice rather than the cortical integument of the rhizome; and this of course would be materially altered and deteriorated, if not altogether destroyed, in the process of exsiccation, which must necessarily take place in the time required for transporting it to distant parts of the world. In the European pharmacopeia it is the epidermis of the root which is supposed to contain the sanitary principle; and this, which is of a mucilaginous nature and slightly bitter taste, is employed, both in decoctions and infusions, as a tonic and alterative. In America, however, it is generally taken for what is termedpurifying the blood—for the same purpose as the rhizomes of theLauras sassafrasand other plants are used; but the sarsaparilla is generally considered the best, and it certainlyisthe best of all known medicines for this purpose. Why it has fallen in the estimation of the Old World practitioners, or why it never obtained so great a reputation as it has in America, may arise from two circumstances. First, that the root offered for sale is generally the product of the less valuable species; and second, that the sap, and not the rhizome, may be the part that contains the virtuous principle.When the collected roots have been kept for awhile they become dry and light, and for the convenience of stowage and carriage—an important consideration to the trader in his eight-tongarratea—it is necessary to have the roots done up in packages of a uniform length and thickness. These packages are formed by laying the roots side by side, and doubling in the ends of the longer ones. A bundle of the proper size for stowage contains anarrobaof twenty-five pounds, though the weight varies according to the condition of the root. Uniformity in size is the chief object aimed at, and the bundles are made of a round or cylindrical shape, about five inches in diameter, and something more than a yard in length. They are trimmed off small at the ends—so as to admit of stowage without leaving any empty space between two tiers of them—and each bundle is tightly corded round from one end to the other with a “sipo,” or creeping plant.It has been stated that this “sipo” is a root of the sarsaparilla itself, with the bark scraped off; and, indeed, its own root would serve well enough—were it not that putting it to such a use would destroy its medicinal value, and thus cause a considerable waste of the costly material. The sarsaparilla is not to be had for nothing even upon the banks of the Tapajos. A bundle of the best quality does not leave the hands of the Mundrucu until about four dollars’ worth of exchange commodities have been put into them, which would bring the price of it to something over sixpence a pound. He is, therefore, a little particular about wasting a material that has cost him—or rather his wife and children—so much trouble in collecting. His cordage is obtained more cheaply, and consists of the long, flexible roots of a species ofpothos, which roots—being what are termedaerialand not buried in the ground—require no labour or digging to get at them. It is only necessary to stretch up the hand, and pull them down from the tops of lofty trees, from which they hang like streamers, often to the length of a hundred feet. These are toughened by the bark being scraped off; and when that is done they are ready for use, and serve not only to tie up the bundles of sarsaparilla, but for many other purposes in the domestic economy of the Mundrucus.In addition to the sarsaparilla, the Mundrucu furnishes the trader with several other items of commercial value—for his climate, although one of the most unhealthy in all the Amazon region, on account of its great heat and humidity, is for that very reason one of the most fertile. Nearly all those tropical vegetable products which are characteristics of Brazilian export commerce can here be produced of the most luxuriant kind; but it is only those that grow spontaneously at his very doors that tempt the Mundrucu to take the trouble of collecting them.There is one article however, which he not only takes some trouble to collect, but also to manufacture into an item of commercial exchange—a very rare item indeed. This is theguarana, which is manufactured from the fruit of a tree almost peculiar to the Mundrucu territory—since nowhere is it found so abundantly as on the Tapajos. It is so prized in the Brazilian settlements as to command almost its weight in silver when transported thither. It is the constituent element of a drink, which has a stimulating effect on the system, somewhat more powerful than tea or coffee. It will prevent sleep; but its most valuable property is, that it is a good febrifuge, equal to the best quinine.Guaranais prepared from the seeds of an inga—one of theMimosacae. It is a low, wide-spreading tree like most of the mimosa family. The legumes are gathered, and the seeds roasted in them. The latter are then taken out, and after being ground to powder, are mixed with water so as to make a tough paste, which is moulded into little bricks, and when dried is ready for use. The beverage is then prepared by scraping a table-spoonful of dust from the brick, and mixing it with about a pint of water; and the dry paste, keeping for any length of time, is ready whenever wanted.Theguaranabush grows elsewhere in the Amazon valley, and on some headwaters of the Orinoco, where certain tribes also know how to prepare the drink. But it is sparingly distributed, and is nowhere so common as on the upper Tapajos hence its high price in the markets of Brazil. The Mundrucu manufactures it, not only for “home use,” but for “exportation.”He prepares another singular article of luxury, and this he makes exclusively for his own use,—not for the gratification of his lips or palate, but for his nose,—in other words, a snuff. Do not fancy, however, that it is snuff of the ordinary kind—the pulverised produce of innocent tobacco. No such thing; but a composition of such a powerful and stimulating character, that he who inhales it feels as if struck by an electric shock; his body trembles; his eyes start forward as if they would forsake their sockets; his limbs fail to support him; and he drops to the earth like one in a state of intoxication! For a short time he is literally mad; but the fit is soon over,—lasting usually only a few minutes,—and then a feeling of renewed strength, courage, and joyousness succeeds. Such are the consequences of taking snuff with a Mundrucu.And now to describe the nature of the substance which produces these powerful effects.Like theguaranathis snuff is a preparation, having for its basis the seeds of a leguminous tree. This time, however, it is anacacia, not aninga. It is theacacia niopo; so called because “niopo” is the name given to the snuff itself by certain tribes (the Ottomacs and others), who, like the Mundrucus, are snuff-takers. It is also calledcurupa, and the apparatus for preparing and taking it—for there is an apparatus of an extensive kind—is termedparica, in the general language (lingoa geral) of the Amazonian regions.We shall describe the preparation, the apparatus, and the ceremonial.The pods of theAcacia niopo—a small tree, with very delicate pinnate leaves—are plucked when ripe. They are then cut into small pieces and flung into a vessel of water. In this they remain until macerated, and until the seeds have turned black. These are then picked out, pounded in a mortar, which is usually the pericarp of thesapuçaia, or “monkey-pot” tree (Lecythys ollaria). The pounding reduces them to a paste, which is taken up, clapped between the hands and formed into little cakes—but not until it has been mixed with some manioc flour, some lime from a burnt shell (ahelix), and a little juice from the fresh leaves of the “abuta”—a menispermous plant of the genusCocculus. The cakes are then dried or “barbecued” upon a primitive gridiron—the bars of which are saplings of hard wood—and when well-hardened the snuff is ready for the “box.” In a box it is actually carried—usually one made out of some rare and beautiful shell.The ceremonial of taking the snuff is the most singular part of the performance. When a Mundrucu feels inclined for a “pinch”—though it is something more than apinchthat he inhales when hedoesfeel inclined—he takes the cake out of the box, scrapes off about a spoonful of it into a shallow, saucer-shaped vessel of the calabash kind, and then spreads the powder all over the bottom of the vessel in a regular “stratification.” The spreading is not performed by the fingers, but with a tiny, pencil-like brush made out of the bristles of the great ant-eater (Myrmecophaga jubata).He is in no hurry, but takes his time,—for as you may guess from its effects, the performance is not one so often repeated as that of ordinary snuff-taking. When theniopodust is laid to his liking, another implement is brought into play, the construction of which it is also necessary to describe. It is a “machine” of six to eight inches in length, and is made of two quills from the wing of thegaviao real, or “harpy eagle” (Harpyia destructor). These quills are placed side by side for the greater part of their length, forming two parallel tubes, and they are thus neatly whipped together by a thread. At one end they are pressed apart so as to diverge to a width corresponding to the breadth between the Mundrucu’s nostrils,—where it is intended they shall be placed during the ceremony of snuff-taking.And thus are they placed,—one end of each quill being slightly intruded within the line of the septum, while the other end rests upon the snuff, or wanders over the surface of the saucer, till all the powder placed there is drawn up and inhaled, producing the convulsive effects already detailed.The shank-bone of a species of bird—thought to be a plover—is sometimes used instead of the quills. It is hollow, and has a forking-tube at the end. This kind is not common or easily obtained, for the niopo-taker who has one, esteems it as the most valuable item of his apparatus.Snuffing the niopo is not exclusively confined to the Mundrucu. We have seen elsewhere that it is also a habit of the dirt-eating Ottomacs; and other tribes on the upper Amazon practise it. But the Mahües, already mentioned as the allies of the Mundrucus, are the most confirmed snuff-takers of all.Another odd custom of the Mundrucus is their habit of “tatooing.” I speak of real tatooing,—that is, marking the skin with dots and lines that cannot be effaced, in contradistinction to merepainting, or staining, which can easily be washed off. The Mundrucus paint also, with theanotto,kuitoc,caruta, and other pigments, but in this they only follow the practice of hundreds of other tribes. The truetatoois a far different affair, and scarcely known among the aborigines of America, though common enough in the islands of the South Sea. A few other Indian tribes practise it to a limited extent,—as is elsewhere stated,—but among the Mundrucus it is an “institution;” and painful though the process be, it has to be endured by every one in the nation, “every mother’s son,” and daughter as well, that are cursed with a Mundrucu for their father.It is upon the young people the infliction is performed,—when they are about eight or ten years of age.Thetatoohas been so often described, that I should not repeat it here; but there are a few “points” peculiar to Mundrucu tatooing, and a few others, not elsewhere understood.The performance is usually the work of certain old crones, who, from long practice, have acquired great skill in the art.The chief instrument used is a comb of thorns,—not a single thorn, as is generally stated,—but a tier or row of them set comb-fashion. These thorns are the spines of the “murumuru,” or “pupunha” palm (Gullielmia speciosa). Humboldt states that this palm is smooth and spineless, but in this the great, good man was in error. Its trunk is so covered with thorns or spines, that when the Indians require to climb it—for the purpose of procuring the valuable fruits, which they eat variously prepared—they have to erect a staging, or rude sort of ladder, to be able to get at them.The comb, then, is pressed down upon the skin of the “tatooee,” till all the points have penetrated the flesh, and a row of holes is laid open, from which the blood flows profusely. As soon as this can be wiped off, ashes of a burnt gum or pitch are rubbed into the wounds, which, when healed, appear like so many dots of a deep bluish or black colour. In this way the young Mundrucus, both boys and girls, get those regular rows of dotted lines, which traverse their forehead and cheeks, their arms and limbs, breasts, and bodies in such eccentric fashion. It has often been asked how these lines of dots were carried over the skin in such straight and symmetrical rows, forming regular parallel lines, or other geometrical patterns. The “comb” will explain the mystery.The tatoo, with a few strings of shell-beads or necklaces, and bracelets of monkey and jaguar teeth, is all the dress which is permitted to the Mundrucu belle. In Mundrucu-land it is the reverse of what is practised among civilised people: the men are the exponents of the fashions, and keep exclusively to themselves the cosmetics and bijouterie. Not contented with being tatooed, these alsopainttheir bodies, by way of “overcoat,” and also adorn themselves with the bright feathers of birds. They wear on their heads the beautiful circlet of macaw-plumes, and on grand occasions appear in the magnificent “feather dress,” so long celebrated as the peculiar costume of the tropical-forest Indian. These dresses their women weave and border, at a sacrifice of much tedious labour. They also ornament their arms and legs with rows of feathers around them, the tips turned upward and backward.The tatooing is confined to the Mundrucus proper,—their allies, the Mahües not following the practice, but contenting themselves with a simple “coat” of paint.It is difficult to say what motive first inducted human beings into this singular and barbarous custom. It is easier to tell why it is still followed, and the “why” is answered by saying that the Mundrucus “scarify” themselves, because their fathers did so before them. Many a custom among civilised nations, but little less ridiculous, if we could only think so, rests upon a similar basis. Perhaps our modern abominable hat—though it has a different origin—is not less ludicrous than the tatooed patterns of the savage. Certainly it is quite equal to it in ugliness, and is likely to rival it in permanence,—to our sorrow be it said. But evenwedeal slightly in the tatoo. Our jolly Jack would be nobody in the forecastle without “Polly,” in blue, upon his weather-beaten breast, and thefoul anchorupon his arm.But the Mundrucu baptises his unfortunate offspring in a still more savage fashion. The tattoo may be termed thebaptism in blood, performed at the tender age of ten. When the youth—fortunately it does not extend to the weaker sex—has attained to the age of eighteen, he has then to undergo thetocandeira, which deserves to be calledthe baptism of fire!This too merits description. When the Mundrucu youth would become a candidate for manhood, a pair of “gloves” is prepared for him. These consist of two pieces of a palm-tree bark, with the pith hollowed out, but left in at one end. The hollow part is of sufficient diameter to draw over the hands loosely, and so long as to reach up to mid-arm, after the fashion of gauntlets.The “gloves” being got ready, are nearly filled with ants, not only the venomous red ants, but all