Notes of a naturalist in South America

A SEA OF MIST.

The beautiful effects displayed in the gradual disappearance of mist as seen from a height in early morning must be familiar to every genuine mountaineer, and may be enjoyed amongst the hills of the British Islands. Among my own recollections, a certain morning, when I stood alone at sunrise on the highest peak of the Pilatus, near Lucerne, showed the phenomenon in a most striking way, accompanied as it was by the coloured halo that surrounds the shadow of the observer thrown on the cloud-stratum below. But in my previous experience the disappearance of the mist was always accompanied by the upward movement of some portions of the mass. The surface appears to heave under the action of force acting from below, and some masses are generally carried up so as temporarily to envelope the observer. In the view over the Bay of Rio I was much farther away from the surface of the mist than in previous experiences of the kind, and I may have been misled by distance from the scene of action, but, though watching attentively, I saw no appearance of heaving of the surface or any break in its regular form. The waste seemed to proceed altogether from the upper surface, and the emergence of the prominent objects in regular succession gave direct evidence to that effect.

During the first five days of my visit the weather at Petropolis was perfectly enjoyable. The temperature varied from about 60° Fahr. at sunrise to about 70° in the afternoon; but the effect of radiation must have been intense, as in an exposed situation a minimum thermometer descended on one night to 46°, and on the next to 44°, and the dew was heavier than I have ever seen it elsewhere, so that in some places the quantity fallen from the leaves of the trees made the ground perfectly wet in the morning. The barometer varied very little, even after the weather changed, and stood as nearly as possible three inches lower than at Rio, showing a difference of level of about 2900 feet. On the 16th of July the sky became overcast, and some rain fell in the afternoon, the thermometer rising at two p.m. to 73° Fahr., and moderate rain fell on each succeeding day until the evening of the 19th, but scarcely any movement of the air was perceptible. There is a remarkable difference in the distribution of rainfall between the part of Brazil lying within about fifteen degrees of the equator and the region south of that limit. At Pernambuco (south lat. 8° 4′), out of an annual rainfall of about a hundred and ten inches, nearly ninety inches fall during the six months from March to August, and at Bahia, with less total rainfall, the proportion is nearly the same. But at Rio Janeiro the rainy season falls in summer, from November to March, and winter is the dry season. Of an annual rainfall of forty-eight and a half inches, only five and a half inches fall in the winter months, June, July, and August, and less than an inch and a half in July. No doubt the amount of rain is greater at a mountain station such as Petropolis, while the proportion falling in the different seasons must be about the same.

THE DEVELOPMENT OF INDOLENCE.

At Petropolis, as well as elsewhere in South America, I was struck by the fact that the children of European parents born in the country speedily acquire the indolent habits of the native population of Spanish or Portuguese origin. The direct influence of climate is doubtless one cause of the change of disposition, but I suspect that the chief share is due to the great difference in the conditions of life which are the indirect results of climate. Where mere existence is so enjoyable, where physical wants are so few and so easily supplied, the chief stimulus to exertion is wanting, and the natural distaste for labour prevails over the hope of gain. A boy will prefer to pick up a few pence by collecting flowers, or roots, or butterflies in the forest near his home, to earning ten times as much by walking to a distance, especially if expected to carry a light weight. On my first visit to Itamariti I took with me a German boy, whom I left in charge of the superfluous horse that I had been advised to take with me. Finding the occupation a bore, and probably fearing that he would have to carry back the portfolio and vasculum that I had taken for plant-collecting, he fastened the bridle to a tree and disappeared, never coming to claim the pay promised for his unaccomplished day’s work.

All delightful times come to an end, and, as I resolved to visit Tijuca before departing from Brazil, I quitted Petropolis on the morning of July 20, and made my return to Rio amid brilliant sunshine, in which the glorious scenery of the bay renewed its indelible impression on my memory. In passing over the tract of low land between Raiz da Serra and the shore, partly overgrown by shrubs or small trees ten or twelve feet in height, I found them covered with masses of large flowers of the most brilliant purple hue, where ten days before not a single flower had been visible. The train halted for half a minute at a solitary half-way house, and I was able to break off a branch from the nearest plant. It belonged, as I suspected, to the family of Melastomaceæ, and is known to botanists as Pleroma granulosum of Don; but one seeing dried specimens in a European herbarium, could form no conception of the gorgeous effect of the masses of rich colour that were here displayed, outshining the splendours of the Indian rhododendrons now familiar to European eyes. I again found the same species at Tijuca; but the soil and situation were, I suppose, less favourable, and the show of bloom was neither so rich nor so abundant.

