stagnant or actuated by a very feeble current; they are, at least
in the temperate zone, filled with rushes, reeds, and sedge, and
are often bordered by trees, which love to plunge their roots into
the muddy soil. In the tropical zone a large number of marshes are
completely hidden by multitudes of plants or forests of trees,
between the crowded trunks of which the black and stagnant water can
only here and there be seen. Marshes of this kind are inaccessible
to travelers, except where some deep channel, winding in the midst
of the chaos of verdure, allows boats to attempt a passage between
the water-lilies, or under some avenue of great trees with their
long garlands of creepers waving in the shade. Whatever may be the
climate, it would, however, be impossible to draw any distinction,
even the most vague, between lakes and marshes, as the level of these
sheets of water oscillates according to the seasons and years, and
as the greater number of lakes, principally those of the plains,
terminate in shallow bays which are perfect marshes. Some very
important lacustral basins, among others Lake Tchad, one of the
most considerable in all Africa, are entirely surrounded by swamps
and inundated ground, which prohibit access to the lake itself, and
prevent its true dimensions from being known.
In like manner, a portion of the course of many rivers traverses low
regions in which marshes are formed, either temporary or permanent,
the uncertain limits of which change incessantly with the level of
the current. The borders of great water-courses, when left in their
natural state, are the localities in which these marshy reservoirs
principally exist. The most remarkable marshes of this kind are
perhaps those crossed by the Paraguay and several of its tributaries;
they consist of wet prairies and interminable sheets of water, which
stretch away like a sea from one horizon to the other. They have
received the names of Lakes Xarayes, Pantanal, etc. Further south,
certain tributaries of the Parana, the Maloya, the Batel, and the
Sarandi, which cross the State of Corrientes from northeast to
southwest, are nothing but wide marshes, the water of which overflows
slowly across the grass on the imperceptible slope of the territory.
There is, indeed, one of these marshes, the Laguna Bera, which drains
simultaneously into the two great rivers of Parana and Uruguay.
In the same way as the low river-shores are frequently converted into
marshes, vast extents of the seacoasts when but slightly inclined
are also covered over by marshes, which are generally separated from
the main sea by tongues of sand gradually thrown up by the waves.
In these marshes, most of which once formed a part of the sea and
still mark its ancient outline, the water presents the most varied
proportions of saline admixture. These half dried-up bays are rarely
deep enough to allow of large vessels sailing in them, and their
banks are generally overrun by the most luxuriant vegetation. The
shore constantly keeps gaining upon them, and thus tends to the
increase of the mainland.
The coasts which surround the Caribbean Sea and the Gulf of Mexico,
and also the Atlantic shores of North America from the point of
Florida to the mouth of the Chesapeake, are bordered by a very
large number of marine marshes, forming a continued series over
hundreds and thousands of miles in length. In this immense series
of coast-marshes all kinds of vegetation seem to flourish, and
threaten to get the better of the mud and water, and to convert
them into _terra firma_. To the south, upon the shores of Colombia
and Central America, the mangroves and other trees of like species
plunge the terminal points of their aerial roots deep into the mud,
crossing and recrossing in an arch-like form, and retaining all the
débris of plants and animals under the inextricable network of their
natural scaffoldings. The shores of the Gulf of Mexico, in Louisiana,
Georgia, and Florida, are bordered by cypress swamps, or forests of
cypress (_Cupressus disticha_); these strange trees, the roots of
which, entirely buried, throw out above the layer of water which
covers the soil multitudes of little cones, the business of which is
to absorb the air. For millions of acres nearly all the marshy belt
along the seashore is nothing but an immense cypress swamp, with
trees bare of leaves, and fluttering in the wind their long hair-like
fibres of moss. Here and there the trees and muddy soil give place to
bays, lakes, or quaking-meadows, formed by a carpet of grass lying
upon a soil of wet mud, or even upon the hidden water. In Brazil
these buoyant beds of vegetation are frequently met with, and the
significant name of _tremendal_ has been given to them: in Ireland
these are called “quaking-bogs.” The least movement of the traveler
who ventures upon them makes the soil tremble to some yards’ distance.