other species, large or small, that can either bite or sting, of which tropical South America possesses an endless variety. With this “lining” the “mittens” are ready for use, and the “novice” is compelled to draw them on. Should he refuse, or even exhibit a disposition to shrink from the fiery trial, he is a lost man. From that hour he need never hold up his head, much less offer his hand and heart, for there is not a maiden in all Mundrucu-land that would listen to his softest speech. He is forever debarred from the pleasure of becoming a benedict. Of course he does not refuse, but plunging his hands into the “mittens,” into the very midst of the crawling host, he sets about the ceremony.He must keep on the gloves till he has danced before every door in the village. He must sing as if from very joy; and there is plenty of music to accompany him, drums and fifes, and human voices,—for his parents and relatives are by his side encouraging him with their songs and gestures. He is in pain,—in positive agony,—for these venomous ants both sting and bite, and have been busy at both from the very first moment. Each moment his agony grows more intense, his sufferings more acute, for the poison is thrilling through his veins,—he turns pale,—his eyes become blood-cast,—his breast quivers with emotion and his limbs tremble beneath him; but despite all this, woe to him if he utter a cry of weakness! It would brand him with an eternal stigma,—he would never be suffered to carry the Mundrucu lance to battle,—to poise upon its point the ghastly trophy of theBeheaders. On, on, through the howling throng, amidst friends and relatives with faces anxious as his own; on to the sound of the shrill-piping reed and the hoarse booming of the Indian drum; on till he stands in front of the cabin of the chief! There again the song is sung, the “jig” is danced, both proudly prolonged till the strength of the performer becomes completely exhausted. Then, and not till then, the gloves are thrown aside, and the wearer falls back, into the arms of his friends, “sufficiently punished!”This is the hour of congratulation. Girls gather round him, and fling their tatooed arms about his neck. They cluster and cling upon him, singing his song of triumph; but just at that crisis he is not in the mood for soft caresses; and, escaping from their blandishments, he makes a rush towards the river. On reaching its bank he plunges bodily in, and there remains up to his neck in the water, till the cooling fluid has to some extent eased his aching arms, and tranquillised the current of his boiling blood. When he emerges from the water, he is a man, fit stuff for a Mundrucu warrior, and eligible to the hand of a Mundrucu maiden.It may be remarked that this terrible ordeal of the Mundrucus, though, perhaps, peculiar among South-American Indians, has its parallel among certain tribes of the north,—the Mandans and others, as detailed by Catlin, one of the most acute of ethnological observers.Thescalp trophy, too, of the Northern Indian has its analogy in a Mundrucu custom—that which distinguishes him most of all, and which has won for him the terrible title of “Beheader.”This singular appellation is now to be explained.When a Mundrucu has succeeded in killing an enemy, he is not, like his northern compeer, satisfied with only the skin of the head.He must have the whole head, scalp and skull, bones, brains, and all! And he takes all, severing the head with his knife by a clean cut across the small of the neck, and leaving the trunk to the vulture king. With the ghastly trophy poised upon the point of his lance, he returns triumphant to the malocca to receive the greetings of his tribe and the praises of his chief.But the warlike exploit requires a memento—some token by which he may perpetuate its fame. The art of printing does not exist among the Mundrucus, and there is no friendly pen to record the deed. It has been done,—behold the evidence! much clearer than often accompanies the exploits of civilised heroes. There is the evidence of an enemy slain; there is the grim, gory voucher, palpable both to sight and touch—proof positive that there is a dead body somewhere.Of course, such evidence is sufficient for the present; but how about the future? As time passes, the feat may be forgotten, as great deeds are elsewhere. Somebody may even deny it. Some slanderous tongue may whisper, or insinuate, or openly declare that it was no exploit after all—that there was no dead man; for the vultures by this time would have removed the body, and the white ants (termites) would have equally extinguished all traces of the bones. How, then, are the proofs to be preserved?By preserving the head! And this is the very idea that is in the mind of the Mundrucu warrior. He is resolved not to permit his exploit to be buried in oblivion byburying the headof his enemy. That tongue, though mute, will tell the tale to posterity; that pallid cheek, though, perhaps, it may become a little shrivelled in the “drying,” will still be smooth enough to show that there is notatoo, and to be identified as the skin of an enemy. Some young Mundrucu, yet unborn, will read in the countenance of that grinning and gory witness, the testimony of his father’s prowess. The head, therefore, must be preserved; and it is preserved with as much care as the cherished portrait of a famous ancestor. The cranial relic is evenembalmed, as if out of affection for him to whom it belonged. The brains and eye-balls are removed, to facilitate the process of desiccation; but false eyes are inserted, and the tongue, teeth, and ears, scalp, skull, and hair, are all retained, not only retained, but “titivated” out in the most approved style of fashion. The long hair is carefully combed out, parted, and arranged; brilliant feathers of rock-cock and macaw are planted behind the ears and twisted in the hanging tresses. An ornamental string passes through the tongue, and by this the trophy is suspended from the beams of the great malocca.It is not permitted to remain there. In some dark niche of this Golgotha—this Mundruquin Westminster—it might be overlooked and forgotten. To prevent this it is often brought forth, and receives many an airing. On all warlike and festive occasions does it appear, poised upon the point of the warrior’s lance; and even in peaceful times it may be seen—along with hundreds of its like—placed in the circular row around the manioc clearing, and lending its demure countenance to the labours of the field.It is not a little singular that this custom of embalming the heads of their enemies is found among the Dyaks of Borneo, and the process in both places is ludicrously similar. Another rare coincidence occurs between the Amazonian tribes and the Bornean savages, viz in both being provided with the blow-gun. Thegravitanaof the American tribes is almost identical with the sumpitan of Borneo. It furnishes a further proof of our theory regarding an original connection between the American Indians and the savages of the great South Sea.The Mundrucu is rarely ill off in the way of food. When he is so, it is altogether his own fault, and chargeable to his indolent disposition. The soil of his territory is of the most fertile kind, and produces many kinds of edible fruits spontaneously, as the nuts of thepupunhapalm and the splendid fruits of theBertholetia excelsa, or juvia-tree, known in Europe as “Brazil-nuts.” Of these then are two kinds, as mentioned elsewhere, the second being a tree of the genusLecythys,—theLecythys ollaria, or “monkey-pot” tree. It obtains this trivial name from the circumstance, first, of its great pericarp, almost as large as a child’s head, having a movable top or lid, which falls off when the fruit ripens; and secondly, from the monkeys being often seen drawing the seeds or nuts out of that part of the shell which remains attached to the tree, and which, bearing a considerable resemblance to a pot in its shape, is thus very appropriately designated the pot of the monkeys. The common Indian name of the monkey-pot tree issapuçaia, and the nuts of this species are so called in commerce, though they are also termed Brazil-nuts. They are of a more agreeable flavour than the true Brazil-nuts, and not so easily obtained, as theLecythysis less generally distributed over the Amazonian valley. It requires a peculiar soil, and grows only in those tracts that are subject to the annual inundations of the rivers.The true Brazil-nuts are the “juvia” trees of the Indians; and the season for collecting them is one of theharvestsof the Mundrucu people. The great pericarps—resembling large cocoa-nuts when stripped of the fibres—do not open and shed their seeds, as is the case with the monkey-pot tree. The whole fruit falls at once; and as it is very heavy, and the branches on which it grows are often nearly a hundred feet from the ground, it may easily be imagined that it comes down like a ten-pound shot; in fact, one of them falling upon the head of a Mundrucu would be very likely to crush his cranium, as a bullet would an egg-shell; and such accidents not unfrequently occur to persons passing imprudently under the branches of the Bertholetia when its nuts are ripe. Sometimes the monkeys, when on the ground looking after those that have fallen, become victims to the like accident; but these creatures are cunning reasoners, and being by experience aware of the danger, will scarce ever go under a juvia-tree, but when passing one always make a wide circuit around it. The monkeys cannot of themselves open the great pericarp, as they do that of the “sapuçaia,” but are crafty enough to get at the precious contents, notwithstanding. In doing this they avail themselves of the help of other creatures, that have also a motive in opening the juvia shells—cavies and other small rodent animals, whose teeth, formed for this very purpose, enable them to gnaw a hole in the ligneous pericarps, hard and thick as they are. Meanwhile the monkeys, squatted around, watch the operation in a careless, nonchalant sort of way, as if they had no concern whatever in the result; but as soon as they perceive that an entrance has been effected, big enough to admit their hand, they rush forward, drive off the weaker creature, who has been so long and laboriously at work, and take possession of the prize.Neither does the Mundrucu nut-gatherer get possession of the juvia fruit without a certain degree of danger and toil. He has to climb the tallest trees, to secure the whole crop at one time; and while engaged in collecting those upon the ground, he is in danger of a blow from odd ones that are constantly falling. To secure his skull against accidents, he wears upon his head a thick wooden cap or helmet,—after the fashion of the hats worn by our firemen,—and he is always careful to keep his body in an upright attitude, stooping as seldom as he can avoid doing so, lest he might get a thump between the shoulders, or upon the spine of his back, which would be very likely to flatten him out upon the earth. These Brazil-nuts furnish the Mundrucu with a portion of his food,—as they also do many other tribes of Amazonian Indians,—and they are also an item of Indian commerce, being collected from among the different tribes by the Portuguese and Spanish traders.But the Mundrucu does not depend altogether on the spontaneous productions of the forest, which at best furnish only a precarious supply. He does something in the agricultural line,—cultivating a little manioc root, with, plantains, yams, and other tropical plants that produce an enormous yield with the very slightest trouble or attention; and this is exactly what suits him. A few days spent by the little community in the yam patch—or rather, by the women and children, for these are the agricultural labourers in Mundrucu-land—is sufficient to ensure an abundant supply of bread-stuff for the whole year. With regard to flesh-meat he is not so well off, for the domestic animals, and oxen more especially, do not thrive in the Amazon country. In Mundrucu-land, the carnivorous jaguar, aided by flies and vampire bats, would soon destroy them, even if the Indian had the inclination to raise them, which he has not.Instead of beef, therefore, he contents himself with fish, and occasionally a steak from the great tapir, or a griskin ofmanati. Birds, too, furnish him with an occasional meal; but the staple article of his flesh diet is obtained from thequadrumana,—the numerous species of monkeys with which his forests abound. These he obtains by shooting them down from the trees with his bow and arrows, and also by various other hunting devices.His mode of cooking them is sufficiently peculiar to be described. A large log fire is first kindled and permitted to burn until a sufficient quantity of red cinders are produced. Over these cinders a grating is erected with green saplings of wood, laid parallel to each other like the bars of a gridiron, and upon this the “joint” is laid.Nothing is done to the monkey before its being placed on the gridiron. Its skin is not removed, and even the intestines are not always taken out. The fire will singe off the hair sufficiently to content a Mundrucu stomach, and the hide is broiled and eaten, with the flesh. It is thus literally “carne con cuero.”It may be observed that this forest gridiron, or “barbecue,” as it is properly termed, is not an idea exclusively confined to South America. It is in use among the Indians of the north, and various uncivilised tribes in other parts of the world.Sometimes the Mundrucu does not take the trouble to construct the gridiron. When on the march in some warlike expedition that will not allow time for being particular about the mode of cooking, the joint is broiled upon a spit over the common fire. The spit is simply a stick, sharpened at both ends, one of which impales the monkey, and the other is stuck into the ground. The stick is then set with a lean towards the fire, so as to bring the carcass over the blaze. While on the spit the monkey appears in a sitting position, with its head upward, and its long tail hanging along the sapling,—just as if it were still living, and in one of its most natural attitudes, clinging to the branch of a tree! The sight is sufficiently comical; but sometimes a painful spectacle has been witnessed,—painful to any one but a savage: when the young of the monkey has been captured along with its dam, and still recognising the form of its parent,—even when all the hair has been singed off, and the skin has become calcined by the fire,—is seen rushing forward into the very flames, and with plaintive cry inviting the maternal embrace! Such an affecting incident has been often witnessed amid the forests of Amazopia.We conclude our sketch of the Mundrucus, by stating that their form of government is despotic, though not to an extreme degree. The “tushao,” or chief, has considerable power, though it is not absolute, and does not extend to the taking of life,—unless the object of displeasure be a slave, and many of these are held in abject bondage among the Mundrucus.The Mundrucu religion resembles that of many other tribes both in North and South America. It consists in absurd ceremonies, and appeals to the good and evil spirits of the other world, and is mixed up with a vast deal of quackery in relation to the ills that afflict the Mundrucu in this life. In other words, it is a combination of the priest and doctor united in one, that arch-charlatan known to the North-American Indians as the “Medicine-man,” and among the Mundrucus as the “Puge.”