I was told that the local name of this splendid plant is quaresma, because it flowers in Lent, which in Brazil falls in autumn; but I afterwards ascertained that the same name is given to several other species of Melastomaceæ having brilliant flowers, and it seems improbable that the same species which I found bursting into flower in mid-winter should have also flowered three or four months before. The only remains of fruit that I found were dry, empty capsules that had apparently survived the preceding summer.

THE EMPEROR DOM PEDRO.

Although I reached Rio some time before midday, so many matters required my attention that I found it impossible to return for a fuller visit to the Botanic Garden. Mr. Corbett had kindly offered to present me to the emperor, and, if time had permitted, I should have gladly taken the opportunity of making the personal acquaintance of a sovereign who stands alone among living rulers for the extent and variety of his scientific attainments, and for the active interest he has shown in the progress of natural knowledge. Irrespective of the qualities that appeal to the sympathies of men of science, Dom Pedro is evidently one of the remarkable men of our time. His exceptional energies, physical and mental, are incessantly devoted to every branch of public affairs, and it is said that he has even succeeded in inspiring some of his subjects with a share of his own zeal. But, so far as I could learn, he cannot be said to have achieved popularity. Among indolent and listless people, indefatigable industry produces an unpleasant effect. Improvements may or may not be desirable, but they are certain to give some trouble: it would be far pleasanter to let things remain as they are. Perhaps, whenever the time comes for Brazil to be deprived of the guidance of the present emperor, its people will become sensible of the loss they have sustained.

The steamer of the Royal Mail Company was to depart on July 24, so that no time was to be lost in making my visit to Tijuca. That place lies among the hills north-west of the city, about nine hundred feet above the sea, and the distance is quite inconsiderable; but the arrangements for visitors are inconvenient. A tramway runs over the flat country to the foot of the hill, and from the terminus the remainder of the way is accomplished by carriage or omnibus. But no luggage is taken by the tramway, and this has to be forwarded on the previous day. When I reached the station, about eleven a.m. on the 21st, I had an unpleasant quarter of an hour, during which it appeared that the case containing most of my Petropolis collections was lost or mislaid. At length it was found lying in an outhouse; no omnibus was available, but I soon succeeded in hiring a carriage to convey me to Tijuca.

The country between the city and the lower slopes of the hills is covered with the villas of wealthy natives, many of them large and handsome houses, each surrounded by a garden or pleasure-ground. In these grounds the mango, bread-fruit tree, and others, with large thick leaves giving dense shade, were invariably planted; and here and there palms, of which I thought I could distinguish four or five species, gave to the whole the aspect of completely tropical vegetation. Amidst the mass of trees, it was rarely possible to get a glimpse of the exquisite scenery surrounding Rio on every side, and it was only towards the top of the hill that I gained a view of the bay. Tijuca lies on the farther, or westward, slope, nearly surrounded by forest, and consists of only a few houses, of which the chief is White’s Hotel. As I afterwards learned, Mr. White, who is engaged in business in the city, was in the habit of hospitably entertaining his friends at a spot which naturally attracted frequent visits, and at length judiciously turned his house into an hotel, where a moderate number of guests find charming scenery, comparative coolness in the hot season, and far more of creature-comforts than are to be had in the hotels of Rio.

TREATMENT OF YELLOW FEVER.

Time allowed me no more than a short stroll in the immediate neighbourhood before the hour of dinner, at which I met several intelligent and well-informed gentlemen, and amongst them three English engineers, from whom I received much information as to the country which they have made their home.

