WCP380

[1]

Amotape,¹ on the river Chira,² near Payta, Peru.³

Nov. 21. 1863.

My dear Wallace

When your letter⁴ reached me, now a full year ago, I was expecting to start soon for "that undiscovered country, from whose bourne &c."⁵ & was employing all the little strength I had left in preparing for the journey, i.e. in despatching to England the remainder of my collections, & in making disposals ^arrangements for the security of any effects I might leave behind me. That was at Guayaquil,⁶ and on the first of January, when the rains had already set in, I left that city for Piura,⁷ in the almost rainless desert of Sechura,⁸ in Piura Peru. I supposed I was merely going there to die, and those who saw me embark thought the same, but after having been there a few months the dry atmosphere seemed to produce a reaction in my frame, and although I see no hope of ever being able to resume an active life, I am so far recovered that I have travelled hither to visit my countrymen who are cultivating cotton on an extensive scale on this little American Nile, the river Chira.

Many years had elapsed since I had the pleasure of receiving one of your letters. I had written to you twice⁹ without receiving any reply, & I confess I felt rather piqued; but from what you say I sh[oul]d conclude that you had not received either of my letters. I wrote you from Ambato¹⁰ (near Quito) giving some information about subjects mentioned in your last letter — scenery, climate, &c. of the Andes, and I had even the presumption to say something about the distribution of birds. I will get Mr. Clements Markham¹¹ to give you a copy of my "Report on Expedition to procure seeds and plants of Red Bark Tree",¹² published by the East India Gov.[ernmen]t, from which you may get some notion of the aspects of nature in the western roots of the Quiterian Andes;¹³ and if we live to meet again I will show you several photographs of the upper regions of the cordillera [Spanish: mountain range].

I sincerely congratulate you on your safe return from your arduous eastern expedition,¹⁴ and on its satisfactory results to your fame & pocket. I suppose you may have amassed materials for working on during the remainder of your life. I have had the pleasure of reading in the Linnaean [sic] Journal some interesting & well-reasoned papers of yours on the distribution of animals in the Malay Archipelago,¹⁵ &c. From one of those papers, and from newspaper reviews, I have derived all the knowledge I possess of Darwin's doctrine of the Origin of Species.¹⁶ I have never read his famous work¹⁷ — poor benighted South-American savage that I am! A copy of a French translation¹⁸ of it reached Guayaquil towards the end of last year, but I was then too ill & weak to read anything more serious than newspapers and novels. If you recollect our conversations at Saõ Gabriel,¹⁹ you will understand that I have never believed in the existence of any permanent limits — generic or specific — in the groups of organic beings. From what I can gather of the scope of Darwin's work I think I should push the doctrine even farther than he has done. — He wrote to me lately²⁰ requesting me to observe the agency of insects in the fertilization of the Melastomaceae²¹ [sic]. Would you believe it — I have not for 3 years seen a single Melastomaceae [sic] — and that, although so abundant in the Atlantic plains, there is not a single plant of that family in the Pacific plains of S.[outh] America, until reaching the first undulations of the Andes! I gather from Mr. Darwin's letter that, whilst his great ancestor²² bestowed his attention on the legitimate loves of the plants,²³ he himself is amusing himself with their illegitimate amours.

