palm oil, part of the cargo of the ship wrecked near Cape Lopez, were
conveyed by the current to Finmarken, and stranded near the North Cape.
Vide Editor’s note in the English translation of “Cosmos,” vol. i. p.
xcvii.]--_Tr._
THE
CATARACTS OF THE ORINOCO.
In the preceding section, which was made the subject of an academical
lecture, I sought to depict those boundless plains which, according
to the varying modification of their natural characters induced by
climatic relations, appear to us sometimes as Deserts devoid of
vegetation, and sometimes as Steppes, or widely-extended grassy plains
or Prairies. In so doing I contrasted the Llanos of the southern part
of the New Continent with the dreadful seas of sand which form the
African Deserts; and these again with the Steppes of Central Asia, the
habitation of world-assailing pastoral nations, who at a former period,
when pressed hitherward from the East, spread barbarism and devastation
over the earth.
If on that occasion, (in 1806,) I ventured to combine widely
distributed portions of the earth’s surface in a single picture of
nature, and to entertain a public assembly with images whose colouring
was in unison with the mournful disposition of our minds at that epoch,
I will now, limiting myself to a narrower circle of phenomena, sketch
the more cheerful picture of river scenery composed of foaming rapids
and rich luxuriant vegetation. I propose to describe in particular
two scenes of nature in the wildernesses of Guiana,--the celebrated
Cataracts of the Orinoco, Atures and Maypures,--which, previous to my
visit, few Europeans had ever seen.
The impression left on our minds by the aspect of nature is frequently
determined, less even by the peculiar character of the strictly
terrestrial portion of the scene, than by the light thrown on mountain
or plain, either by a sky of azure purity, or by one veiled by lowering
clouds; and in the same manner descriptions of nature act upon us
more powerfully or more feebly, according as they are more or less in
harmony with the requirements of our feelings. For it is the inward
mirror of the sensitive mind which reflects the true and living
image of the natural world. All that determines the character of a
landscape,--the outline of the mountains, which, in the far-vanishing
distance, bound the horizon,--the dark shade of the pine forests,--the
sylvan torrent rushing between overhanging cliffs to its fall,--all are
in antecedent mysterious communion with the inner feelings and life of
man.
On this communion rests the nobler portion of the enjoyment which
nature affords. Nowhere does she penetrate us more deeply with the
feeling of her grandeur, nowhere does she speak to us with a more
powerful voice, than in the tropical world, under the “Indian sky,”
as, in the early middle ages, the climate of the torrid zone was
called. If, therefore, I venture again to occupy this Assembly with a
description of those regions, I do so in the hope that the peculiar
charm which belongs to them will not be unfelt. The remembrance of
a distant richly endowed land,--the aspect of a free and vigorous
vegetation,--refreshes and strengthens the mind; in the same manner
as our spirits, when oppressed with the actual present, love to escape
awhile, and to delight themselves with the earlier youthful age of
mankind, and with the manifestations of its simple grandeur.
Favouring winds and currents bear the voyager westward across the
peaceful Ocean arm,[53] which fills the wide valley between the New
Continent and western Africa. Before the American shore rises from the
liquid plain, he hears the tumult of contending, mutually opposing,
and inter-crossing waves. The mariner unacquainted with the region
would surmise the vicinity of shoals, or a wonderful outbreak of fresh
springs in the middle of the ocean,[54] like those in the neighbourhood
of Cuba. On approaching nearer to the granitic coast of Guiana, he
becomes sensible that he has entered the wide embouchure of a mighty
river, which issues forth like a shoreless lake and covers the ocean
around with fresh water. The green, and on the shallows the milk-white,
tint of the fresh water contrasts with the indigo-blue colour of the
sea, and marks with sharp outlines the limits of the river waves.
The name Orinoco, given to the river by its first discoverers, and
which probably originated in some confusion of language, is unknown
in the interior of the country. Nations in a rude state designate by
proper geographical names only such objects as can be confounded with
each other. The Orinoco, the Amazons, and the Magdalena rivers, are
called simply “The River,” or “The Great River,” or “The Great Water;”
whilst those who dwell on their banks distinguish even the smallest
streams by particular names.