In our general sketch of the Amazonian Indians it was stated that there were some few tribes who differed in certain customs from all the rest, and who might even be regarded asodd among the odd. One of these tribes is theMundrucu, which, from its numbers and warlike strength, almost deserves to be styled a nation. It is, at all events, a powerful confederacy, of different tribes, linked together in one common nationality, and including in their league other Indians which the Mundrucus themselves first conquered, and afterwards associated with themselves on terms of equality; in other words, “annexed” them. The same sort of annexation or alliance is common among the tribes of North America; as in the case of the powerful Comanche nation, who extend their protecting alliance over the Wacoes, Washites, and Cayguäas or Kioways.
TheMahüeis the principal tribe that is patronised in this fashion by the Mundrucus, and the two together number at least 20,000 souls.
Before the days of the Portuguese slave-hunting, the Mundrucus occupied the south bank of the Amazon, from the mouth of the Tapajos to that of the Madeira. This infamous traffic had the effect of clearing the banks of the great river of its native inhabitants,—except such of them as chose to submit to slavery, or becomeneophytes, by adopting the monkish faith. Neither of these courses appeared pleasing in the eyes of the Mundrucus, and they adopted the only alternative that was likely to insure their independence,—by withdrawing from the dangerous proximity of the sanguinary slave-trade.
This retreat of the Mundrucus, however, was by no means an ignominious flight. The withdrawal was voluntary on their part, and not compulsory, as was the case with weaker tribes. From the earliest times they had presented a firm front to the Portuguese encroachments, and the latter were even forced into a sort of nefarious alliance with them. The leaving the Amazon on the part of the Mundrucus was rather the result of a negotiation, by which they conceded their territory—between the mouths of the Tapajos and Madeira—to the Brazilian government; and to this hour they are not exactly unfriendly to Brazilianwhites, though to the mulattoes and negroes, who constitute a large proportion of the Brazilian population, the Mundrucu knows no other feeling than that of a deadly hostility. The origin of their hatred of the Brazilian blacks is to be found in a revolt which occurred in the provinces of the Lower Amazon (at Para) in 1835. It was acasterevolution against whites, but more especially againstEuropeanPortuguese. In this affair the Mundrucus were employed against the darker-skinned rebels—theGabanos, as they were called—and did great service in putting down the rebellion. Hence they retain a lingering spark of friendship for theirci-devantwhite allies; or perhaps it would be more correct to say they do not actually hate them, but carry on a little commerce with their traders. For all that, they occasionally cut the throats of a few of the latter,—especially those who do not come to deal directly with them, but who pass through their country in going from the Amazon to the diamond mines of Brazil. These last are calledMonçaos, and their business is to carry supplies from the towns on the Amazon (Santarem and Para) to the miners of gold and washers of diamonds in the district of Matto Grosso, of which Cuiaba is the capital. Their route is by water and “portage” up the Tapajos river, and through the territory of the dreaded Mundrucus,—requiring a journey of six months, as perilous and toilsome as it is tedious.
The present residence of the Mundrucus is between the Tapajos and Madeira, as formerly, but far up on both rivers. On the Tapajos, above what are known as the “Caxoeiras,” or Cataracts, their villages are found. There they dwell, free from all molestation on the part of the whites; their borders extending widely around them, and limited only by contact with those of other warlike tribes like themselves, who are their deadly enemies. Among these last are theMuras, who dwell at the mouths of the Madeira and Rio Negro.
The Mundrucus build themalocca, elsewhere described; only in their case it is not used as a dwelling, but rather as a grand arsenal, a council-chamber, a ballroom, and, if need be, a fortress. When fearing an attack, all sleep in it “under arms.” It is a structure of large size and great strength, usually rendered more unassailable by being “chinked” and plastered with clay. It is in this building that are deposited those horrid trophies which have given to the Mundrucus their terrible title ofdecapitadores, or “beheaders.” The title and its origin shall be presently explained.
Around the great malocca the huts are placed, forming a village, and in these the people ordinarily dwell.
The Mundrucus are not without ample means of subsistence. Like most other Amazonian tribes, they cultivate a little manioc, plantains, and even maize; and they know how to prepare thefarinhameal, and, unfortunately, also the detestablechicha, the universal beverage of the South-American aborigines. They have their vessels of calabash—both of the vegetable and arborescent kinds—and a full set of implements and utensils for the field and kitchen. Their war weapons are those common to other Amazonian tribes, and they sometimes also carry the spear. They have canoes of hollow trees; and, of course, fishing and hunting are the employments of the men,—the women, as almost everywhere else among Indians, doing the drudgery,—the tilling and reaping, the “hewing of wood and the drawing of water,” the making the household utensils and using them,—all such offices being beneath the dignity of the “lordly,” or ratherlazysavage.
I have said that they carry on a commercial intercourse with the white traders. It is not of much magnitude, and their exports consist altogether of the native and spontaneous productions of the soil, sarsaparilla being one of the chief articles. They gather this (the women and children do) during six months of the year. The other six months no industry is followed,—as this period is spent in hostile excursions against the neighbouring tribes. Their imports consist of iron tools and pieces for weapons; but they more especially barter the product of their labour for ornamental gewgaws,—such as savages universally admire and desire. Their sarsaparilla is good, and much sought for in the medical market.
Every one is acquainted with the nature and character of this valuable medicinal root, the appearance of which must also be known to almost everybody,—since it is so very common for our druggists to display the bundles of it in their shop windows. Perhaps every one is not acquainted with the fact, that the sarsaparilla root is the product of a great many different species of plants most of them of the genusSimlax, but not a few belonging to plants of other genera, as those ofCarexandHerreriathe roots of which are also sold as sarsaparilla. The species of simlax are widely distributed throughout the whole torrid zone, in Asia, Africa, and America, and some kinds are found growing many degrees outside the tropics,—as is the case in Virginia and the valley of the Mississippi, and also on the other side of the Pacific on the great continent-island of Australia.
The best sarsaparilla, however, is that which is produced in tropical countries, and especially in moist situations, where the atmosphere is at once hot and humid. It requires these conditions to concentrate the virtue of its sap, and render it more active.
It would be idle to give a list of the different species of simlax that furnish the sarsaparilla root of the pharmacopeia. There is an almost endless number of them, and they are equally varied in respect to excellence of quality; some kinds are in reality almost worthless, and for this reason, in using it as a medicine, great care should be taken in the selection of the species. Like all other articles, either of food or medicine, the valuable kinds are the scarcest; the reason in this case being that the best sarsaparilla is found in situations not only difficult of access, but where the gathering of its root is attended with considerable danger, from the unhealthy nature of the climate and the hostility of the savages in whose territory it grows. As to the quantity that may be obtained, there is no limit, on the score of any scarcity of the plant itself, since it is found throughout all the countries of tropical America plenteously distributed both in species and individual plants. Such quantities of it grow along the banks of some South-American rivers, that the Indians have a belief that those streams known asblack waters—such as the Rio Negro and others—derive their peculiar colour from the roots of this plant. This, however, is an erroneous supposition, as there are many of thewhite-waterrivers that run through regions abundantly supplied with the sarsaparilla root. The black water, therefore, must arise from some other cause, as yet unknown.
As observed, the sarsaparilla of the Mundrucu country is of the very best quality. It is theSimlax papyraceaof Soiret, and is known in commerce as the “Lisbon,” or “Brazilian.” It is a climbing plant, or under-shrub, the stem of which is flattened and angular, with rows of prickles standing along the prominent edges. Its leaves are of an oval acuminated shape, and marked withlongitudinalnerves. It shoots without any support, to a height of fifteen or twenty feet, after which it embraces the surrounding branches of trees and spreads to a great distance in every direction. The main root sends out many long tendrils, all of like thickness, covered with a brownish bark, or sometimes of a dark-grey colour. These tendrils are fibrous, and about as thick as a quill. They present a constant tendency to become crooked, and they are also wrinkled longitudinally, with here and there some smaller lateral fibres branching off from the sides.
It is in the bark or epidermis of the rhizomes that the medicinal virtue lies; but the tendrils—both rhizome and bark—are collected together, and no attempt is made to separate them, until they have reached their commercial destination. Indeed, even these are sold together, the mode of preparing the root being left to the choice of the consumer, or the apothecary who procures it.
The Mundrucus collect it during the six months of the rainy season, partly because during the remaining six they are otherwise employed, and partly for the reason that, in the time of rain, the roots are more easily extracted from the damp soil. The process simply consists in digging them up or dragging them out of the earth—the latter mode especially where the tendrils lie near the surface, and they will pull up without breaking. If the main root be not dug out, it will send forth new tendrils, which in a short time would yield a new crop; but the improvident savages make no prudential calculations of this kind—present convenience forming their sole consideration; and on this account both the root and plant are generally destroyed by them during the operation of collecting.
As already stated, this labour devolves upon the women, who are also assisted in it by their children. They proceed into the depths of the forest—where the simlax grows in greatest abundance—and after collecting as much root as they can carry home with them, they return with their bundles to the malocca When fresh gathered the sarsaparilla is heavy enough—partly on account of the sap which it then contains, and partly from the quantity of the mud or earth that adheres to the corrugated surface of the roots.
It is extremely probable that in this fresh state the virtue of the sarsaparilla, as a blood-purifier, is much greater than after it has passed through the channels of commerce; and the writer of this sketch has some reason, derived from personal experience, to believe that such is the case. Certain it is, that the reputation of this invaluable drug is far less in countries where the plant does not grow, than in those where it is common and can be obtained in its fresh state. In all parts of Spanish America its virtues are unquestioned, and experience has led to a more extensive use of it there than elsewhere. It is probable, therefore, that the virtue exists in the juice rather than the cortical integument of the rhizome; and this of course would be materially altered and deteriorated, if not altogether destroyed, in the process of exsiccation, which must necessarily take place in the time required for transporting it to distant parts of the world. In the European pharmacopeia it is the epidermis of the root which is supposed to contain the sanitary principle; and this, which is of a mucilaginous nature and slightly bitter taste, is employed, both in decoctions and infusions, as a tonic and alterative. In America, however, it is generally taken for what is termedpurifying the blood—for the same purpose as the rhizomes of theLauras sassafrasand other plants are used; but the sarsaparilla is generally considered the best, and it certainlyisthe best of all known medicines for this purpose. Why it has fallen in the estimation of the Old World practitioners, or why it never obtained so great a reputation as it has in America, may arise from two circumstances. First, that the root offered for sale is generally the product of the less valuable species; and second, that the sap, and not the rhizome, may be the part that contains the virtuous principle.
When the collected roots have been kept for awhile they become dry and light, and for the convenience of stowage and carriage—an important consideration to the trader in his eight-tongarratea—it is necessary to have the roots done up in packages of a uniform length and thickness. These packages are formed by laying the roots side by side, and doubling in the ends of the longer ones. A bundle of the proper size for stowage contains anarrobaof twenty-five pounds, though the weight varies according to the condition of the root. Uniformity in size is the chief object aimed at, and the bundles are made of a round or cylindrical shape, about five inches in diameter, and something more than a yard in length. They are trimmed off small at the ends—so as to admit of stowage without leaving any empty space between two tiers of them—and each bundle is tightly corded round from one end to the other with a “sipo,” or creeping plant.
It has been stated that this “sipo” is a root of the sarsaparilla itself, with the bark scraped off; and, indeed, its own root would serve well enough—were it not that putting it to such a use would destroy its medicinal value, and thus cause a considerable waste of the costly material. The sarsaparilla is not to be had for nothing even upon the banks of the Tapajos. A bundle of the best quality does not leave the hands of the Mundrucu until about four dollars’ worth of exchange commodities have been put into them, which would bring the price of it to something over sixpence a pound. He is, therefore, a little particular about wasting a material that has cost him—or rather his wife and children—so much trouble in collecting. His cordage is obtained more cheaply, and consists of the long, flexible roots of a species ofpothos, which roots—being what are termedaerialand not buried in the ground—require no labour or digging to get at them. It is only necessary to stretch up the hand, and pull them down from the tops of lofty trees, from which they hang like streamers, often to the length of a hundred feet. These are toughened by the bark being scraped off; and when that is done they are ready for use, and serve not only to tie up the bundles of sarsaparilla, but for many other purposes in the domestic economy of the Mundrucus.
In addition to the sarsaparilla, the Mundrucu furnishes the trader with several other items of commercial value—for his climate, although one of the most unhealthy in all the Amazon region, on account of its great heat and humidity, is for that very reason one of the most fertile. Nearly all those tropical vegetable products which are characteristics of Brazilian export commerce can here be produced of the most luxuriant kind; but it is only those that grow spontaneously at his very doors that tempt the Mundrucu to take the trouble of collecting them.