[2] ²⁴I have neither space nor strength to go fully into my Andine wanderings. You received my letter from Tarapoto²⁵ (in the Eastern or Maynensian Andes of Peru) — by far the most charming place I have been in S.[outh] America. So long as I remained there my health held out pretty well, but it received a rude shock in my disastrous journey thence to Baños²⁵ in Ecuador — along the rivers Pastasa²⁶ [Pastaza] & Bobonaça²⁷ [Bobonaza], & through the Forest of Canelos.²⁸ I had not a grey hair in my beard when I left Tarapoto, but by the time I reached Baños I had several; and the wonder is that my hair did not turn entirely grey, like that of Madame Godin des Odonnais,²⁹ whose sufferings in the same savage region you will find narrated in the appendix to Lacondamine's³⁰ "Voyage dans La Rivière des Amazones".³¹ When I afterwards got out to the high regions I began to suffer, as all narrow-chested persons do who go thither from the plains, from derangement of the circulating & respiratory apparatus, caused more by the excessive rarefaction than by the coldness of the atmosphere. At Quito³² I was laid up by a heart-attack, & there has ever since been some disturbance of that organ — mostly[?] functional, I believe, but at times sufficiently distressing. I fell, too, on evil times — a revolution broke out³³ and I had to endure two whole years of it. True my personal safety was rarely endangered, but my movements were sadly cramped. As there was little novelty on the snowy ranges, my desires pointed to the wooded slopes, far away from civilized habitations; but I could not go thither & leave my books, instruments & collections to the mercy of revolutionary bandits, nor could I have hoped to keep up my communication with the towns of the interior ^sierra, from which I should have to draw many of the necessaries of life. ³⁴However, without going far away from my household gods, I found plenty to do among cryptogamic plants, especially mosses, and I worked at them eagerly; but I was imprudent in going about wet all day, especially as to the feet, in the same way as I had done (with comparative impunity) in the hot region. After a while I began to feel excessive fatigue from riding and walking about for days together, & I when I remained in the house a day or two I experienced a sort of sinking, worse than any positive pain or fatigue. I did not understand these warnings that the nervous system was giving way, or the necessity for allowing myself complete repose until it could resume its pristine force and elasticity. So I went on until I was struck down by paralysis, in April, 1860; and although after a while I got to be able to drag myself about again I have never from that day to this recovered my former agility, but have been weighed down by a general torpidity of both nerves and muscles, difficult to explain ^describe; but if you call recal[l] the feeling of ^{that follows the} having gone about all day in wet clothes & having had to sleep in the same, you may have some idea of what I have felt for full three years, without a day's ^relief [1 word struck through, illeg.]; to say nothing of frequent acute rheumatic pains, derangement of secretions & excretions, &c. In April last I first experienced a little relief from those symptoms, & though I am still bastante int inutilisado [Portuguese: quite indisposed] life is no longer such a burden to me as it was. I can however even yet rarely sit up to a table to do anything, but mostly eat and write (as I am now doing) in my hammock. Adieu [French: goodbye] then to all working at the microscope, & employing myself on [3 words struck through, illeg.] those mosses which I had gathered so assiduously, ^& to elucidate which I had fondly looked forward to as the magnum opus of my life.³⁵

To collect insects by means of native collectors, as you recommend, it would be necessary to live at or near localities where insects are to be found. At Guayaquil, & for a long way into the interior, insects are scarce, & [3 words crossed out, illeg.] they are mostly of common or insignificant species. It is not as at Para,³⁶ [3] where the year is divided between a rainy and a showery season, but at Guayaquil there is a decided dry season, of 7 months, when the ground becomes baked & cracked, & the leaves fall off most of the trees. Even in the rainy season, there are very few beetles and butterflies. But if there were plenty of objects to collect, who is to collect them? The negros of and zambos³⁷ of Guayaquil are now ciudadanos libres [Spanish: free citizens] & work as seldom and as little as they can help. Often you cannot find a man to take a parcel up from the mole³⁸ to your hotel for less than a dollar, though the distance may not be more than 200 yards. Then the hire of boats is excessively dear. I have thrice paid 15 dollars for a boat and two men to Daule,³⁹ though the distance is only a tide and a half, or about 9 hours rowing. On the slopes of the cordillera the case is different — there is plenty to collect, and Indians from the highlands can often be got to collect; but then there are no towns, or even permanent habitations, & the climate is unhealthy, where all is damp & fog, so that the most robust suffer from rheumatisms, slow fevers, agues, &c.; and for myself, whose only chance of life seems to be the going no more into wet woods, exposure to such adverse influences is out of the question. — The butterflies I sent to Stevens⁴⁰ were obtained in the western roots of Chimborazo⁴¹ at about 3, to 4,000 ft., and ^they were certainly abundant in the (so-called) dry season; but beetles were scarce at that time, & from what I could learn I suspect they were so all the year round. Where I have seen most beetles is in the Forest of Canelos, in the height of the rainy season — I have in fact nowhere seen anything to equal their abundance — they are ⁴²continually ^alighting flying upon you, & sometimes keep you unpleasantly occupied in picking them out of your hair & garments. Butterflies were exceedingly numerous and of beautiful forms at Tarapoto, but unfortunately I did not collect them there, & had in fact no net at that time.