The current produced by the Orinoco, between the mainland and the
Island of Trinidad with its asphaltic lake, is so strong, that ships
with all sail set, and with a favourable breeze, can with difficulty
make way against it. This deserted and dreaded part of the sea is
called the Bay of Sadness (Golfo Triste); the entrance forms the
Dragon’s Mouth (Boca del Drago). Here detached cliffs rise like towers
above the foaming floods, and seem still to indicate the ancient site
of a rocky bulwark[55], which, before it was broken by the force of the
current, united the island of Trinidad with the coast of Paria.
The aspect of this region first convinced the great discoverer of the
New World of the existence of an American continent. Familiar with
nature, he inferred that so immense a body of fresh water could only be
collected in a long course, and “that the land which supplied it must
be a continent, not an island.” As, according to Arrian, the companions
of Alexander, after crossing the snow-covered Paropanisus,[56] on
reaching the Indus imagined, from the presence of crocodiles, that
they recognised in that river a branch of the Nile; so Columbus,
unaware of the similarity of physiognomy which characterises the
various productions of the climate of Palms, readily supposed this
new continent to be the eastern coast of the far-projecting continent
of Asia. The mild coolness of the evening air, the ethereal purity of
the starry firmament, the balsamic fragrance of the flowers wafted
to him by the land breeze,--all led him (as Herrara tells us in the
Decades)[57], to deem that he had approached the garden of Eden, the
sacred dwelling-place of the first parents of the human race. The
Orinoco appeared to him to be one of the four rivers descending from
Paradise, to divide and water the earth newly decked with vegetation.
This poetic passage from the journal of Columbus’s voyage, or rather
from a letter written from Hayti, in October 1498, to Ferdinand and
Isabella, has a peculiar psychological interest. It teaches us anew
that the creative imagination of the poet exists in the Discoverer as
in every form of human greatness.
In considering the quantity of water which the Orinoco bears to the
Atlantic, the question arises--Which of the great South American
Rivers,--the Orinoco, the Amazons, or the River Plate,--is the largest?
The question, however, thus put is not a determinate one, the idea of
size in this case not being altogether definite. The River Plate has
the widest embouchure, being 92 geographical miles across; but, like
the British rivers, its length is comparatively small. Even at Buenos
Ayres its depth is already so inconsiderable as to impede navigation.
The Amazons is the longest of all rivers: its course from its origin
in the Lake of Lauricocha to its mouth is 2880 geographical miles. But
its breadth in the province of Jaen de Bracamoros, near the cataract of
Rentama, as measured by me at the foot of the picturesque mountain of
Patachuma, hardly equals that of the Rhine at Mayence.
The Orinoco is narrower at its mouth than either the River Plate or
the Amazons; and its length, according to positions astronomically
determined by me, only amounts to 1120 geographical miles. But, on the
other hand, far in the interior of Guiana, 560 miles from its mouth,
I still found its breadth, when full, 16200 Parisian (17265 Eng.)
feet. The periodical swelling of the river annually raises its level
at this part of its course from 30 to 36 feet above its lowest level.
Sufficient materials for an accurate comparison of the enormous rivers
which intersect the continent of South America are still wanting. For
such a comparison it would be needful to know in each case the profile
of the river-bed, and the velocity of the water, which differs very
greatly in different parts of the same stream.
If, in the Delta enclosed by its variously divided and still unexplored
arms,--in the regularity of its periodical rise and fall--and in
the number and size of its crocodiles,--the Orinoco shews points of
resemblance to the Nile, there is this further analogy between the
two rivers, that after long rushing rapidly through many windings
between wood-fringed shores formed by granitic and syenitic rocks and
mountains, during the remainder of their course they slowly roll their
waters to the sea, between treeless banks, over an almost horizontal
bed. An arm of the Nile (the Green Nile, Bahr-el-Azrek) flows from the
celebrated mountain-lake near Gondar, in the Abyssinian Gojam Alps, to
Syene and Elephantis, through the mountains of Shangalla and Sennaar.