Amongst other questions discussed was that, so important to Europeans, regarding the annual visitation of yellow fever and the best method of treatment. I was especially struck by the experiences of the youngest of the party, who had come out from England a few years before to superintend some considerable new works for the drainage of Rio. For two years he lived altogether in the city, constantly requiring to go below, and sometimes remaining for hours in the main sewers. During that time he was never attacked by the fever, and no fatal cases arose among the workmen engaged in the same work. Since its completion this gentleman had been engaged on other works of a more ordinary character, and had habitually slept in the country during the hot season; but, under conditions apparently more favourable, he had been twice stricken by the fever. The first attack, which was probably slight, was at once cut short by a large dose of castor oil and aconite administered by a friend. In the following year he experienced a more serious attack, and had been treated by a doctor of good repute, mainly with tartar emetic. It appears that professors of the healing art in Brazil regulate their charges, not by the amount of time or labour which they give, but by the estimated value of the patient’s life. If he survives, it is considered that the remuneration should be in the nature of salvage – a considerable percentage on the amount of his income. In the present case the young engineer had been required to pay a fee of £180. In some cases, where the doctor’s demand appeared utterly unreasonable, foreigners have attempted to appeal to the tribunals, but it appears that the results of litigation have not encouraged others to resort to the protection of the law.

In answer to my inquiries, most of my informants made light of the difficulties of exploring the interior of Brazil, but they agreed in the opinion that much time must be given by any traveller wishing to break new ground. Even in the more or less fully settled provinces, the spaces to be traversed are so great, and the means of communication so imperfect, that a large margin must be left for unexpected delays. One gentleman, who had travelled far in Goyaz and Matto Grosso, assured me that he had never encountered any difficulty as to provisions. Three articles of European origin are to be found, so he assured me, at every inhabited place in the interior – Huntley and Palmer’s biscuits, French sardines, and Bass’s pale ale.

VEGETATION OF TIJUCA.

July 22 was a day of great enjoyment, devoted to the immediate neighbourhood of Tijuca, where objects of interest were so abundant as to furnish ample occupation for many days. I have said that the place is almost surrounded by the forest which spreads over the adjoining hills. I now learned that less than fifty years before, at a time when coffee-planting in Brazil became a mania, and was counted on as everywhere a certain source of wealth, the aboriginal forest which covered the country was completely cleared, and coffee-planting commenced on the largest scale. Experience soon proved that the conditions either of soil or climate were unfavourable, and after a few years the land was again abandoned to the native vegetation. About thirty-five years had sufficed to produce a new forest, which in other lands might be supposed to be the growth of centuries. The trees averaged from two to three feet in diameter, and many were at least seventy feet in height. One of the largest is locally called ipa; it belongs to the leguminous family, has a trunk nearly quite bare, and the upper branches bore masses of cream-coloured flowers; but, finding it impossible to obtain flower or fruit, I have been unable to identify it. The vegetation here appeared to be even more luxuriant than that of Petropolis, and to indicate a somewhat higher mean temperature. The proportion of tree ferns was decidedly greater, and a good many conspicuous plants not seen there were here abundant. Some of these, such as Bignonia venusta, Allamanda, etc., may have strayed from the gardens; but many more appeared to be certainly indigenous. Of flowering plants the family of Melastomaceæ was decidedly predominant, and within a small area I collected fifteen species, eight of which belonged to the beautiful genus Pleroma. One of these (P. arboreum of Gardner) is a tree growing to a height of forty feet; but the species of this family are more commonly shrubs not exceeding ten or twelve feet in height.

I was unfortunately not acquainted at that time with the observations made near Tijuca by Professor Alexander Agassiz, which appear to him to give evidence of glacial action in this part of Brazil. It would be rash, especially for one who has not been able to examine the deposits referred to, to controvert conclusions resting on such high authority; but I may remark that the evidence is confessedly very imperfect, and that the characteristic striations, either on the live rock or on the transported blocks, which are commonly seen in the theatre of glacial action, have not been observed. I lean to the opinion that the deposits seen near Tijuca are of the same character as those described by M. Liais45 as frequent in Brazil. The crystalline rocks are of very unequal hardness, and while some portions are rapidly disintegrated, the harder parts resist. The disintegrated matter is washed away, and the result is to leave a pile of blocks of unequal dimensions lying in a confused mass.