An active young plant-collector, Richard Pierce⁴³[sic], was at Canelos last year, & I heard that he had obtained several insects, which have doubtless found their way to London. A zoologist, Louis Fraser,⁴⁴ made good collections on the western side of the Quiterian Andes, chiefly at about 5000 feet elevation — I suppose you may have seen some of them.

The river Chira, on whose banks I write, is a stream of sufficient volume to breed store of alligators, but too rapid and too much beset by sandbanks to be navigable. It traverses a narrow valley, bounded by alluvial cliffs, & the luxuriant vegetation that fills the valley looks all the more striking from the naked desert which extends on either side to the limits of vision. But it almost the only native tree in the valley is the Algarribo [sic] (Prosopis herrida),⁴⁵ and its numerous minute flowers, though they attract multitudes of small flies & minute beetles, nourish scarcely any oth butterfly. Yet the abundance of birds in this region is notable, and they are chiefly insectivorous, — creepers, flycatchers, woodpeckers, &c. ⁴⁶You & I have been struck with the ease with which wild animals are domesticated on the Amazon, but it is still more striking here, and the confidence of birds (especially) in man, has to me something affecting in it. Every house has one or more of these feathered guests, which generally hop about as they wish[?] all day, & only betake themselves to their cages at night. Fancy little birds no bigger than canaries flying out in the street for an hour or two each day, but returning regularly to their owner's house to refresh themselves in the bath (a plate with water) that awaits them. I have never kept a bird in my life, but for the last fortnight I have had under my charge a little bird (called a Chiróea⁴⁷) left by [4] a lady who has gone on a visit to Piura. It is not unlike a goldfinch in its colours & song, but is a still more delicate & fragile creature. As I write, it hops over the table & inspects my writing-materials, or sits on my shoulder & pecks at my ear; but if I light a paper cigar it will probably take it out of my mouth, fly off with it, open it and scatter the tobacco to the winds, thus exhibiting an anti-nicotian propensity in which (as you know) I formerly participated. Another interesting and rather larger bird is the Sóña,⁴⁸ which I w[oul]d describe as a thrush's body with a magpie's tail, both uniformly speckled with grey and white. A Soña which was kept in a house where I lived at Piura, had learnt to imitate several tunes, & could even pronounce some words. When the doors were opened in the early morning, it used to enter all the rooms and peck gently at the face of the sleepers until it succeeded in awakening them. On the desert itself lives (i'[n] faith I know not how) the Huerequéque⁴⁹ — perhaps a sort of snipe; but with legs so long and slim as I have never seen supporting so small a body, & ^{it runs} with so short and rapid a step that they are ^become almost invisible. When domesticated, it is customary to fasten a small bell to one leg; and the continual & lively tinkling kept up by the bird as it runs about is in strange contrast to its plaintive cry, which reminds me a little of the grey plover. — Excuse this wonderful outburst of ornithology on my part, and now revenons à nos moutons [French: back on topic].

⁵⁰Dread of the cold winters of England is the only thing that has kept me so long in S.[outh] America. No "moça [Portuguese: girl] of the mountains" has ever held me, as you seem to suppose. My English prejudices have always prevented me from taking to myself any female companion, as is the custom of the country. When on the Uaupés,⁵¹ your friend Bernardo of Urubuquara⁵² offered me either of his two pretty (and I verily believe honest) daughters. I have since thought that I did wrong not to accept his offer, as with his powerful aid I might no doubt have made a most extensive exploration of that interesting region. — At Tarapoto I might have married the only daughter of the subprefect of the province,⁵³ and have stept at once into sugar-mills and other "fixings", which would have left me quite at ease as to my future prospects. But I should have had to lay aside botany for perhaps a couple of years, & I did not like to be considered a renegade (even momentarily) from the objects of my early adoration, although prudence dictated to me to remain at Tarapoto. Sir W[illia]m Hooker⁵⁴ twice recommended me to get to ground which had not already been explored by Mathews⁵⁵ or Pöppig,⁵⁶ and the repetition of that recommendation decided me to remove to the eastern Andes of Quito. Fool that I was, to think that my devotion to botany w[oul]d ever be appreciated, as the sequel has shown. — Until very lately it was not possible to prepay a letter to Europe from the Pacific coast of America. Above 2 years ago I had to write to Sir W[illia]m Hooker, partly respecting a job I had had of getting Cinchona⁵⁷ plants & seeds for the India Gov[ernmen]t, & I enclosed other 3 letters in Sir W[illia]m^'s and gave the packet to the Brit.[ish] Consul at Guayaquil to be sent in his Foreign Office parcel. Instead of being so sent, it went as an ordinary letter, which cost Sir W[illia]m 8 shillings. If he had recovered that amount from funds I had in Mr. Bentham's⁵⁸ hands, I w[oul]d have been well content; but instead of that he recovered postage from each of the persons to whom I had enclosed letters in his, and then wrote me a long letter filled with ungenerous taunts and insults. I felt I had not deserved such treatment — no doubt a stronger man would have done much more than I have in so many years, but I suppose few collectors have shown the same disinterested constancy. I only regret that he did not write me that letter several years earlier — [5] my fate would assuredly have been different — and I might not have had (as I have now) to pass my last days in poverty, sickness and neglect.

