The Story of Ida Pfeiffer. UnknownЧитать онлайн книгу.
villain was captured, securely pinioned, and, as he would not walk, severely beaten, until, as most of the blows fell upon his head, Madame Ida Pfeiffer feared that the wretch’s skull would be broken. Nothing, however, would induce him to walk, and the negroes were compelled to carry him bodily, to the nearest house.
The colony of Petropolis proved to be situated in the depth of a virgin forest, at an elevation of 2500 feet above the sea-level. At the time of Madame Pfeiffer’s visit it was about fourteen months old, having been founded for the special purpose of providing the capital with fruits and vegetables which, in tropical climates, will thrive only in very elevated situations. It was, of course, in a very rudimentary condition, the mere embryo of a town; but the country around it was very picturesque.
Madame Pfeiffer’s second excursion was into the interior; and it opened up to her a variety of interesting scenes,—as, for instance, a manioc-fazenda, or plantation. The manioc plant, it appears, throws off stalks from four to six feet in height, with a number of large leaves at their upper extremities. The valuable portion of the plant is its bulbous root, which frequently weighs two or three pounds, and supplies the place of corn throughout the Brazils. It is washed, peeled, and held against the rough edge of a mill-stone, until it is completely ground into flour. This flour is collected in a basket, steeped thoroughly in water, and afterwards pressed quite dry by means of a press. Lastly, it is scattered upon large iron plates, and slowly dried over a gentle fire. At this stage it resembles a very coarse kind of flour, and is eaten in two ways;—either mixed with hot water, until it forms a kind of porridge; or baked in the form of coarse flour, which is handed round at table in little baskets.
She also saw a coffee plantation. The coffee-trees stand in rows upon tolerably steep hillocks. Their height ranges from six feet to twelve; and they begin to bear sometimes as early as the second, but in no case later than the third year. They are productive for at least ten years. The leaf is long and slightly serrated, and the flower white; while the fruit hangs down like a cluster of grapes, and resembles a large cherry, which varies from green to red, then to brown, and almost black. While red, the outer shell is soft; but eventually it becomes perfectly hard, until it may be compared to a wooden capsule. Blossoms and ripe fruit are found on the same tree at the same time; so that a crop may be gathered at almost any season of the year. After the berries are plucked, they are spread out in spacious areas enclosed by a wall about twelve feet high, with small drains to carry off the rain-water. Here the coffee is allowed to dry in the heat of the sun, and it is then shaken into large stone mortars, where it is lightly pounded with wooden hammers, set in motion by water power. The whole mass falls into wooden boxes attached to a long table, at which sit the negro workers, who separate the coffee from the husk, and put it into flat copper pans. In these it is carefully and skilfully turned about over a slow fire, until desiccation is complete. On the whole, says Madame Ida Pfeiffer, the preparation of the coffee is not laborious, and the harvest much more easily gathered than one of corn. The negro, while plucking the coffee, stands erect, and the tree protects him from the heat of the sun. His only danger is from poisonous snakes, and a sting from one of these is a very rare occurrence.
Another novelty which much impressed our traveller was the sight of the frequent burning forests. These are set on fire in order to clear the ground for cultivation. In most cases she viewed the tremendous spectacle from a distance; but one day she realized it in all its details, as her road lay between a wood in flames on the one hand, and the brushwood, crackling and seething, on the other. The space between the double rows of fire did not exceed fifty paces in breadth, and was completely buried in smoke. The spluttering and hissing of the fire was distinctly audible, and through the dense mass of vapour shot upward thick shafts and tongues of flame, while now and then the large trees crashed to the ground, with loud reports, like those of artillery.
“On seeing my guide enter this fiery gulf,” says our traveller, “I was, I must confess, rather frightened;” and her dread was surely very excusable. She plucked up courage, however, when she saw that her guide pushed forward. On the threshold, so to speak, sat two negroes, to indicate the safe, and, in truth, the only path. The guide, in obedience to their warning, spurred on his mule, and, followed by Madame Pfeiffer, galloped at full speed across the desert of fire. Flames to the right of them, flames to the left of them, onward they dashed, and happily effected the passage in safety.