On the following day, my last in Brazil, one of my new acquaintances was kind enough to guide me on a short excursion in the forest, which enabled me to approach one of the giants of the vegetable kingdom. At the time of the clearing of the aboriginal forest two great trees were spared. One of these had been blown down some years before my visit, and but one now remained. It was easily recognized from a distance, as it presented a great dome of verdure that rose high above the other trees of the forest. The greater part of the way was perfectly easy. A broad track, smooth enough to be passable in a carriage, has been cleared for a distance of many miles over the forest-covered hills.

A GIANT TREE.

Following this amid delightful scenery, we reached a point scarcely two hundred yards distant from the great tree. I had already learned that even two hundred yards in a Brazilian forest are not very easily accomplished, but I was assured that a path had been cut a year or two before which allowed easy access to the foot of the tree. We found the path, but it was soon apparent that it had been neglected during the past season, and in this country a few months suffice to produce a tangle of vegetation not easily traversed.

When at length we effected our object, we found ourselves at the base of a cylindrical column or tower, with very smooth and uniform surface, tapering very slightly up to the lowest branch, which was about eighty feet over our heads. We measured the girth, and found it just twenty-nine feet at five feet from the ground. It is needless to say that I could form no conjecture as to the species, or even the family, to which this giant belongs, as I was quite unable to make out the character of the foliage. While near to it we could form no guess as to the height; but my companion, whose profession made him used to accurate estimates, and who had observed it from many points of view, reckoned the height at between 180 and 200 feet. I had not then seen the giant conifers of western North America, but, excluding the two Sequoias, I have not found any single tree to equal this. In the valleys of the Alleghany Mountains in Tennessee, I have indeed beheld not unworthy rivals. The Liriodendron there sends up a stem more than seven feet in diameter, and frequently exceeds 150 feet in height.

To diminish my regret at quitting this beautiful region, the morning of July 24 broke amid dark clouds and heavy rain, which continued till the afternoon. I had counted on enjoying a few hours in Rio before my departure, but, that being impossible, I went directly from Tijuca to the landing-place, and thence on board the steamer of the Royal Mail Company, which was to take me back to England. This was the Tagus, and I had much pleasure in finding her under the command of Captain Gillies, with whom I had made the voyage from Southampton to Colon. In the afternoon we slowly steamed out of the bay. Its glories were veiled, heavy clouds rested on the Organ Mountains; but the Corcovado and the other nearer summits appeared from time to time, and the last impression was that of fleeting images of beauty the like of which I cannot hope again to behold.

The course for steamers from Rio Janeiro to England is as nearly as possible direct. The coast of Brazil from Rio to Pernambuco runs from south-south-west to north-north-east, in the same direction that leads to Europe; and from the headland of Cabo Frio to the entrance of the English Channel at Ushant, a distance of about 72° of latitude and 38° of longitude, the helm is scarcely varied from the same course. It is somewhat remarkable that in so long a voyage, in which one passes from the Tropic of Capricorn to the region of the variable anti-trade-winds of the northern hemisphere, it not very rarely happens, as I was assured by our experienced captain, that north-north-east winds are encountered throughout the entire distance. This was nearly verified in the present case. For comparatively short periods the wind shifted occasionally to the north and north-west; more rarely, and at brief intervals, light breezes from the south and south-east were experienced; but the north-east and north-north-east winds predominated, even on the Brazilian coast, until we reached the latitude of Lisbon.

WINDS OF THE ATLANTIC.

It is an admitted fact in meteorology, that the trade-winds of the northern are – at least in the Atlantic – stronger than those of the southern hemisphere; but at the winter season of the south, the south-east trade-winds prevail in the equatorial zone, and are not rarely felt as far as eight or even ten degrees north of the equator. But in investigating the extremely complex causes that determine the direction of air currents, and especially those slight movements that make what is called a breeze, it is difficult to trace the separate effect of each agent. The neighbourhood of a coast constantly brings local causes into play, and it may well be that the rapid condensation of large masses of vapour, such as occurs at each heavy fall of rain, may determine temporary currents in the air in directions opposed to the general and ordinary march of the winds. Irrespective, however, of any such local causes, we must bear in mind the general tendency of air currents towards motion of a circular or spiral character. When we meet a breeze blowing in a direction contrary to that which ordinary experience leads us to expect, we must not forget the possibility that it may be a portion of the ordinary current which has formed an eddy. The main facts of meteorology are now well established, but the local deviations may give room for prolonged study.