There is one article however, which he not only takes some trouble to collect, but also to manufacture into an item of commercial exchange—a very rare item indeed. This is theguarana, which is manufactured from the fruit of a tree almost peculiar to the Mundrucu territory—since nowhere is it found so abundantly as on the Tapajos. It is so prized in the Brazilian settlements as to command almost its weight in silver when transported thither. It is the constituent element of a drink, which has a stimulating effect on the system, somewhat more powerful than tea or coffee. It will prevent sleep; but its most valuable property is, that it is a good febrifuge, equal to the best quinine.Guaranais prepared from the seeds of an inga—one of theMimosacae. It is a low, wide-spreading tree like most of the mimosa family. The legumes are gathered, and the seeds roasted in them. The latter are then taken out, and after being ground to powder, are mixed with water so as to make a tough paste, which is moulded into little bricks, and when dried is ready for use. The beverage is then prepared by scraping a table-spoonful of dust from the brick, and mixing it with about a pint of water; and the dry paste, keeping for any length of time, is ready whenever wanted.
Theguaranabush grows elsewhere in the Amazon valley, and on some headwaters of the Orinoco, where certain tribes also know how to prepare the drink. But it is sparingly distributed, and is nowhere so common as on the upper Tapajos hence its high price in the markets of Brazil. The Mundrucu manufactures it, not only for “home use,” but for “exportation.”
He prepares another singular article of luxury, and this he makes exclusively for his own use,—not for the gratification of his lips or palate, but for his nose,—in other words, a snuff. Do not fancy, however, that it is snuff of the ordinary kind—the pulverised produce of innocent tobacco. No such thing; but a composition of such a powerful and stimulating character, that he who inhales it feels as if struck by an electric shock; his body trembles; his eyes start forward as if they would forsake their sockets; his limbs fail to support him; and he drops to the earth like one in a state of intoxication! For a short time he is literally mad; but the fit is soon over,—lasting usually only a few minutes,—and then a feeling of renewed strength, courage, and joyousness succeeds. Such are the consequences of taking snuff with a Mundrucu.
And now to describe the nature of the substance which produces these powerful effects.
Like theguaranathis snuff is a preparation, having for its basis the seeds of a leguminous tree. This time, however, it is anacacia, not aninga. It is theacacia niopo; so called because “niopo” is the name given to the snuff itself by certain tribes (the Ottomacs and others), who, like the Mundrucus, are snuff-takers. It is also calledcurupa, and the apparatus for preparing and taking it—for there is an apparatus of an extensive kind—is termedparica, in the general language (lingoa geral) of the Amazonian regions.
We shall describe the preparation, the apparatus, and the ceremonial.
The pods of theAcacia niopo—a small tree, with very delicate pinnate leaves—are plucked when ripe. They are then cut into small pieces and flung into a vessel of water. In this they remain until macerated, and until the seeds have turned black. These are then picked out, pounded in a mortar, which is usually the pericarp of thesapuçaia, or “monkey-pot” tree (Lecythys ollaria). The pounding reduces them to a paste, which is taken up, clapped between the hands and formed into little cakes—but not until it has been mixed with some manioc flour, some lime from a burnt shell (ahelix), and a little juice from the fresh leaves of the “abuta”—a menispermous plant of the genusCocculus. The cakes are then dried or “barbecued” upon a primitive gridiron—the bars of which are saplings of hard wood—and when well-hardened the snuff is ready for the “box.” In a box it is actually carried—usually one made out of some rare and beautiful shell.
The ceremonial of taking the snuff is the most singular part of the performance. When a Mundrucu feels inclined for a “pinch”—though it is something more than apinchthat he inhales when hedoesfeel inclined—he takes the cake out of the box, scrapes off about a spoonful of it into a shallow, saucer-shaped vessel of the calabash kind, and then spreads the powder all over the bottom of the vessel in a regular “stratification.” The spreading is not performed by the fingers, but with a tiny, pencil-like brush made out of the bristles of the great ant-eater (Myrmecophaga jubata).
He is in no hurry, but takes his time,—for as you may guess from its effects, the performance is not one so often repeated as that of ordinary snuff-taking. When theniopodust is laid to his liking, another implement is brought into play, the construction of which it is also necessary to describe. It is a “machine” of six to eight inches in length, and is made of two quills from the wing of thegaviao real, or “harpy eagle” (Harpyia destructor). These quills are placed side by side for the greater part of their length, forming two parallel tubes, and they are thus neatly whipped together by a thread. At one end they are pressed apart so as to diverge to a width corresponding to the breadth between the Mundrucu’s nostrils,—where it is intended they shall be placed during the ceremony of snuff-taking.
And thus are they placed,—one end of each quill being slightly intruded within the line of the septum, while the other end rests upon the snuff, or wanders over the surface of the saucer, till all the powder placed there is drawn up and inhaled, producing the convulsive effects already detailed.
The shank-bone of a species of bird—thought to be a plover—is sometimes used instead of the quills. It is hollow, and has a forking-tube at the end. This kind is not common or easily obtained, for the niopo-taker who has one, esteems it as the most valuable item of his apparatus.
Snuffing the niopo is not exclusively confined to the Mundrucu. We have seen elsewhere that it is also a habit of the dirt-eating Ottomacs; and other tribes on the upper Amazon practise it. But the Mahües, already mentioned as the allies of the Mundrucus, are the most confirmed snuff-takers of all.
Another odd custom of the Mundrucus is their habit of “tatooing.” I speak of real tatooing,—that is, marking the skin with dots and lines that cannot be effaced, in contradistinction to merepainting, or staining, which can easily be washed off. The Mundrucus paint also, with theanotto,kuitoc,caruta, and other pigments, but in this they only follow the practice of hundreds of other tribes. The truetatoois a far different affair, and scarcely known among the aborigines of America, though common enough in the islands of the South Sea. A few other Indian tribes practise it to a limited extent,—as is elsewhere stated,—but among the Mundrucus it is an “institution;” and painful though the process be, it has to be endured by every one in the nation, “every mother’s son,” and daughter as well, that are cursed with a Mundrucu for their father.
It is upon the young people the infliction is performed,—when they are about eight or ten years of age.
Thetatoohas been so often described, that I should not repeat it here; but there are a few “points” peculiar to Mundrucu tatooing, and a few others, not elsewhere understood.
The performance is usually the work of certain old crones, who, from long practice, have acquired great skill in the art.
The chief instrument used is a comb of thorns,—not a single thorn, as is generally stated,—but a tier or row of them set comb-fashion. These thorns are the spines of the “murumuru,” or “pupunha” palm (Gullielmia speciosa). Humboldt states that this palm is smooth and spineless, but in this the great, good man was in error. Its trunk is so covered with thorns or spines, that when the Indians require to climb it—for the purpose of procuring the valuable fruits, which they eat variously prepared—they have to erect a staging, or rude sort of ladder, to be able to get at them.
The comb, then, is pressed down upon the skin of the “tatooee,” till all the points have penetrated the flesh, and a row of holes is laid open, from which the blood flows profusely. As soon as this can be wiped off, ashes of a burnt gum or pitch are rubbed into the wounds, which, when healed, appear like so many dots of a deep bluish or black colour. In this way the young Mundrucus, both boys and girls, get those regular rows of dotted lines, which traverse their forehead and cheeks, their arms and limbs, breasts, and bodies in such eccentric fashion. It has often been asked how these lines of dots were carried over the skin in such straight and symmetrical rows, forming regular parallel lines, or other geometrical patterns. The “comb” will explain the mystery.
The tatoo, with a few strings of shell-beads or necklaces, and bracelets of monkey and jaguar teeth, is all the dress which is permitted to the Mundrucu belle. In Mundrucu-land it is the reverse of what is practised among civilised people: the men are the exponents of the fashions, and keep exclusively to themselves the cosmetics and bijouterie. Not contented with being tatooed, these alsopainttheir bodies, by way of “overcoat,” and also adorn themselves with the bright feathers of birds. They wear on their heads the beautiful circlet of macaw-plumes, and on grand occasions appear in the magnificent “feather dress,” so long celebrated as the peculiar costume of the tropical-forest Indian. These dresses their women weave and border, at a sacrifice of much tedious labour. They also ornament their arms and legs with rows of feathers around them, the tips turned upward and backward.
The tatooing is confined to the Mundrucus proper,—their allies, the Mahües not following the practice, but contenting themselves with a simple “coat” of paint.
It is difficult to say what motive first inducted human beings into this singular and barbarous custom. It is easier to tell why it is still followed, and the “why” is answered by saying that the Mundrucus “scarify” themselves, because their fathers did so before them. Many a custom among civilised nations, but little less ridiculous, if we could only think so, rests upon a similar basis. Perhaps our modern abominable hat—though it has a different origin—is not less ludicrous than the tatooed patterns of the savage. Certainly it is quite equal to it in ugliness, and is likely to rival it in permanence,—to our sorrow be it said. But evenwedeal slightly in the tatoo. Our jolly Jack would be nobody in the forecastle without “Polly,” in blue, upon his weather-beaten breast, and thefoul anchorupon his arm.
But the Mundrucu baptises his unfortunate offspring in a still more savage fashion. The tattoo may be termed thebaptism in blood, performed at the tender age of ten. When the youth—fortunately it does not extend to the weaker sex—has attained to the age of eighteen, he has then to undergo thetocandeira, which deserves to be calledthe baptism of fire!
This too merits description. When the Mundrucu youth would become a candidate for manhood, a pair of “gloves” is prepared for him. These consist of two pieces of a palm-tree bark, with the pith hollowed out, but left in at one end. The hollow part is of sufficient diameter to draw over the hands loosely, and so long as to reach up to mid-arm, after the fashion of gauntlets.
The “gloves” being got ready, are nearly filled with ants, not only the venomous red ants, but all other species, large or small, that can either bite or sting, of which tropical South America possesses an endless variety. With this “lining” the “mittens” are ready for use, and the “novice” is compelled to draw them on. Should he refuse, or even exhibit a disposition to shrink from the fiery trial, he is a lost man. From that hour he need never hold up his head, much less offer his hand and heart, for there is not a maiden in all Mundrucu-land that would listen to his softest speech. He is forever debarred from the pleasure of becoming a benedict. Of course he does not refuse, but plunging his hands into the “mittens,” into the very midst of the crawling host, he sets about the ceremony.
He must keep on the gloves till he has danced before every door in the village. He must sing as if from very joy; and there is plenty of music to accompany him, drums and fifes, and human voices,—for his parents and relatives are by his side encouraging him with their songs and gestures. He is in pain,—in positive agony,—for these venomous ants both sting and bite, and have been busy at both from the very first moment. Each moment his agony grows more intense, his sufferings more acute, for the poison is thrilling through his veins,—he turns pale,—his eyes become blood-cast,—his breast quivers with emotion and his limbs tremble beneath him; but despite all this, woe to him if he utter a cry of weakness! It would brand him with an eternal stigma,—he would never be suffered to carry the Mundrucu lance to battle,—to poise upon its point the ghastly trophy of theBeheaders. On, on, through the howling throng, amidst friends and relatives with faces anxious as his own; on to the sound of the shrill-piping reed and the hoarse booming of the Indian drum; on till he stands in front of the cabin of the chief! There again the song is sung, the “jig” is danced, both proudly prolonged till the strength of the performer becomes completely exhausted. Then, and not till then, the gloves are thrown aside, and the wearer falls back, into the arms of his friends, “sufficiently punished!”
This is the hour of congratulation. Girls gather round him, and fling their tatooed arms about his neck. They cluster and cling upon him, singing his song of triumph; but just at that crisis he is not in the mood for soft caresses; and, escaping from their blandishments, he makes a rush towards the river. On reaching its bank he plunges bodily in, and there remains up to his neck in the water, till the cooling fluid has to some extent eased his aching arms, and tranquillised the current of his boiling blood. When he emerges from the water, he is a man, fit stuff for a Mundrucu warrior, and eligible to the hand of a Mundrucu maiden.
It may be remarked that this terrible ordeal of the Mundrucus, though, perhaps, peculiar among South-American Indians, has its parallel among certain tribes of the north,—the Mandans and others, as detailed by Catlin, one of the most acute of ethnological observers.
Thescalp trophy, too, of the Northern Indian has its analogy in a Mundrucu custom—that which distinguishes him most of all, and which has won for him the terrible title of “Beheader.”
This singular appellation is now to be explained.
When a Mundrucu has succeeded in killing an enemy, he is not, like his northern compeer, satisfied with only the skin of the head.He must have the whole head, scalp and skull, bones, brains, and all! And he takes all, severing the head with his knife by a clean cut across the small of the neck, and leaving the trunk to the vulture king. With the ghastly trophy poised upon the point of his lance, he returns triumphant to the malocca to receive the greetings of his tribe and the praises of his chief.
But the warlike exploit requires a memento—some token by which he may perpetuate its fame. The art of printing does not exist among the Mundrucus, and there is no friendly pen to record the deed. It has been done,—behold the evidence! much clearer than often accompanies the exploits of civilised heroes. There is the evidence of an enemy slain; there is the grim, gory voucher, palpable both to sight and touch—proof positive that there is a dead body somewhere.