I have taken that letter (perhaps unjustly) as a type of the sympathy I might expect were I to return to England, and it has given me additional motive for resolving to remain and die in this country; but latterly, when I have rallied a little, I have thought it possible I might linger on for some years in this helpless state — "my occupation gone" — and that I had perhaps better after all return to England, where (as far as the mere necessaries of life are concerned) I could live for one-third of what I can here; for, since there has been so much gold, silver & guano⁵⁹ obtained along this coast ^{everything else} [2 words crossed out, illeg.] have [sic] become excessively dear. And altho'[ugh] the first winter in England might kill me, I should have the satisfaction of knowing that I was leaving my MSS. [manuscripts] &c where they c[oul]d be made available; for the effects of foreigners who die in this country are rarely recovered by their relatives in Europe. I ought soon to make up my mind, & if I do go to England, I suppose I shall start from Payta about May. If I live to arrive there, I need not say what a great pleasure it will be to meet again an old friend and fellow-traveller like you. (When I first went so far across the Andes as to be able to look down on the plains at their western foot, & towards the pacific ocean, I used to climb every evening a hill whence I could have an unobstructed view in that direction; there I used to sit down, and, straining my mind's eye, could fancy I saw my friend Alfredo turning out of his bamboo hut in the early morning, rubbing his eyes, and quaffing his coffee and buffalo's milk, in the sunny Indian isles, exactly at my — antipodes.) — But I do not suppose I shall take up my abode in or near London. Most likely I shall bury myself down in Yorkshire, awaiting the day when other people will bury me deeper down. I trust however to see you long enough to be able to compare my notions on equinoctial climates, &c. with your own. ⁶⁰But I cannot bear to converse long together, & I am a slow thinker, not at all cut out for offhand discussion, so that, on any matter requiring thought, I must turn it over & over by myself before I can talk about it; [1 word crossed out, illeg.] and most probably on that account I should be a bore to learned society, & purely learned society a bore to me.

By the bye have you, acting on the principal of Natural Selection, yet taken unto yourself "a Signorina [Italian: unmarried woman], to take care of the tea, shirt-buttons &c." as you once hinted to me you proposed doing? Recollect "There is a tide in the affairs &c." and though yours cannot now be "taken at the full"⁶¹, it may still be taken ere it ebbs out completely.

The copy of your 'Palms of the Amazon',⁶² you kindly sent me, was stolen from me at the Barra,⁶³ shortly after I received it, to my very great regret. I got out from England a copy of your 'Travels',⁶⁴ and have read it with great pleasure over & over again. I can hardly hope to live to publish a connected account of my own wanderings, but I hope to leave my MSS [manuscripts] in such a state that some one else may do it.⁶⁵

I have written this letter à plusieurs reprises [French: many times], & it is now Nov. 26th. Write to me "Care of Alex. Blacker Esq.[uire] H.[is]B.[ritannic]M.[ajesty]'s Vice-Consul. Payta. Peru". Wishing you all health and happiness, | I am ever sincerely yours, | Richard Spruce. [signature]

P.S. On returning to the coast a month ago I learnt, to my great satisfaction, that it was now possible to prepay a letter to England. Had it been otherwise, I should hardly have written you this letter. — Be kind enough to deliver the enclosed.