To the north of Florida, in the Carolinas and Virginia, the belt of
cypress swamps continues; but in consequence of the change of climate
and vegetation, the quaking-meadows are gradually converted into
peat-mosses. The surface of the marsh is incessantly renewed by a
carpet of green vegetation, while below, the dead plants, deprived
of air, carbonize slowly in the moisture which surrounds them: these
are the beds of peat which form upon the ground just as the layers of
coal were formed in previous geological epochs.
On the southern side, the first great peat-bog of a well-defined
character is the “Dismal Swamp,” which extends along the frontiers
of North Carolina and Virginia. This spongy mass of vegetation rises
ten feet above the surrounding land. In the centre, and, so to speak,
upon the summit of the marsh, lies Lake Drummond, the clear water
of which is colored reddish-brown by the tannin of the plants. A
canal, which crosses the Dismal Swamp to connect it with the adjacent
streams, is obliged to make its way along the marsh by means of
locks. To the north of Virginia peat-bogs proper become more and more
numerous; and in Canada, Labrador, etc., they cover vast expanses
of country. All the interior of the island of Newfoundland, inside
the inclosure formed by the forests on the shore, is nothing but
a labyrinth--a great part of which is still unknown--of lakes and
peat-bogs; even on the sides of the hills there are marshes on so
steep an incline that the water from them would disappear and run off
in a stream if it was not stopped by the thick carpet of plants which
it saturates. Many a large peat-bog which may be crossed dry-shod
contains more water than many lakes filling a hollow of the valley
with deep water.
Opposite Newfoundland, on the other side of the Atlantic, Ireland
is hardly less remarkable for the enormous development of its
peat-mosses or bogs. These tracts of saturated vegetation, in
which _Sphagnum palustre_ predominates, comprehend nearly two and
a half millions of acres--the seventh part of the whole island.
The inhabitants continue to extract from them, every year, immense
quantities of fuel. The spaces left by the spade in the vegetable
mass are gradually filled up again by new layers. After a certain
number of years, which vary according to the abundance of rain, the
depth of the bed of water, the force of vegetation, and the slope of
the soil, the turf “quarry” is formed anew. In Ireland it generally
takes about ten years to entirely fill up again the trenches,
measuring from nine to thirteen feet in depth, which are made in the
bogs on the plains, when a fresh digging of turf may be commenced.
In Holland, crops of this fuel may be gathered, on an average, every
thirty years. In other peat-moss districts the period of regeneration
last forty, fifty, and even a hundred years. In France, on the
borders of the Seugne (Charente-Inférieure), it has been ascertained
that ditches five feet deep and nearly seven feet wide are completely
obstructed by vegetation after the lapse of twenty years. As for the
beds of peat which carpet the sides of mountains, they take centuries
to form afresh.
In Ireland, the Low Countries, the north of Germany and Russia, heaps
of trunks of former forest-trees--oaks, beech, alder, and other
trees--are frequently discovered, which by their decay have made way
for the peat-mosses. The _Sphagnum_, too, often takes possession of
ground of which man had previously made himself master, and in many
places roads, remains of buildings, and other vestiges of human labor
are found below the modern bed of vegetation by which they are now
covered. Certain peat-bogs in Denmark and Sweden may be considered,
on account of the curiosities which have been found in them, as
perfect natural museums, in which the relics of the civilization of
ancient nations have been preserved for the _savants_ of our own day.
The air above the peat-mosses of Ireland and other countries in
the world is not often unhealthy, either because the heat is not
sufficient to develop miasma, or else because the vegetation, by
absorbing the water into its spongy mass, impedes the corruption of
the liquid, and produces a considerable quantity of oxygen. Further
south, the peat-mosses, which are intermixed with pools of stagnant
water, and especially marshes properly so-called, generate an impure
air, which spreads fever and death over the surrounding country.