Of course, such evidence is sufficient for the present; but how about the future? As time passes, the feat may be forgotten, as great deeds are elsewhere. Somebody may even deny it. Some slanderous tongue may whisper, or insinuate, or openly declare that it was no exploit after all—that there was no dead man; for the vultures by this time would have removed the body, and the white ants (termites) would have equally extinguished all traces of the bones. How, then, are the proofs to be preserved?By preserving the head! And this is the very idea that is in the mind of the Mundrucu warrior. He is resolved not to permit his exploit to be buried in oblivion byburying the headof his enemy. That tongue, though mute, will tell the tale to posterity; that pallid cheek, though, perhaps, it may become a little shrivelled in the “drying,” will still be smooth enough to show that there is notatoo, and to be identified as the skin of an enemy. Some young Mundrucu, yet unborn, will read in the countenance of that grinning and gory witness, the testimony of his father’s prowess. The head, therefore, must be preserved; and it is preserved with as much care as the cherished portrait of a famous ancestor. The cranial relic is evenembalmed, as if out of affection for him to whom it belonged. The brains and eye-balls are removed, to facilitate the process of desiccation; but false eyes are inserted, and the tongue, teeth, and ears, scalp, skull, and hair, are all retained, not only retained, but “titivated” out in the most approved style of fashion. The long hair is carefully combed out, parted, and arranged; brilliant feathers of rock-cock and macaw are planted behind the ears and twisted in the hanging tresses. An ornamental string passes through the tongue, and by this the trophy is suspended from the beams of the great malocca.
It is not permitted to remain there. In some dark niche of this Golgotha—this Mundruquin Westminster—it might be overlooked and forgotten. To prevent this it is often brought forth, and receives many an airing. On all warlike and festive occasions does it appear, poised upon the point of the warrior’s lance; and even in peaceful times it may be seen—along with hundreds of its like—placed in the circular row around the manioc clearing, and lending its demure countenance to the labours of the field.
It is not a little singular that this custom of embalming the heads of their enemies is found among the Dyaks of Borneo, and the process in both places is ludicrously similar. Another rare coincidence occurs between the Amazonian tribes and the Bornean savages, viz in both being provided with the blow-gun. Thegravitanaof the American tribes is almost identical with the sumpitan of Borneo. It furnishes a further proof of our theory regarding an original connection between the American Indians and the savages of the great South Sea.
The Mundrucu is rarely ill off in the way of food. When he is so, it is altogether his own fault, and chargeable to his indolent disposition. The soil of his territory is of the most fertile kind, and produces many kinds of edible fruits spontaneously, as the nuts of thepupunhapalm and the splendid fruits of theBertholetia excelsa, or juvia-tree, known in Europe as “Brazil-nuts.” Of these then are two kinds, as mentioned elsewhere, the second being a tree of the genusLecythys,—theLecythys ollaria, or “monkey-pot” tree. It obtains this trivial name from the circumstance, first, of its great pericarp, almost as large as a child’s head, having a movable top or lid, which falls off when the fruit ripens; and secondly, from the monkeys being often seen drawing the seeds or nuts out of that part of the shell which remains attached to the tree, and which, bearing a considerable resemblance to a pot in its shape, is thus very appropriately designated the pot of the monkeys. The common Indian name of the monkey-pot tree issapuçaia, and the nuts of this species are so called in commerce, though they are also termed Brazil-nuts. They are of a more agreeable flavour than the true Brazil-nuts, and not so easily obtained, as theLecythysis less generally distributed over the Amazonian valley. It requires a peculiar soil, and grows only in those tracts that are subject to the annual inundations of the rivers.
The true Brazil-nuts are the “juvia” trees of the Indians; and the season for collecting them is one of theharvestsof the Mundrucu people. The great pericarps—resembling large cocoa-nuts when stripped of the fibres—do not open and shed their seeds, as is the case with the monkey-pot tree. The whole fruit falls at once; and as it is very heavy, and the branches on which it grows are often nearly a hundred feet from the ground, it may easily be imagined that it comes down like a ten-pound shot; in fact, one of them falling upon the head of a Mundrucu would be very likely to crush his cranium, as a bullet would an egg-shell; and such accidents not unfrequently occur to persons passing imprudently under the branches of the Bertholetia when its nuts are ripe. Sometimes the monkeys, when on the ground looking after those that have fallen, become victims to the like accident; but these creatures are cunning reasoners, and being by experience aware of the danger, will scarce ever go under a juvia-tree, but when passing one always make a wide circuit around it. The monkeys cannot of themselves open the great pericarp, as they do that of the “sapuçaia,” but are crafty enough to get at the precious contents, notwithstanding. In doing this they avail themselves of the help of other creatures, that have also a motive in opening the juvia shells—cavies and other small rodent animals, whose teeth, formed for this very purpose, enable them to gnaw a hole in the ligneous pericarps, hard and thick as they are. Meanwhile the monkeys, squatted around, watch the operation in a careless, nonchalant sort of way, as if they had no concern whatever in the result; but as soon as they perceive that an entrance has been effected, big enough to admit their hand, they rush forward, drive off the weaker creature, who has been so long and laboriously at work, and take possession of the prize.
Neither does the Mundrucu nut-gatherer get possession of the juvia fruit without a certain degree of danger and toil. He has to climb the tallest trees, to secure the whole crop at one time; and while engaged in collecting those upon the ground, he is in danger of a blow from odd ones that are constantly falling. To secure his skull against accidents, he wears upon his head a thick wooden cap or helmet,—after the fashion of the hats worn by our firemen,—and he is always careful to keep his body in an upright attitude, stooping as seldom as he can avoid doing so, lest he might get a thump between the shoulders, or upon the spine of his back, which would be very likely to flatten him out upon the earth. These Brazil-nuts furnish the Mundrucu with a portion of his food,—as they also do many other tribes of Amazonian Indians,—and they are also an item of Indian commerce, being collected from among the different tribes by the Portuguese and Spanish traders.
But the Mundrucu does not depend altogether on the spontaneous productions of the forest, which at best furnish only a precarious supply. He does something in the agricultural line,—cultivating a little manioc root, with, plantains, yams, and other tropical plants that produce an enormous yield with the very slightest trouble or attention; and this is exactly what suits him. A few days spent by the little community in the yam patch—or rather, by the women and children, for these are the agricultural labourers in Mundrucu-land—is sufficient to ensure an abundant supply of bread-stuff for the whole year. With regard to flesh-meat he is not so well off, for the domestic animals, and oxen more especially, do not thrive in the Amazon country. In Mundrucu-land, the carnivorous jaguar, aided by flies and vampire bats, would soon destroy them, even if the Indian had the inclination to raise them, which he has not.
Instead of beef, therefore, he contents himself with fish, and occasionally a steak from the great tapir, or a griskin ofmanati. Birds, too, furnish him with an occasional meal; but the staple article of his flesh diet is obtained from thequadrumana,—the numerous species of monkeys with which his forests abound. These he obtains by shooting them down from the trees with his bow and arrows, and also by various other hunting devices.
His mode of cooking them is sufficiently peculiar to be described. A large log fire is first kindled and permitted to burn until a sufficient quantity of red cinders are produced. Over these cinders a grating is erected with green saplings of wood, laid parallel to each other like the bars of a gridiron, and upon this the “joint” is laid.
Nothing is done to the monkey before its being placed on the gridiron. Its skin is not removed, and even the intestines are not always taken out. The fire will singe off the hair sufficiently to content a Mundrucu stomach, and the hide is broiled and eaten, with the flesh. It is thus literally “carne con cuero.”
It may be observed that this forest gridiron, or “barbecue,” as it is properly termed, is not an idea exclusively confined to South America. It is in use among the Indians of the north, and various uncivilised tribes in other parts of the world.
Sometimes the Mundrucu does not take the trouble to construct the gridiron. When on the march in some warlike expedition that will not allow time for being particular about the mode of cooking, the joint is broiled upon a spit over the common fire. The spit is simply a stick, sharpened at both ends, one of which impales the monkey, and the other is stuck into the ground. The stick is then set with a lean towards the fire, so as to bring the carcass over the blaze. While on the spit the monkey appears in a sitting position, with its head upward, and its long tail hanging along the sapling,—just as if it were still living, and in one of its most natural attitudes, clinging to the branch of a tree! The sight is sufficiently comical; but sometimes a painful spectacle has been witnessed,—painful to any one but a savage: when the young of the monkey has been captured along with its dam, and still recognising the form of its parent,—even when all the hair has been singed off, and the skin has become calcined by the fire,—is seen rushing forward into the very flames, and with plaintive cry inviting the maternal embrace! Such an affecting incident has been often witnessed amid the forests of Amazopia.
We conclude our sketch of the Mundrucus, by stating that their form of government is despotic, though not to an extreme degree. The “tushao,” or chief, has considerable power, though it is not absolute, and does not extend to the taking of life,—unless the object of displeasure be a slave, and many of these are held in abject bondage among the Mundrucus.
The Mundrucu religion resembles that of many other tribes both in North and South America. It consists in absurd ceremonies, and appeals to the good and evil spirits of the other world, and is mixed up with a vast deal of quackery in relation to the ills that afflict the Mundrucu in this life. In other words, it is a combination of the priest and doctor united in one, that arch-charlatan known to the North-American Indians as the “Medicine-man,” and among the Mundrucus as the “Puge.”