In a similar manner the Orinoco rises on the southern declivity of the
mountain chain which, in the 4th and 5th parallel of North latitude,
extends westward from French Guiana towards the Andes of New Granada.
The sources of the Orinoco[58] have never been visited by any European,
or even by any natives who have been in communication with Europeans.
In ascending the Upper Orinoco in the summer of 1800, we passed the
Mission of Esmeralda, and reached the mouths of the Sodomoni and the
Guapo. Here rises high above the clouds the massive summit of the
Yeonnamari or Duida, a grand and picturesque mountain which presents
to the spectator one of the finest scenes of nature which the tropical
world has to offer. Its altitude, according to my trigonometrical
measurement, is 8278 (8823 Eng.) feet above the level of the sea. The
southern slope of the mountain presents a treeless grassy surface, and
the humid evening air is filled far and wide with the fragrance of the
ripe ananas. The stalks of the pine apples, swelling with rich juice,
rise between the lowly herbs of the meadow, and the golden fruit is
seen shining at a distance from under its leafy crown of bluish-green.
Where mountain springs or rivulets break forth from the turfy covering,
the scene is further adorned by groups of tall fan-palms, whose foliage
never feels the influence of a cool breeze.
On the east of the Duida mountain a dense thicket of wild Cacao groves
begins, and amidst these are found trees of the celebrated Bertholletia
excelsa, the most vigorous of the productions of the tropical world[59].
Here the Indians collect the materials for their blow-pipes, colossal
grass-stalks having joints above 18 feet long from knot to knot.[60]
Some Franciscan monks have penetrated as far as the mouth of the
Chiguire, where the river is already so narrow that the natives have
thrown across it, near the waterfall of the Guaharibes, a suspension
bridge formed of the twining stems of climbing plants. The Guaicas, a
race of comparatively light complexion but of small stature, armed with
poisoned arrows, forbid any farther advance towards the east.
All, therefore, that has been put forward respecting the lake origin of
the Orinoco is fabulous[61]. We seek in vain in nature for the Laguna of
El Dorado, which is still marked in Arrowsmith’s maps as an inland sea
80 geographical miles in length. Has the little reedy lake of Amucu,
from which the Pirara (a branch of the Mahu) flows, given rise to this
fable? But the swamp in which the lake of Amucu is situated is four
degrees of longitude to the east of the district in which the sources
of the Orinoco must be sought.
It was an ancient custom of dogmatising geographers to make all the
larger rivers of the world originate in considerable lakes. To the
lake forming the supposed origin of the Orinoco was transferred the
site of the island of Pumacena, a rock of micaceous slate, the glitter
of which, in the 16th century, played, in the fable of El Dorado, a
memorable, and to deceived humanity often a fatal part. It is the
belief of the natives, that the Magellanic clouds of the southern
hemisphere, and even the fine nebulæ in the constellation of the
ship Argo, are a reflection of the metallic brilliancy of the silver
mountains of the Parime.
The Orinoco is one of those rivers which, after many windings, seem to
return back towards the region in which they took their rise. After
following a westerly and then a northerly course, it runs again to the
east, so that its mouth is almost in the same meridian as its source.
From the Chiguire and the Gehette as far as the Guaviare the Orinoco
flows to the west, as if it would carry its waters to the Pacific.
It is in this part of its course that it sends out towards the south
a remarkable arm, the Cassiquiare, but little known in Europe, which
unites with the Rio Negro, (called by the natives the Guainia), and
offers perhaps the only example of a bifurcation forming in the very
interior of a continent a natural connection between two great rivers
and their basins.
The nature of the ground, and the junction of the Guaviare and Atabapo
with the Orinoco, cause the latter to turn suddenly towards the north.
In the absence of correct geographical knowledge, the Guaviare flowing
in from the west was long regarded as the true origin of the Orinoco.
The doubts raised by an eminent geographer, M. Buache, since 1797, as
to the probability of a connection with the Amazons, have I hope been
entirely refuted by my expedition. In an uninterrupted navigation of
920 geographical miles I passed through the singular network of rivers,
from the Rio Negro, by the Cassiquiare, into the Orinoco; traversing in
this manner the interior of the Continent, from the Brazilian boundary
to the coast of Caraccas.