Madame Pfeiffer gives a bright description of the beauties of the road as she pushed further into the interior. Crossing a small waterfall, she struck right into the depths of the virgin forest, pursuing a narrow path which ran along the bank of a little stream. Palms, with their lordly crests, soared high above the other trees, which, intertwined by inextricable boughs, formed the loveliest fairy-bowers imaginable; every stem, every branch was luxuriously festooned with fantastic orchids; while creepers and ferns glided up the tall, smooth trunks, mingling with the boughs, and hanging in every direction waving curtains of flowers, of the sweetest odours and the most vivid colours. With shrill twittering cry and rapid wings flashed the humming-bird from bough to bough; the pepper-pecker, with glowing plumage, soared timorously upwards; while parrots and paroquets, and innumerable birds of beautiful appearance, added, by their cries and motions, to the liveliness of the scene.
Madame Pfeiffer visited an Indian village. It lay deep in the forest recesses, and consisted of five huts, or rather sheds, formed of leaves, and measuring eighteen feet by twelve feet, erected under lofty trees. The frames were formed of four poles stuck in the ground, with another reaching across; and the roof was wrought of palm-leaves, by no means impervious to the rain. The sides were open. In the interior hung a hammock or two; and on the earth a few roots, Indian corn, and bananas were roasting under a heap of ashes. In one corner, under the roof, a small supply of provisions was hoarded up, and round about were scattered a few gourds; these are used by the Puris as substitutes for “crockery.” Their weapons, the long bows and arrows, leaned against the wall.
Madame Pfeiffer describes the Puri Indians as even uglier than the negroes. Their complexion is a light bronze; they are stunted in stature, well-knit, and about the middle size. Their features are broad and somewhat compressed; their hair is thick, long, and of a coal-black colour. The men wear it hanging straight down; the women, in plaits fastened to the back of the head, and sometimes falling loosely down about their persons. Their forehead is broad and low, and the nose somewhat flattened; the eyes are long and narrow, almost like those of the Chinese; and the mouth is large, with rather thick lips. To enhance the effect of these various charms, the countenance bears a peculiar look of stupidity, which may be attributed perhaps to the way in which the mouth is kept always open. Women, as well as males, are generally tattooed of a reddish or blue colour, round the mouth, moustachio-wise. Both sexes are addicted to smoking, and look upon brandy as the summum bonum of human life.
The Indians, ugly as they were, gave Madame Pfeiffer a hospitable welcome. After an evening meal, in which roasted monkey and parrot were the chief dishes, they performed one of their characteristic dances. A quantity of wood was heaped up into a funeral pile, and set on fire; the men then danced around it in a ring. They threw their bodies from side to side with much awkwardness, but always moving the head forward in a straight line. The women then joined in, forming at a short distance behind the men, and imitating all their movements. A horrible noise arose; this was intended for a song, the singers at the same time distorting their features frightfully. One of them performed on a kind of stringed instrument, made out of the stem of a cabbage-palm, and about two feet, or two feet and a half, in length. A hole was cut in it slantwise, and six fibres of the stem were kept up in an elevated position at each end, by means of a small bridge. The fingers played upon these as upon a guitar, drawing forth a very low, harsh, and disagreeable tone. The dance, thus pleasingly accompanied, was called the Dance of Peace and Joy.
A wilder measure was next undertaken by the men alone. They first equipped themselves with bows, arrows, and stout clubs; then they formed a circle, indulged in the most rapid and fantastic movements, and brandished their clubs as if dealing death to a hundred foes. Suddenly they broke their ranks, strung their bows, placed their arrows ready, and represented all the evolutions of shooting after a flying foe, giving utterance to the most piercing cries, which resounded through