Chapter Six.The Centaurs of the “Gran Chaco.”I have elsewhere stated that a broad band of independent Indian territory—that is, territory never really subdued or possessed by the Spaniards—traverses the interior of South America, extending longitudinally throughout the whole continent. Beginning at Cape Horn, it ends in the peninsula of the freeGoajiros, which projects into the Caribbean Sea,—in other words, it is nearly 5,000 miles in length. In breadth it varies much. In Patagonia and a portion of the Pampas country it extends from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and it is of still wider extent on the latitude of the Amazon river, where the whole country, from the Atlantic to the Peruvian Andes,—with the exception of some thinly-placed Brazilian settlements,—is occupied by tribes of independent Indians. At either point this territory will appear—upon maps—to be interrupted by tracts of country possessing civilised settlements. The names of towns and villages are set as thickly as if the country were well peopled; and numerous roads are traced, forming a labyrinthine network upon the paper. A broad belt of this kind extends from the Lower Parana (La Plate) to the Andes of Chili, constituting the upper provinces of the “Argentine Confederation;” another apparently joins the settlements of Bolivia and Brazil; and again in the north, the provinces of Venezuela appear to be united to those of New Granada.All this, however, is more apparent than real. The towns upon the maps are in general mererancherias, or collections of huts; some of them are the names of fortified posts, and a large proportion are but ruins,—the ruins of monkish mission settlements long since gone to destruction, and with little else than the name on the map to testify that they ever had an existence. The roads are no roads at all, nothing more than tracings on the chart showing the general route of travel.Even across the Argentine provinces—where this nomenclature appears thickest upon the map—the horse Indian of the Pampas extends his forays at will; his “range” meeting, and, in some cases, “dovetailing” into that of the tribes dwelling upon the northern side of these settlements. The latter, in their turn, carry their plundering expeditions across to the Campos Parexis, on the headwaters of the Amazon, whence stretches the independent territory, far and wide to the Amazon itself; thence to the Orinoco, and across theLlanosto the shores of the Maracaibo Gulf—the free range of the independent Goajiros.This immense belt of territory, then, is in actual possession of the aborigines. Although occupied at a few points by the white race,—Spanish and Portuguese,—the occupation scarce deserves the name. The settlements are sparse and ratherretrogradethanprogressive. The Indian ranges through and around them, wherever and whenever his inclination leads him; and only when some humiliating treaty has secured him a temporary respite from hostilities does the colonist enjoy tranquillity. At other times he lives in continual dread, scarce daring to trust himself beyond the immediate vicinity of his house or village, both of which he has been under the necessity of fortifying.It is true that at one period of South-American history things were not quite so bad. When the Spanish nation was at the zenith of its power a different condition existed; but even then, in the territory indicated, there were large tracts circumstanced just as at the present hour,—tracts which the Spaniards, with all their boasted warlike strength, were unable even toexplore, much less to subdue. One of these was that which forms the subject of our sketch, “El Gran Chaco.”Of all the tracts of wild territory existing in South America, and known by the different appellations ofPampas, Paramos, Campos Parexis, thePuna, thePajonal, Llanos, andMontanas, there is none possessed of a greater interest than that ofEl Gran Chaco,—perhaps not one that equals it in this respect. It is interesting, not only from having a peculiar soil, climate, and productions, but quite as much from the character and history of its inhabitants, both of which present us with traits and episodes truly romantic.The “Gran Chaco” is 200,000 square miles in extent, or twice the size of the British Isles. Its eastern boundary is well-defined, being the Paraguay river, and its continuation the Parana, down to the point where the latter receives one of its great western tributaries, the Salado; and this last is usually regarded as the southern and western boundary of the Chaco. Northward its limits are scarcely so definite; though the highlands of Bolivia and the old missionary province of Chiquitos, forming the water-shed between the rivers of the La Plata and the Amazonian basins—may be geographically regarded as the termination of the Chaco in that direction. North and south it extends through eleven degrees of latitude; east and west it is of unequal breadth,—sometimes expanding, sometimes contracting, according to the ability of the white settlers along it borders to maintain their frontier. On its eastern side, as already stated, the frontier is definite, and terminates on the banks of the Paraguay and Parana. East of this line—coinciding almost with a meridian of longitude—the Indian of the Gran Chaco does not roam, the well-settled province of Corrientes and the dictatorial government of Paraguay presenting a firmer front of resistance; but neither does the colonist of these countries think of crossing to the western bank of the boundary river to form any establishment there. He dares not even set his foot upon the territory of the Chaco. For a thousand miles, up and down, the two races, European and American, hold the opposite banks of this great stream. They gaze across at each other: the one from the portico of his well-built mansion, or perhaps from the street of his town; the other, standing by his humble “toldo,” or mat-covered tent,—more probably, upon the back of his half-wild horse, reined up for a moment on some projecting promontory that commands the view of the river. And thus have these two races gazed at each other for three centuries, with little other intercourse passing between them than that of a deadly hostility.The surface of the Gran Chaco is throughout of a champaign character. It may be described as a vast plain. It is not, however, a continuation of the Pampas, since the two are separated by a more broken tract of country, in which lie the sierras of Cordova and San Luis, with the Argentine settlements already mentioned. Besides, the two great plains differ essentially in their character, even to a greater extent than do the Pampas themselves from the desert steppes of Patagonia. Only a few of the animal and vegetable productions of the Gran Chaco are identical with those of the Pampas, and its Indian inhabitants are altogether unlike the sanguinary savages of the more southern plain. The Chaco, approaching many degrees nearer to the equator, is more tropical in its character; in fact, the northern portion of it is truly so, lying as it does within the torrid zone, and presenting the aspect of a tropical vegetation. Every inch of the Chaco is within the palm region; but in its northern half these beautiful trees abound in numberless species, yet unknown to the botanist, and forming the characteristic features of the landscape. Some grow in forests of many miles in extent, others only in “clumps,” with open, grass-covered plains between, while still other species mingle their graceful fronds with the leaves and branches of dicotyledonous trees, or clasped in the embrace of luxuriant llianas and parasitical climbers form groves of the most variegated verdure and fantastic outlines. With such groves the whole surface of the Chaco country is enamelled; the intervals between being occupied by plains of rich waving grass, now and then tracts of morass covered with tall and elegant reeds, a few arid spots bristling with singular forms ofalgarobiaandcactus, and, in some places, isolated rocky mounds, of dome or conical shape, rising above the general level of the plains, as if intended to be used as watch-towers for their guardianship and safety.Such are the landscapes which the Grand Chaco presents to the eye—far different from the bald and uniform monotony exhibited in the aspect of either Prairie or Pampa; far grander and lovelier than either—in point of scenic loveliness, perhaps, unequalled on earth. No wonder, then, that the Indian of South America esteems it as an earthly Elysium; no wonder that the Spaniard dreams of it as such,—though to the Spanish priest and the Spanish soldier it has ever proved more of a Purgatory than a Paradise. Both have entered upon its borders, but neither has been able to dwell within its domain; and the attempts at its conquest, by sword and cross, have been alike unsuccessful,—equally and fatally repulsed, throughout a period of more than three hundred years. At this hour, as at the time of the Peruvian conquest,—as on the day when the ships of Mendoza sailed up the waters of the Parana,—the Gran Chaco is an unconquered country, owned by its aboriginal inhabitants, and by them alone. It is true that it isclaimed, both by Spaniard and Portuguese; and by no less than four separate claimants belonging to these two nationalities. Brazil and Bolivia, Paraguay and the Argentine Confederation, all assert their title to a slice of this earthly paradise; and even quarrel as to how their boundary lines should intersect it!There is something extremely ludicrous in these claims,—since neither one nor other of the four powers can show the slightest basis for them. Not one of them can pretend to the claim of conquest; and far less can they rest their rights upon the basis of occupation or possession. So far from possessing the land, not one of them dare set foot over its borders; and they are only too well pleased if its present occupants are contented to remain within them. The claim, therefore, of both Spaniard and Portuguese, has no higher title, than that some three hundred and fifty years ago it was given them by the Pope,—a title not less ludicrous than their kissing the Pope’s toe to obtain it!In the midst of these four conflicting claimants, there appears a fifth, and that is the real owner,—the “red Indian” himself. His claim has “three points of the law” in his favour,—possession,—and perhaps the fourth, too,—the power to keep possession. At all events, he has held it for three hundred years against all odds and all comers; and who knows that he may not hold it for three hundred years more?—only, it is to be hoped, for a different use, and under the influence of a more progressive civilisation.The Indian, then, is the undoubted lord of the “Gran Chaco.” Let us drop in upon him, and see what sort of an Indian he is, and how he manages this majestic domain.After having feasted our eyes upon the rich scenery of the land,—upon the verdant plains, mottled with copses of “quebracho” and clumps of theCarandaypalm,—upon landscapes that resemble the most lordly parks, we look around for the mansions and the owners. The mansion is not there, but the owner stands before us.We are at once struck by his appearance: his person tall, and straight as a reed, his frame muscular, his limbs round and well-proportioned, piercing coal-black eyes, well-formed features, and slightly aquiline nose,—and perhaps we are a little surprised at the light colour of his skin. In this we note a decided peculiarity which distinguishes him from most other tribes of his race. It is not aredIndian we behold, nor yet acopper-colouredsavage; but a man whose complexion is scarce darker than that of the mulatto, and not at all deeper in hue than many a Spaniard of Andalusian descent, who boasts possession of the purest “sangre azul;” not one shade darker than thousands of Portuguese dwelling upon the other side of the Brazilian frontier.And remember, that it is thetrueskin of the Chaco Indian we have before our view,—and not apaintedone,—for here, almost for the first time, do we encounter the native complexion of the aboriginal, undisfigured by those horrid pigments which in these pages have so often glared before the eyes of our readers.Of paint, the Chaco Indian scarce knows the use; or, at all events, employs it sparingly, and only at intervals, on very particular and ceremonial occasions. We are spared, therefore, the describing hisescutcheon, and a positive relief it is.It would be an interesting inquiry to trace out the cause of his thus abstaining from a custom almost universal among his race. Why does he abjure the paint?Is it because he cannot afford it, or that it is not procurable in his country? No; neither of these can be offered as a reason. The “annotto” bush (Bixa orellana), and the wild-indigo, abound in his territory; and he knows how to extract the colours of both,—for his women do extract them, and use them in dying the yarn of their webs. Other dyewoods—a multitude of others—he could easily obtain; and even the cochineal cactus, with its gaudy vermilion parasite, is indigenous to his land. It cannot be the scarcity of the material that prevents him from employing it,—what then?The cause is unexplained; but may it not be that this romantic savage, otherwise more highly gifted than the rest of his race, is endowed also with a truer sense of the beautiful and becoming?Quien sabe?Let it not be understood, however, that he is altogether free from the “taint,”—for hedoespaint sometimes, as already admitted; and it must be remembered, moreover, that the Chaco Indians are not all of one tribe, nor of one community. There are many associations of them scattered over the face of this vast plain, who are not all alike, either in their habits or customs, but, on the contrary, very unlike; who are not even at all times friendly with each other, but occupied with feuds andvendettasof the most deadly description. Some of these tribes paint most frightfully, while others of them go still farther, andscarifytheir faces with the indelibletattoo,—a custom that in America is almost confined to the Indians of the Chaco and a few tribes on the southern tributaries of the Amazon. Happily this custom is on the decline: the men practise it no longer; but, by a singular perversity of taste, it is still universal among the women, and no Chaco belle would be esteemed beautiful without a cross of bluish-black dots upon her forehead, a line of like points extending from the angle of each eye to the ears, with a variety of similar markings upon her cheeks, arms, and bosom. All this is done with the point of a thorn,—the spine of amimosa, or of thecaraguatayaloe; and the dark purple colour is obtained by infusing charcoal into the fresh and bleeding punctures. It is an operation that requires days to complete, and the pain from it is of the most acute and prolonged character, enduring until the poisoned wounds become cicatrised. And yet it is borne without a murmur,—just as people in civilised life bear the painful application of hair-dyes and tweezers.I need not say that the hair of the Chaco Indian does not need to be dyed,—that is, unless he were to fancy having it of a white, or a red, or yellow colour,—not an uncommon fancy among savages.His taste, however, does not run that way any more than among civilised dandies, and he is contented with its natural hue, which is that of the raven’s wing. But he is not contented to leave it to its natural growth. Only a portion of it,—that which covers the upper part of his head,—is permitted to retain its full length and flowing glories. For the remainder, he has a peculiartonsureof his own; and the hair immediately over the forehead—and sometimes a stripe running all around above the ears, to the back of the head—is either close shaven with a sharp shell, or plucked entirely out by a pair of horn tweezers of native manufacture. Were it not that the long and luxuriant tresses that still remain,—covering his crown, as with a crest,—the shorn circle would assimilate him to some orders of friars; but, notwithstanding the similarity of tonsure, there is not much resemblance between a Chaco Indian and a brother of the crucifix and cowl.This mode of “dressing the hair” is not altogether peculiar to the Indian of the Gran Chaco. It is also practised by certain prairie tribes,—the Osage, Pawnee, and two or three others; but all these carry the “razor” a little higher up, leaving a mere patch, or “scalp-lock,” upon the crown.The Chaco tribes are beardless by nature; and if a few hairs chance to show themselves upon cheek or chin, they are carefully “wed” out. In a like fashion both men and women serve their eyebrows and lashes,—sacrificing these undoubted ornaments, as they say, to a principle of utility, since they allege that they cansee better without them! They laugh at white men, who preserve these appendages, calling them “ostrich-eyed,”—from a resemblance which they perceive between hairy brows and the stiff, hair-like feathers that bristle round the eyes of the rhea, or American ostrich,—a well-known denizen of the Gran Chaco.The costume of the Chaco Indian is one of exceeding simplicity; and in this again we observe a peculiar trait of his mind. Instead of the tawdry and tinsel ornaments, in which most savages delight to array themselves, he is contented with a single strip of cloth, folded tightly around his loins. It is usually either a piece of white cotton, or of wool woven in a tri-colour of red, white, and blue, and of hues so brilliant, as to produce altogether a pretty effect. The wear of the women scarce differs from that of the men, and the covering of both, scant as it is, is neither inelegant nor immodest. It is well adapted to their mode of life, and to their climate, which is that of an eternal spring. When cold winds sweep over their grassy plains, they seek protection under the folds of a more ample covering, with which they are provided,—a cloak usually made of the soft fur of the “nutria,” or South-American otter, or a robe of the beautiful spotted skin of the jaguar. They wear neither head-dress norchaussure,—neither pendants from the nose, not the hideous lip ornaments seen among other tribes of South America; but many of them pierce the ears; and more especially the women, who split the delicate lobes, and insert into them spiral appendages of rolled palm-leaf, that hang dangling to their very shoulders. It will be observed, therefore, that among the Chaco tribes the women disfigure themselves more than the men, and all, no doubt, in the interest offashion.It will be seen that the simple dress we have described leaves the limbs and most part of the body bare. To the superficial observer it might be deemed an inelegant costume, and perhaps so it would