Unless marshes are surrounded with dense forests, which arrest
the dispersion of the gases, the latter exercise a most injurious
influence on the general salubrity of the district; for during dry
weather, a vast area of the bed of the marshes becomes exposed, and
the heaps of organic débris lying on the bottom decompose in the heat
and infect the whole atmosphere. The average of life is much shorter
in all marshy countries than in the adjacent regions which are
invigorated by running water. In Brescia, Poland, in the marshes of
Tuscany, and in the Roman plains, the wan and livid complexion of the
inhabitants, their hollow eyes, and their feverish skin, announce at
first sight the vicinity of some centre of infection. There are some
marshes in the torrid zone where the decomposition of organic remains
goes on with a much greater rapidity than in temperate climates; no
one can venture on the edges of these districts without peril to his
life. As Frœbel ascertained in his journey across Central America,
the miasma is occasionally produced in such abundance that not only
can it be smelt, but a distinct impression of it is left upon the
palate.
LOWLAND PLAINS
--WILLIAM HUGHES
The plateaus and mountain regions of the globe occupy a large
portion of its surface--perhaps more than half of the whole extent
of the land--and their influence over its climate and other natural
conditions affecting mankind is very great. The highlands of the Old
World--fitted by their physical attributes to be the home of pastoral
and nomad races--were among the regions earliest occupied by mankind.
From the banks of the Euphrates and the primeval cities of the
Assyrian plain, the course of the shepherd-warrior--whether directed
to the east or the west--led toward some of the elevated regions
which stretched thence within the same (or nearly the same) degrees
of latitude, and which, at least in a general sense, are under like
conditions of climate. The highlands of Persia and Afghanistan,
in the one direction, of Syria and the Lesser Asia, in the other,
display abundant evidence, both in traditional and monumental
records, of their early occupation by man. From the one, the natural
order of advance leads to the fertile plains of India; from the
other, to the shores of the Mediterranean, whence is easy transit to
the peninsula and islands that lie beyond.
But if the highlands of the earth were early the dwelling-place of
the shepherd-warrior, it was within the adjoining lowland plains and
fertile river basins that the arts of civilization were first called
into being, that towns were built, that population became numerous,
and that systems of social polity were developed. The lowland plains
of Asia and Europe constitute, in the present day, the most populous
regions of the globe, and include by far the more numerous portion
of the human race. The like regions in the New World are fast
filling with inhabitants, as the redundant population of older lands
is directed, in an ever-flowing stream, across the waters of the
Atlantic.
The most important and extensive among the lowland plains of the Old
World are the following:
IN ASIA.--Plain of the Euphrates and Tigris (the ancient Mesopotamia
and Babylonia); Plain of Hindustan, or Northern India; Plain
of China, embracing the northeast part of that country; Plain
of Siberia; Plain of Turkestan. Among lowland regions of less
importance are the plains of Pegu, Siam, and Tonquin, all within the
Indo-Chinese peninsula, or India beyond the Ganges.
IN EUROPE.--The Great Eastern Plain, embracing nearly the whole of
Russia; Plain of Hungary, embracing the middle portion of the valley
of the Danube; Plain of Wallachia and Bulgaria, or the Lower Danube;
Plain of Lombardy, or Northern Italy; Plain of Languedoc, in the
south of France; Plain of Andalusia, in the south of Spain; Plain of
Bohemia, or basin of the Upper Elbe.
The limits and direction of these regions may be traced upon any
ordinary map, by means of their coincidence with the great river
basins of the Eastern Hemisphere. They include the longer slopes
of the land, which are directed toward the north and northwest, as
well as the less extensive low grounds which border the Indian and
Pacific Oceans. The Siberian plain alone comprehends an area equal
to that of Europe, and the rivers by which it is watered are among
the most considerable in the Old World. So vast an area, under
other conditions of climate, might have become the home of populous
nations, the seat of civilization and empire. But its high latitudes,
which involve the rigor of an Arctic sky, condemn a large portion
of Siberia to the condition of a sterile wilderness, and must
prevent even its more favored districts from being other than thinly
inhabited. The dreary swamps and morasses of the _tundras_, which
replace, during the brief summer of those latitudes, the plain of ice
and snow, stretch along the shores of the Arctic Sea through a vast
extent of this widespread region.