Although I knew that the delay at both places would be short, I looked forward with much interest to the prospect of landing at Bahia and Pernambuco. The latter place especially is known to be the chief mart for the natural productions of Equatorial America. Skins of animals, birds living and dead, gorgeous butterflies and shells, are easily procurable; and a mere visit to the fish and vegetable markets is sure to make a visitor acquainted with objects of interest. But my expectations were doomed to disappointment.

We reached Bahia on the morning of July 27. The city stands on a point of land north of the entrance to an extensive bay, called by the Portuguese Bahia de Todos Santos, and the proper name of the city is São Salvador; but the concurrent practice of foreigners has established the name now in general use. The steamer lay in the roadstead nearly a mile from the shore, and the heavy boats, carrying some passengers for Europe, moved slowly as they pitched to and fro in the swell of the sea. Just as they came alongside, rain suddenly burst in a torrent from the clouds, which had formed in the course of a few minutes. For the first time in my journey, I regretted the omission to have supplied myself with a waterproof cloak. A thorough wetting in tropical countries usually entails an attack of fever, and for that I was not prepared; so, along with two or three other passengers who wished to go ashore, I remained in the main deck. The rain ceased, and there was an interval of sunshine; but the torrential showers were renewed two or three times before we resumed our voyage in the afternoon.

COAST CLIMATE OF BRAZIL.

I have already noticed the contrast that exists between the winter and summer climate of this part of Brazil and that of Rio and the southern provinces. In the latter the rainy season is in summer, while nearer the equator, although no season can be called dry, the chief rainfall occurs in winter – that is to say, in the season when the sun is farthest from the zenith. While passing through the equatorial zone, when intervals of bright weather alternated with extremely heavy rain, I frequently consulted the barometer, but was unable to trace the slightest connection between atmospheric pressure and rainfall, the slight oscillations observed being due to the diurnal variation everywhere sensible in the tropics.

The temperature on this part of the coast was only moderately warm, varying from 76° to 78° Fahr. on this and the following day, when we called at Maceio, a place of increasing commercial importance. Our stay was so short that no one attempted to go ashore, although the weather was favourable. Several whales were seen both on the 27th and 28th, but I failed to ascertain to what species they belonged.

On the evening of the 28th we experienced a decided rise of temperature; three hours after sunset the thermometer still stood at 81° Fahr., and, with two remarkable intervals, it did not fall below 80° during the following eight days. During that time my attention was often directed to the physiological effects of heat on the human economy, and both my own experience and the conflicting testimony of travellers lead me to conclude that there are many facts not yet satisfactorily explained.

On the enfeebling effect of moist tropical climates there is a general agreement, both as to the fact and the chief cause; but, as I have remarked in a preceding page, the circumstance that this is little or not at all experienced at sea is apparently anomalous. With regard to the direct effect of the sun’s rays on the surface of the body, and especially in the production of sun-stroke, the evidence of scientific travellers is conflicting, and the explanations offered are by no means satisfactory. On the one hand, it is asserted on good authority that in the equatorial zone the direct effect of the sun is far greater than it is in Europe at the same elevation above the horizon. The rapid reddening and blistering of the skin where exposed, and sun-stroke from exposure of the head, are said to be the ordinary effects. Being extremely sensitive to solar heat, I have always carefully protected my head, and have avoided rash experiments. Of the reddening and blistering of the skin I have had very frequent experience in Europe, upon the Alps and other mountains; but I observed none but very slight effects of this kind in the tropics, even with a nearly vertical sun, either on land or while at sea. Dr. Hann46 cites many statements on the subject. In the West Indies cases of sun-stroke are rare, and the inhabitants expose themselves without danger. In nearly all parts of British India, as is too well known, the danger of exposing the head to the sun is notorious, and the same is certainly true of most parts of tropical Africa.