In the upper portion of the basin of the Orinoco and its tributaries,
between the 3rd and 4th degrees of north latitude, nature has several
times repeated the enigmatical phenomenon of the so-called “black
waters.” The Atabapo, whose banks are adorned with Carolinias
and arborescent Melastomas, and the Temi, Tuamini, and Guainia,
are all rivers of a coffee-brown colour. In the shade of the palm
groves this colour seems almost to pass into ink-black. When placed
in transparent vessels, the water appears of a golden yellow. The
image of the Southern Constellations is reflected with wonderful
clearness in these black streams. Where their waters flow gently,
they afford to the observer, when taking astronomical observations
with reflecting instruments, a most excellent artificial horizon. A
cooler atmosphere, less torment from stinging mosquitoes, greater
salubrity, and the absence of crocodiles (fish, however, are also
wanting), mark the region of these black rivers. They probably owe
their peculiar colour to a solution of carburetted hydrogen, to the
luxuriance of the tropical vegetation, and to the quantity of plants
and herbs on the ground over which they flow. On the western declivity
of the Chimborazo, towards the coast of the Pacific, I remarked that
the flooded waters of the Rio de Guayaquil gradually assumed a golden
yellow or almost coffee-brown colour, when covering the meadows for
some weeks.
In the vicinity of the mouths of the Guaviare and Atabapo grows the
Piriguao,[62] one of the noblest of palm trees, whose smooth and
polished trunk, between 60 and 70 feet high, is adorned with a delicate
flag-like foliage curled at the margins. I know no palm which bears
such large and beautifully coloured fruits. They resemble peaches,
and are tinged with yellow mingled with a roseate crimson. Seventy or
eighty of them form enormous pendulous bunches, of which each tree
annually ripens three. This fine tree might be called the peach palm.
The fleshy fruits are from the luxuriance of vegetation most often
devoid of seeds, and offer to the natives a nutritious farinaceous food
which, like plantains and potatoes, can be prepared in a variety of
ways.
Hitherto, or as far as the mouth of the Guaviare, the Orinoco flows
along the southern declivity of the Sierra de Parime; and from its
southern bank the vast forest-covered plain of the Amazons River
stretches far beyond the equator, even to the 15th degree of south
latitude. When the Orinoco turns suddenly to the north near San
Fernando de Atabapo, it breaks through a part of the mountain chain
along the base of which it had previously flowed; and this is the site
of the great waterfalls of Atures and Maypures. The river bed is here
everywhere hemmed in by colossal masses of rock, and divided as it were
into separate reservoirs by natural dikes.
In front of the entrance of the Meta there stands in the middle of a
mighty whirlpool an isolated cliff, to which the natives have given
the very appropriate name of the “rock of patience;” because when the
waters are low it sometimes costs those who are ascending the river two
days to pass it. Here the Orinoco, eating deep into the land, forms
picturesque rocky bays. Opposite to the Indian mission of Carichana
the traveller is surprised by the singular prospect which presents
itself to his view. His eye is involuntarily riveted on an abrupt
granitic rock, el Mogote de Cocuyza, a cube with vertically precipitous
sides, above 200 feet high and bearing on its upper surface a forest
of trees of rich and varied foliage. Resembling a Cyclopean monument
in its simple grandeur, this mass of rock rises high above the tops of
the surrounding palms, its sharp outlines appearing in strong relief
against the deep azure of the sky, and its summit uplifting high in air
a forest above the forest.
In descending the Orinoco from this point, still within the range
of the Carichana mission, we arrive at the part of the river where
the stream has forced for itself a way through the narrow pass of
Baraguan. Here we recognise everywhere traces of chaotic devastation.
To the north, (towards Uruana and Encaramada), masses of granite of
extraordinarily notched and serrated outline and grotesque aspect shine
with dazzling whiteness high above the thickets from amidst which they
rise.