Conditions hardly more favorable belong to the extreme northern
portion of the great plain of Europe, the slope of which is directed
toward the White Sea and the Arctic basin. But a large portion of
Eastern Europe is inclined toward a southerly sky, and is watered by
rivers which have their outfall into the Black and Caspian Seas. The
Volga, the longest of European rivers, belongs to the Caspian basin,
the most depressed portion of the entire region.
The southeastern division of the European lowland, and the adjacent
portions of Asia, constitute the region of the _steppes_. These
occupy an immense portion of the empire of Russia, and are among
the most characteristic of the physical features of the Old World.
The steppes are grassy plains--prairies, or meadows, they would be
called in the New World--which occupy a vast belt of the European
and Asiatic continents. They stretch eastward from the banks of
the Dnieper far into the heart of Asia--along the shores of the
Caspian and Aral Seas, and as far as the banks of the great river
Obi. Indeed, in so far as their grassy covering and general level
expanse--among the prime characteristics of the steppe-land--are
concerned, a like region may be said to extend to the eastward
through Central Asia, as far as the Great Wall of China and the
valley of the Amour. This is the “land of grass” of the Mongol
shepherd, the true home of the Tartar nations, whose descendants
yet preserve in their songs the memory of their famous leader
Timour--the Tamerlane of historic record. So vast is the extent of
this grass-covered region, that a mounted horseman, it has been said,
setting out from one of its extremities at the beginning of the year,
and traveling day and night at his utmost speed, would find the
season of spring elapse ere he reached its further limits.
The southwestern portion only of the steppe-land falls within
the limits of Europe. This exhibits an unbroken expanse of level
plain--fatiguing to the eye from its perfect uniformity--dry and
burned up by excessive heat in summer, a pathless expanse of snow
during the opposite season of the year. The steppe is only productive
during the brief time that the thirsty soil is refreshed by the rains
of spring and early summer. Its aspect is then, for a time, glowing
and verdant; grass and wild flowers cover the earth with a carpet of
varied and attractive hues, and the wild cattle and horses luxuriate
in the abundant pasture. In the autumn, when the herbage has become
dry and withered, the steppe sometimes exhibits a vast sheet of
rolling flame, the grass being occasionally fired by accident, at
other times intentionally, for the sake of the young crop which
springs up through the ashes. The illusive phenomena of _mirage_--the
result of atmospheric refraction, engendered by the intense dryness
of the air--are of frequent occurrence in the steppe. Sometimes the
eye is cheated by the semblage of a lake, which vanishes on approach.
In other instances, the traveler over these wild regions appears to
see rising before him, and glittering through the dense mist which
often prevails during the hours of midday heat, the towers and other
buildings of a distant city. Spires, trees, bridges, rivers, all
appear in picturesque combination, only to sink into confusion as
they are approached. When the spot where the city of enchantment
had seemed to stand is actually reached, there is found only the
long, dry grass, waving as elsewhere in the surrounding waste. The
vast accumulation of dry sand on the surface gives rise to another
phenomenon, of frequent occurrence on the steppe, resembling
waterspouts upon the sea, excepting that the column is filled with
dust instead of water. “Suppose the great flat steppe stretched out
beneath the blue sky--nothing visible--no breath of air apparently
stirring--the whole plain an embodiment of sultriness, silence, and
calmness--when gradually rise in the distance six or eight columns of
dust, like inverted cones, two or three hundred feet high, gliding
and gliding along the plain in solemn company; they approach, they
pass, and vanish again in the distance, like huge genii on some
preternatural errand.”
Such is the region over which the semi-nomad tribes of Tartar
shepherds, who constitute a fraction of the vast population of the
Russian Empire, pasture their herds. It is only here, within the
limits of Europe, that the camel is successfully reared. Odessa, the
great outport of southern Russia, stands almost on the edge of the
steppe, and the whirlwinds of dust that pass through its streets, and
constitute, during a portion of the year, one of its chief drawbacks
as a place of residence, furnish obvious evidence of this proximity.
The steppe includes two-thirds of the Crimean peninsula, the extreme
south of which, however, is traversed by a hill-range of considerable
elevation, and exhibits widely different features.