be among Europeans, or so-called “whites.” The deformed figures of European people—deformed by ages of toil and monarchical serfdom—would ill bear exposure to the light, neither would the tripe-coloured skin, of which they are so commonly conceited. A very different impression is produced by the rich brunette hue,—bronze, if you will,—especially when, as in the case of the Chaco Indian, it covers a body of proper shape, with arms and limbs in symmetrical proportion. Then, and then only, does costly clothing appear superfluous, and the eye at once admits that there is no fashion on earth equal to that of the human form itself.Above all does it appear graceful on horseback, and almost universally in this attitude does the Chaco Indian exhibit it. Scarce ever may we meet him afoot, but always on the back of his beautiful horse,—the two together presenting the aspect of the Centaur. And probably in the resemblance he approaches nearer to the true ideal of the Grecian myth, than any other horseman in the world; for the Chaco Indians differ not only from other “horse Indians” in their mode of equitation, but also from every other equestrian people. The absurd high-peaked saddles of Tartar and Arab, with their gaudy trappings, are unknown to him,—unknown, too, the ridiculous paraphernalia, half-hiding the horse, in use among Mexicans, South-American Spaniards, and even the Indians of other tribes,—despised by him the plated bits, the embroidered bridles, and the tinkling spurs, so tickling to the vanity of other New-World equestrians. The Chaco horseman needs no such accessories to his elegance. Saddle he has none, or only the slightest patch of jaguar-skin,—spurs and stirrups are alike absent. Naked he sits upon his naked horse, the beautiful curvature of whose form is interrupted by no extraneous trappings,—even the thong that guides him scarce observable from its slightness. Who then can deny his resemblance to the centaur?Thus mounted, with no other saddle than that described, no bridle but a thin strip of raw hide looped around the lower jaw of his horse, he will gallop wildly over the plain, wheel in graceful curves to avoid the burrows of theviscacha, pass at full speed through the close-standing and often thorny trunks of the palms, or, if need be, stand erect upon the withers of his horse, like a “star rider” of the Hippodrome. In this attitude he looks abroad for his enemies, or the game of which he may be in search; and, thus elevated above surrounding objects, he discovers the ostrich far off upon the plain, the large deer (cervus campestris), and the beautiful spotted roebucks that browse in countless herds upon the grass-covered savannas.The dwelling of the Chaco Indian is a tent, not covered with skins, but usually with mats woven from the epidermis of young leaves of a palm-tree. It is set up by two long uprights and a ridge-pole, over which the mat is suspended—very much after the fashion of thetente d’abriused by Zouave soldiers. His bed is a hammock, swung between the upright poles, or oftener, between two palm-trees growing near. He only seeks shelter in his tent when it rains, and he prevents its floor getting wet by digging a trench around the outside. He cares little for exposure to the sun; but his wife is more delicate, and usually carries over her head a large bunch ofrheafeathers,à la parasol, which protects her face from the hot scorching beams.The tent does not stand long in one situation. Ample as is the supply which Nature affords in the wilds of the Chaco, it is not all poured out in any one place. This would be too much convenience, and would result in an evil consequence. The receiver of such a benefit would soon become indolent, from the absence of all necessity for exertion; and not only his health, but his moral nature, would suffer from such abundance.Fortunately no such fate is likely to befall the Indian of the Chaco. The food upon which he subsists is derived from many varied sources, a few of which only are to be found in any one particular place, and each only at its own season of the year. For instance, upon the dry plains he pursues therheaandviscacha, the jaguar, puma,and partridges; in woods and marshy places the different species of wild hogs (peccaries). On the banks of rivers he encounters the tapir and capivara, and in their waters, fish,utrias, geese, and ducks. In the denser forest-covered tracts he must look for the various kinds of monkeys, which also constitute a portion of his food. When he would gather the legumes, of thealgarobias—of several species—or collects the sugary sap of thecaraguatay, he must visit the tracts where themimosaeandbromeliasalone flourish; and then he employs much of his time in searching for the nests of wild bees, from the honey of which and the seeds of thealgarobiahe distils a pleasant but highly intoxicating drink. To his credit, however, he uses this but sparingly, and only upon grand occasions of ceremony; how different from the bestial chicha-drinking revellers of the Pampas!These numerous journeys, and the avocations connecting with them, hinder the Chaco Indian from falling into habits of idleness, and preserve his health to a longevity that is remarkable: so much so, that “to live as long as a Chaco Indian,” has become a proverbial expression in the settlements of South America.The old Styrian monk Dobrizhoffer has chronicled the astounding facts, that among these people a man of eighty is reckoned to be in the prime of manhood; that a hundred years is accounted a common age; and that many of them are still hale and hearty at the age of one hundred and twenty! Allowing for a little exaggeration in the statements of the monk, it is nevertheless certain that the Indians of the Gran Chaco, partly owing to their fine climate, and partly to their mode of life and subsistence, enjoy health and strength to a very old age, and to a degree unknown in less-favoured regions of the world. Of this there is ample and trustworthy testimony.The food of the Chaco Indian is of a simple character, and he makes no use either of salt or spices. He is usually the owner of a small herd of cattle and a few sheep, which he has obtained by plundering the neighbouring settlements of the Spaniards. It is towards those of the south and west that he generally directs his hostile forays; for he is at peace with the riverine provinces,—Brazilian, Paraguayan, and Correntine.In these excursions he travels long distances, crossing many a fordless 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. Thepelotais 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 homed 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 theIncas,—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 favour.” One circumstance undoubtedly speaks trumpet-tongued for the Chaco Indian; and that is, he does nottorturehis captives, even whenwhitemen 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 thebolas. 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 torquatusandcollaris) 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 mimosae, called indefinitelyalgarobias, and by the missionary monks known as “Saint 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 isnota 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 favourite 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 thesweetest.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 civilised, 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 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 phraseology 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 thequebracha, 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-vitae,—in short, a trueguaiacum. 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.Thelazoandbolasare 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 armour. 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 favourite 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 a house.On going to war with a hostile tribe of his own kind and colour, 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 neighbours—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.”
I have elsewhere stated that a broad band of independent Indian territory—that is, territory never really subdued or possessed by the Spaniards—traverses the interior of South America, extending longitudinally throughout the whole continent. Beginning at Cape Horn, it ends in the peninsula of the freeGoajiros, which projects into the Caribbean Sea,—in other words, it is nearly 5,000 miles in length. In breadth it varies much. In Patagonia and a portion of the Pampas country it extends from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and it is of still wider extent on the latitude of the Amazon river, where the whole country, from the Atlantic to the Peruvian Andes,—with the exception of some thinly-placed Brazilian settlements,—is occupied by tribes of independent Indians. At either point this territory will appear—upon maps—to be interrupted by tracts of country possessing civilised settlements. The names of towns and villages are set as thickly as if the country were well peopled; and numerous roads are traced, forming a labyrinthine network upon the paper. A broad belt of this kind extends from the Lower Parana (La Plate) to the Andes of Chili, constituting the upper provinces of the “Argentine Confederation;” another apparently joins the settlements of Bolivia and Brazil; and again in the north, the provinces of Venezuela appear to be united to those of New Granada.
All this, however, is more apparent than real. The towns upon the maps are in general mererancherias, or collections of huts; some of them are the names of fortified posts, and a large proportion are but ruins,—the ruins of monkish mission settlements long since gone to destruction, and with little else than the name on the map to testify that they ever had an existence. The roads are no roads at all, nothing more than tracings on the chart showing the general route of travel.
Even across the Argentine provinces—where this nomenclature appears thickest upon the map—the horse Indian of the Pampas extends his forays at will; his “range” meeting, and, in some cases, “dovetailing” into that of the tribes dwelling upon the northern side of these settlements. The latter, in their turn, carry their plundering expeditions across to the Campos Parexis, on the headwaters of the Amazon, whence stretches the independent territory, far and wide to the Amazon itself; thence to the Orinoco, and across theLlanosto the shores of the Maracaibo Gulf—the free range of the independent Goajiros.
This immense belt of territory, then, is in actual possession of the aborigines. Although occupied at a few points by the white race,—Spanish and Portuguese,—the occupation scarce deserves the name. The settlements are sparse and ratherretrogradethanprogressive. The Indian ranges through and around them, wherever and whenever his inclination leads him; and only when some humiliating treaty has secured him a temporary respite from hostilities does the colonist enjoy tranquillity. At other times he lives in continual dread, scarce daring to trust himself beyond the immediate vicinity of his house or village, both of which he has been under the necessity of fortifying.
It is true that at one period of South-American history things were not quite so bad. When the Spanish nation was at the zenith of its power a different condition existed; but even then, in the territory indicated, there were large tracts circumstanced just as at the present hour,—tracts which the Spaniards, with all their boasted warlike strength, were unable even toexplore, much less to subdue. One of these was that which forms the subject of our sketch, “El Gran Chaco.”
Of all the tracts of wild territory existing in South America, and known by the different appellations ofPampas, Paramos, Campos Parexis, thePuna, thePajonal, Llanos, andMontanas, there is none possessed of a greater interest than that ofEl Gran Chaco,—perhaps not one that equals it in this respect. It is interesting, not only from having a peculiar soil, climate, and productions, but quite as much from the character and history of its inhabitants, both of which present us with traits and episodes truly romantic.
The “Gran Chaco” is 200,000 square miles in extent, or twice the size of the British Isles. Its eastern boundary is well-defined, being the Paraguay river, and its continuation the Parana, down to the point where the latter receives one of its great western tributaries, the Salado; and this last is usually regarded as the southern and western boundary of the Chaco. Northward its limits are scarcely so definite; though the highlands of Bolivia and the old missionary province of Chiquitos, forming the water-shed between the rivers of the La Plata and the Amazonian basins—may be geographically regarded as the termination of the Chaco in that direction. North and south it extends through eleven degrees of latitude; east and west it is of unequal breadth,—sometimes expanding, sometimes contracting, according to the ability of the white settlers along it borders to maintain their frontier. On its eastern side, as already stated, the frontier is definite, and terminates on the banks of the Paraguay and Parana. East of this line—coinciding almost with a meridian of longitude—the Indian of the Gran Chaco does not roam, the well-settled province of Corrientes and the dictatorial government of Paraguay presenting a firmer front of resistance; but neither does the colonist of these countries think of crossing to the western bank of the boundary river to form any establishment there. He dares not even set his foot upon the territory of the Chaco. For a thousand miles, up and down, the two races, European and American, hold the opposite banks of this great stream. They gaze across at each other: the one from the portico of his well-built mansion, or perhaps from the street of his town; the other, standing by his humble “toldo,” or mat-covered tent,—more probably, upon the back of his half-wild horse, reined up for a moment on some projecting promontory that commands the view of the river. And thus have these two races gazed at each other for three centuries, with little other intercourse passing between them than that of a deadly hostility.
The surface of the Gran Chaco is throughout of a champaign character. It may be described as a vast plain. It is not, however, a continuation of the Pampas, since the two are separated by a more broken tract of country, in which lie the sierras of Cordova and San Luis, with the Argentine settlements already mentioned. Besides, the two great plains differ essentially in their character, even to a greater extent than do the Pampas themselves from the desert steppes of Patagonia. Only a few of the animal and vegetable productions of the Gran Chaco are identical with those of the Pampas, and its Indian inhabitants are altogether unlike the sanguinary savages of the more southern plain. The Chaco, approaching many degrees nearer to the equator, is more tropical in its character; in fact, the northern portion of it is truly so, lying as it does within the torrid zone, and presenting the aspect of a tropical vegetation. Every inch of the Chaco is within the palm region; but in its northern half these beautiful trees abound in numberless species, yet unknown to the botanist, and forming the characteristic features of the landscape. Some grow in forests of many miles in extent, others only in “clumps,” with open, grass-covered plains between, while still other species mingle their graceful fronds with the leaves and branches of dicotyledonous trees, or clasped in the embrace of luxuriant llianas and parasitical climbers form groves of the most variegated verdure and fantastic outlines. With such groves the whole surface of the Chaco country is enamelled; the intervals between being occupied by plains of rich waving grass, now and then tracts of morass covered with tall and elegant reeds, a few arid spots bristling with singular forms ofalgarobiaandcactus, and, in some places, isolated rocky mounds, of dome or conical shape, rising above the general level of the plains, as if intended to be used as watch-towers for their guardianship and safety.
Such are the landscapes which the Grand Chaco presents to the eye—far different from the bald and uniform monotony exhibited in the aspect of either Prairie or Pampa; far grander and lovelier than either—in point of scenic loveliness, perhaps, unequalled on earth. No wonder, then, that the Indian of South America esteems it as an earthly Elysium; no wonder that the Spaniard dreams of it as such,—though to the Spanish priest and the Spanish soldier it has ever proved more of a Purgatory than a Paradise. Both have entered upon its borders, but neither has been able to dwell within its domain; and the attempts at its conquest, by sword and cross, have been alike unsuccessful,—equally and fatally repulsed, throughout a period of more than three hundred years. At this hour, as at the time of the Peruvian conquest,—as on the day when the ships of Mendoza sailed up the waters of the Parana,—the Gran Chaco is an unconquered country, owned by its aboriginal inhabitants, and by them alone. It is true that it isclaimed, both by Spaniard and Portuguese; and by no less than four separate claimants belonging to these two nationalities. Brazil and Bolivia, Paraguay and the Argentine Confederation, all assert their title to a slice of this earthly paradise; and even quarrel as to how their boundary lines should intersect it!
There is something extremely ludicrous in these claims,—since neither one nor other of the four powers can show the slightest basis for them. Not one of them can pretend to the claim of conquest; and far less can they rest their rights upon the basis of occupation or possession. So far from possessing the land, not one of them dare set foot over its borders; and they are only too well pleased if its present occupants are contented to remain within them. The claim, therefore, of both Spaniard and Portuguese, has no higher title, than that some three hundred and fifty years ago it was given them by the Pope,—a title not less ludicrous than their kissing the Pope’s toe to obtain it!
In the midst of these four conflicting claimants, there appears a fifth, and that is the real owner,—the “red Indian” himself. His claim has “three points of the law” in his favour,—possession,—and perhaps the fourth, too,—the power to keep possession. At all events, he has held it for three hundred years against all odds and all comers; and who knows that he may not hold it for three hundred years more?—only, it is to be hoped, for a different use, and under the influence of a more progressive civilisation.