It is in this region, after receiving the Apure, that the Orinoco
leaves the granitic chain of mountains and flows eastward to the
Atlantic, dividing the impenetrable forests of Guiana from the grassy
plains on which the vault of heaven seems everywhere to rest as on
the horizon of the ocean. Thus the elevated cluster of the Parime
mountains, which occupies the entire space between the sources of the
Jao and the Caura, is surrounded on three sides, to the South, to the
West, and to the North, by the Orinoco. Below Carichana the course of
the river is uninterrupted by rocks or rapids to its mouth, excepting
at the whirlpool of the Boca del Infierno (Hell’s mouth) near Muitaco,
where, however, the rocks which occasion the rapid do not extend across
the entire bed of the river as at Atures and Maypures. In these lower
parts of the river in the vicinity of the sea, the only danger feared
by the boatmen is that of encountering the great natural rafts,
consisting of trees torn from the banks by the swelling of the river,
against which canoes are often wrecked during the night. These rafts,
covered like meadows with flowering water plants, remind the spectator
of the floating gardens of the Mexican lakes.
After this rapid review of the course of the Orinoco, and of its
general relations to the surrounding country, I pass to the description
of the Falls of Maypures and Atures.
Between the sources of the rivers Sipapo and Ventuari a granite ridge
projects from the elevated mountain group of Cunavami, and advances far
to the west towards the mountains of Uniama. Four streams, which may be
said to mark the limits of the cataracts of Maypures, descend from this
ridge; two, the Sipapo and the Sanariapo, on the eastern side of the
Orinoco; and two, the Cameji and the Toparo, on its western side. Near
the Missionary village of Maypures the mountains retire and form a wide
bay open to the south-west.
The foaming stream flows at the present time at the foot of the eastern
mountain declivity, and far to the west we recognise the ancient bank
now forsaken by the water. A grass-covered plain, only about thirty
feet above the present highest level of the river, extends between the
two chains of hills. The Jesuits have built upon it a small church
formed of the trunks of palm trees.
The geological aspect of the district, the shapes of the rocks of Keri
and Oco, which have so much the character of islands, the water-worn
hollows in the first named of these rocks, situated at exactly the same
height as the cavities in the opposite island of Uivitari, all testify
that the Orinoco once filled the whole of this now dry gulf or bay.
Probably the waters formed a wide lake as long as the northern dike
was able to withstand their pressure. When it gave way, the prairie
now inhabited by the Guareke Indians must have been the first part
which appeared above the waters; which may subsequently, perhaps, have
long continued to surround the rocks of Keri and Oco, which rising
like mountain fortresses from the ancient bed of the river, present a
picturesque aspect. As the waters gradually diminished they withdrew
altogether to the foot of the eastern hills, where the river now flows.
This conjecture is confirmed by several circumstances. The Orinoco,
like the Nile near Philæ and Syene, has the property of imparting a
black colour to the reddish white masses of granite which it has bathed
for thousands of years. As far as the waters reach, one may remark on
the rocky shore the leaden-coloured coating described in page 189: its
presence, and the hollows before mentioned, mark the ancient height of
the waters of the Orinoco.
In the rock of Keri, in the islands of the Cataracts, in the gneiss
hills of Cumadaminari above the island of Tomo, and lastly at the mouth
of the Jao, we trace these black-coloured hollows at elevations of
150 to 180 (160 to 192 English) feet above the present height of the
river. Their existence teaches us a fact of which we may also observe
indications in the river beds of Europe; viz. that the streams whose
magnitude now excites our astonishment are only the feeble remains of
the immense masses of water belonging to an earlier age of the world.
These simple remarks and inferences have not escaped even the rude
natives of Guiana. The Indians everywhere called our attention to the
traces of the former height of the waters. There is in a grassy plain
near Uruana an isolated granite rock, on which, according to the report
of trustworthy witnesses, there are at a height of more than eighty
feet drawings of the sun and moon, and of many animals, particularly
crocodiles and boas, engraven or arranged almost in rows or lines.
Without artificial aid it would now be impossible to ascend this
perpendicular precipice, which deserves to be carefully examined by
future travellers. The hieroglyphical rock engravings on the mountains
of Uruana and Encaramada are equally remarkable in respect to situation.