Beyond the Dnieper, the Don, and even the Volga, the same region of
alternate grassy plain and sandy waste stretches far into the Asiatic
continent. To the east and north of the Caspian and the Aral are the
steppes over which roam the hordes of the Khirghiz. The names of
Kara-kum and Kizil-kum, given respectively to the sandy wastes which
extend upon either side of the river Syr, or Jaxartes, are strikingly
indicative of the general character of the tracts to which they are
applied.
Mr. T. W. Atkinson, in his _Travels in Regions on the Upper and Lower
Amour_, thus describes the journey through these wild regions: “For
many miles the sand was hard, like a floor, over which we pushed on
at a rapid pace. After this we found it soft in places, and raised
into thousands of little mounds by the wind. Our horses were now
changed, and in an hour these mounds were passed, when we were again
on a good surface, riding hard.... Hour after hour went by, and our
steeds had been changed a second time.... In our route there was no
change visible--it was still the same plain; there was not so much
as a cloud floating in the air, that, by casting a shadow over the
steppe, could give a slight variation to the scene.... The whole
horizon was swept with my glass, but neither man, animal, nor bird
could be seen.... We rode on for several hours, but there was no
change of scene. One spot was so like another that we seemed to make
no progress.... No landmark was visible, no rock protruded through
the sterile soil; neither thorny shrub nor flowering plant appeared,
to indicate the approach to a habitable region; all around was
‘kizil-kum’ (_red sand_).”
The perfect solitude and unbroken silence of the desert are not less
characteristic than its wearisome monotony of surface. No sound of
bird or animal breaks the solemn stillness which reigns around;
no trees expose their foliage to the influence of the wind. The
course of the traveler is still onward, through the same apparently
interminable waste. “Fourteen hours had passed, and still a desert
was before us. The sun was just sinking below the horizon. The
Kirghiz assured me that two hours more would take us to pastures and
to water.... It had now become quite dark, and the stars were shining
brilliantly in the deep blue vault. My guides altered their course,
going more to the south. On inquiring why they made this change, one
of them pointed to a star, intimating that by that they must direct
their course.
“We traveled onward, sometimes glancing at the planets above, and
then anxiously scanning the gloom around, in the hope of discovering
the fire of some dwelling that would furnish food and water for our
animals. Having ridden on in this manner for many miles, one of our
men stopped suddenly, sprang from his horse, and discovered that we
had reached vegetation. The horses became more lively and increased
their speed, by which the Kirghiz knew that water was not far off.
In less than half an hour they plunged with us into a stream, and
eagerly began to quench their terrible thirst, after their long and
toilsome journey.”
The features above described are those of the steppe region, regarded
as a whole. But this aspect undergoes considerable variation in
particular localities. The Lower Steppes, as those portions of
the great plains which immediately border the Caspian are termed,
exhibit a soil largely impregnated with saline particles, and
contain numerous salt-water lakes. Some of these lakes furnish a
large quantity of salt, derived by means of evaporation. This region
resembles in aspect the dried-up bed of a sea. The Caspian, upon
which it borders, occupies the lowest part of a depression below the
general level of the earth’s surface, its waters being 81 feet lower
than those of the Black Sea. The extent of the Caspian appears to be
gradually diminishing.
The features of the steppe-land, however, are exceptional to the
general characteristics of the European plain, regarded as a
whole. Large portions of its middle and western divisions possess
a rich arable soil, and exhibit annually a waving sea of corn.
The geographical limits of the lowland region are marked, in the
direction of north and south, by the Black Sea and the Arctic Ocean.
The eastwardly portions of this vast level expanse stretch into the
heart of Asia. In the west it reaches the shores of the Baltic, and
is thence prolonged, with narrower dimensions, through northern
Germany and the low flats of Holland, until it subsides beneath the
water of the German Ocean. Throughout this vast extent, tertiary
and recent formations prevail, and the abundant clays, sands, and
gravels give their character to the surface-soil. The plain lying
to the south of the Baltic consists principally of sandy heaths,
and contains, toward the seashore, a vast number of small lakes or
_meers_.