The Indian, then, is the undoubted lord of the “Gran Chaco.” Let us drop in upon him, and see what sort of an Indian he is, and how he manages this majestic domain.
After having feasted our eyes upon the rich scenery of the land,—upon the verdant plains, mottled with copses of “quebracho” and clumps of theCarandaypalm,—upon landscapes that resemble the most lordly parks, we look around for the mansions and the owners. The mansion is not there, but the owner stands before us.
We are at once struck by his appearance: his person tall, and straight as a reed, his frame muscular, his limbs round and well-proportioned, piercing coal-black eyes, well-formed features, and slightly aquiline nose,—and perhaps we are a little surprised at the light colour of his skin. In this we note a decided peculiarity which distinguishes him from most other tribes of his race. It is not aredIndian we behold, nor yet acopper-colouredsavage; but a man whose complexion is scarce darker than that of the mulatto, and not at all deeper in hue than many a Spaniard of Andalusian descent, who boasts possession of the purest “sangre azul;” not one shade darker than thousands of Portuguese dwelling upon the other side of the Brazilian frontier.
And remember, that it is thetrueskin of the Chaco Indian we have before our view,—and not apaintedone,—for here, almost for the first time, do we encounter the native complexion of the aboriginal, undisfigured by those horrid pigments which in these pages have so often glared before the eyes of our readers.
Of paint, the Chaco Indian scarce knows the use; or, at all events, employs it sparingly, and only at intervals, on very particular and ceremonial occasions. We are spared, therefore, the describing hisescutcheon, and a positive relief it is.
It would be an interesting inquiry to trace out the cause of his thus abstaining from a custom almost universal among his race. Why does he abjure the paint?
Is it because he cannot afford it, or that it is not procurable in his country? No; neither of these can be offered as a reason. The “annotto” bush (Bixa orellana), and the wild-indigo, abound in his territory; and he knows how to extract the colours of both,—for his women do extract them, and use them in dying the yarn of their webs. Other dyewoods—a multitude of others—he could easily obtain; and even the cochineal cactus, with its gaudy vermilion parasite, is indigenous to his land. It cannot be the scarcity of the material that prevents him from employing it,—what then?
The cause is unexplained; but may it not be that this romantic savage, otherwise more highly gifted than the rest of his race, is endowed also with a truer sense of the beautiful and becoming?Quien sabe?
Let it not be understood, however, that he is altogether free from the “taint,”—for hedoespaint sometimes, as already admitted; and it must be remembered, moreover, that the Chaco Indians are not all of one tribe, nor of one community. There are many associations of them scattered over the face of this vast plain, who are not all alike, either in their habits or customs, but, on the contrary, very unlike; who are not even at all times friendly with each other, but occupied with feuds andvendettasof the most deadly description. Some of these tribes paint most frightfully, while others of them go still farther, andscarifytheir faces with the indelibletattoo,—a custom that in America is almost confined to the Indians of the Chaco and a few tribes on the southern tributaries of the Amazon. Happily this custom is on the decline: the men practise it no longer; but, by a singular perversity of taste, it is still universal among the women, and no Chaco belle would be esteemed beautiful without a cross of bluish-black dots upon her forehead, a line of like points extending from the angle of each eye to the ears, with a variety of similar markings upon her cheeks, arms, and bosom. All this is done with the point of a thorn,—the spine of amimosa, or of thecaraguatayaloe; and the dark purple colour is obtained by infusing charcoal into the fresh and bleeding punctures. It is an operation that requires days to complete, and the pain from it is of the most acute and prolonged character, enduring until the poisoned wounds become cicatrised. And yet it is borne without a murmur,—just as people in civilised life bear the painful application of hair-dyes and tweezers.
I need not say that the hair of the Chaco Indian does not need to be dyed,—that is, unless he were to fancy having it of a white, or a red, or yellow colour,—not an uncommon fancy among savages.
His taste, however, does not run that way any more than among civilised dandies, and he is contented with its natural hue, which is that of the raven’s wing. But he is not contented to leave it to its natural growth. Only a portion of it,—that which covers the upper part of his head,—is permitted to retain its full length and flowing glories. For the remainder, he has a peculiartonsureof his own; and the hair immediately over the forehead—and sometimes a stripe running all around above the ears, to the back of the head—is either close shaven with a sharp shell, or plucked entirely out by a pair of horn tweezers of native manufacture. Were it not that the long and luxuriant tresses that still remain,—covering his crown, as with a crest,—the shorn circle would assimilate him to some orders of friars; but, notwithstanding the similarity of tonsure, there is not much resemblance between a Chaco Indian and a brother of the crucifix and cowl.
This mode of “dressing the hair” is not altogether peculiar to the Indian of the Gran Chaco. It is also practised by certain prairie tribes,—the Osage, Pawnee, and two or three others; but all these carry the “razor” a little higher up, leaving a mere patch, or “scalp-lock,” upon the crown.
The Chaco tribes are beardless by nature; and if a few hairs chance to show themselves upon cheek or chin, they are carefully “wed” out. In a like fashion both men and women serve their eyebrows and lashes,—sacrificing these undoubted ornaments, as they say, to a principle of utility, since they allege that they cansee better without them! They laugh at white men, who preserve these appendages, calling them “ostrich-eyed,”—from a resemblance which they perceive between hairy brows and the stiff, hair-like feathers that bristle round the eyes of the rhea, or American ostrich,—a well-known denizen of the Gran Chaco.
The costume of the Chaco Indian is one of exceeding simplicity; and in this again we observe a peculiar trait of his mind. Instead of the tawdry and tinsel ornaments, in which most savages delight to array themselves, he is contented with a single strip of cloth, folded tightly around his loins. It is usually either a piece of white cotton, or of wool woven in a tri-colour of red, white, and blue, and of hues so brilliant, as to produce altogether a pretty effect. The wear of the women scarce differs from that of the men, and the covering of both, scant as it is, is neither inelegant nor immodest. It is well adapted to their mode of life, and to their climate, which is that of an eternal spring. When cold winds sweep over their grassy plains, they seek protection under the folds of a more ample covering, with which they are provided,—a cloak usually made of the soft fur of the “nutria,” or South-American otter, or a robe of the beautiful spotted skin of the jaguar. They wear neither head-dress norchaussure,—neither pendants from the nose, not the hideous lip ornaments seen among other tribes of South America; but many of them pierce the ears; and more especially the women, who split the delicate lobes, and insert into them spiral appendages of rolled palm-leaf, that hang dangling to their very shoulders. It will be observed, therefore, that among the Chaco tribes the women disfigure themselves more than the men, and all, no doubt, in the interest offashion.
It will be seen that the simple dress we have described leaves the limbs and most part of the body bare. To the superficial observer it might be deemed an inelegant costume, and perhaps so it would be among Europeans, or so-called “whites.” The deformed figures of European people—deformed by ages of toil and monarchical serfdom—would ill bear exposure to the light, neither would the tripe-coloured skin, of which they are so commonly conceited. A very different impression is produced by the rich brunette hue,—bronze, if you will,—especially when, as in the case of the Chaco Indian, it covers a body of proper shape, with arms and limbs in symmetrical proportion. Then, and then only, does costly clothing appear superfluous, and the eye at once admits that there is no fashion on earth equal to that of the human form itself.
Above all does it appear graceful on horseback, and almost universally in this attitude does the Chaco Indian exhibit it. Scarce ever may we meet him afoot, but always on the back of his beautiful horse,—the two together presenting the aspect of the Centaur. And probably in the resemblance he approaches nearer to the true ideal of the Grecian myth, than any other horseman in the world; for the Chaco Indians differ not only from other “horse Indians” in their mode of equitation, but also from every other equestrian people. The absurd high-peaked saddles of Tartar and Arab, with their gaudy trappings, are unknown to him,—unknown, too, the ridiculous paraphernalia, half-hiding the horse, in use among Mexicans, South-American Spaniards, and even the Indians of other tribes,—despised by him the plated bits, the embroidered bridles, and the tinkling spurs, so tickling to the vanity of other New-World equestrians. The Chaco horseman needs no such accessories to his elegance. Saddle he has none, or only the slightest patch of jaguar-skin,—spurs and stirrups are alike absent. Naked he sits upon his naked horse, the beautiful curvature of whose form is interrupted by no extraneous trappings,—even the thong that guides him scarce observable from its slightness. Who then can deny his resemblance to the centaur?
Thus mounted, with no other saddle than that described, no bridle but a thin strip of raw hide looped around the lower jaw of his horse, he will gallop wildly over the plain, wheel in graceful curves to avoid the burrows of theviscacha, pass at full speed through the close-standing and often thorny trunks of the palms, or, if need be, stand erect upon the withers of his horse, like a “star rider” of the Hippodrome. In this attitude he looks abroad for his enemies, or the game of which he may be in search; and, thus elevated above surrounding objects, he discovers the ostrich far off upon the plain, the large deer (cervus campestris), and the beautiful spotted roebucks that browse in countless herds upon the grass-covered savannas.
The dwelling of the Chaco Indian is a tent, not covered with skins, but usually with mats woven from the epidermis of young leaves of a palm-tree. It is set up by two long uprights and a ridge-pole, over which the mat is suspended—very much after the fashion of thetente d’abriused by Zouave soldiers. His bed is a hammock, swung between the upright poles, or oftener, between two palm-trees growing near. He only seeks shelter in his tent when it rains, and he prevents its floor getting wet by digging a trench around the outside. He cares little for exposure to the sun; but his wife is more delicate, and usually carries over her head a large bunch ofrheafeathers,à la parasol, which protects her face from the hot scorching beams.
The tent does not stand long in one situation. Ample as is the supply which Nature affords in the wilds of the Chaco, it is not all poured out in any one place. This would be too much convenience, and would result in an evil consequence. The receiver of such a benefit would soon become indolent, from the absence of all necessity for exertion; and not only his health, but his moral nature, would suffer from such abundance.
Fortunately no such fate is likely to befall the Indian of the Chaco. The food upon which he subsists is derived from many varied sources, a few of which only are to be found in any one particular place, and each only at its own season of the year. For instance, upon the dry plains he pursues therheaandviscacha, the jaguar, puma,and partridges; in woods and marshy places the different species of wild hogs (peccaries). On the banks of rivers he encounters the tapir and capivara, and in their waters, fish,utrias, geese, and ducks. In the denser forest-covered tracts he must look for the various kinds of monkeys, which also constitute a portion of his food. When he would gather the legumes, of thealgarobias—of several species—or collects the sugary sap of thecaraguatay, he must visit the tracts where themimosaeandbromeliasalone flourish; and then he employs much of his time in searching for the nests of wild bees, from the honey of which and the seeds of thealgarobiahe distils a pleasant but highly intoxicating drink. To his credit, however, he uses this but sparingly, and only upon grand occasions of ceremony; how different from the bestial chicha-drinking revellers of the Pampas!
These numerous journeys, and the avocations connecting with them, hinder the Chaco Indian from falling into habits of idleness, and preserve his health to a longevity that is remarkable: so much so, that “to live as long as a Chaco Indian,” has become a proverbial expression in the settlements of South America.
The old Styrian monk Dobrizhoffer has chronicled the astounding facts, that among these people a man of eighty is reckoned to be in the prime of manhood; that a hundred years is accounted a common age; and that many of them are still hale and hearty at the age of one hundred and twenty! Allowing for a little exaggeration in the statements of the monk, it is nevertheless certain that the Indians of the Gran Chaco, partly owing to their fine climate, and partly to their mode of life and subsistence, enjoy health and strength to a very old age, and to a degree unknown in less-favoured regions of the world. Of this there is ample and trustworthy testimony.
The food of the Chaco Indian is of a simple character, and he makes no use either of salt or spices. He is usually the owner of a small herd of cattle and a few sheep, which he has obtained by plundering the neighbouring settlements of the Spaniards. It is towards those of the south and west that he generally directs his hostile forays; for he is at peace with the riverine provinces,—Brazilian, Paraguayan, and Correntine.
In these excursions he travels long distances, crossing many a fordless 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. Thepelotais 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 homed 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 theIncas,—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 favour.” One circumstance undoubtedly speaks trumpet-tongued for the Chaco Indian; and that is, he does nottorturehis captives, even whenwhitemen 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 thebolas. 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 torquatusandcollaris) 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 mimosae, called indefinitelyalgarobias, and by the missionary monks known as “Saint 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 isnota 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 favourite 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 thesweetest.
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 civilised, 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 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 phraseology 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 thequebracha, 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-vitae,—in short, a trueguaiacum. 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.
Thelazoandbolasare 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 armour. 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 favourite 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 a house.
On going to war with a hostile tribe of his own kind and colour, 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 neighbours—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.”