rises not in a highland region, but in the midst of lakes, marshes and
low wooded hills, little elevated above the Volkosniky Les (“Volkon
Forest”) and Valdaï plateau, which may be taken as the true source of
the stream. The highest ridges of the Valdaï scarcely rise 220 feet
above the plateau, although the chief crest, the Popova Gora, attains
an altitude of 1,170 feet. The mean elevation of the land is also
sufficient to give it a far more severe aspect than that of the Lovat
and Lake Ilmen plains on the north-west. Its peat beds, lakes and fir
forests are more suggestive of the neighbourhood of Lake Onega, some
300 miles farther north, and the climate is, in fact, about two degrees
colder than in the surrounding districts. Yet the Valdaï flora differs
on the whole but little, if at all, from that of the plains stretching
towards the great lakes, whence it has been concluded that these
heights are of comparatively recent origin. They have no indigenous
vegetation, all their species coming from the region released from its
icy fetters at the close of the long glacial epoch. The plateau, now
furrowed by rain and frost, formed at that time a continuation of the
uniform slope of the land, and like it, was covered by the ice-fields
from Finland. The fish of its lakes, and even of the Upper Volga
itself, do not belong to the Volga basin proper, which the Valdaï
streams seem to have only recently joined. To judge from their fauna,
the true origin of the Volga should be sought, not in the Valdaï, but
in Lake Belo Ozero (“White Lake”), east of Lagoda. The sturgeon and
sterlet inhabit the Shesksna, the outlet of this lake, as they do in
the middle Volga itself. The region giving birth to the Volga is one of
the swampiest in West Russia, resembling a lowland tract rather than
a true water-parting. Separated by a simple peat bed from a tributary
of the Volkhov, the streamlet rising in the Volgino Verkhovye, and
sometimes called the Jordan from its sacred character, flows from a
spot now marked by the ruins of a chapel, thence oozing rather than
flowing from bog to bog for a distance of about twenty-two miles, when
it successively traverses three terraced lakes, whose levels differ
only a few inches from the other. The Jukopa, one of the southern
affluents, often causes a back flow to Lake Peno near its course, the
natural fall being so slight that the impulse of a lateral current
suffices to reverse it. After leaving Lake Peno, which is close to
Lake Dvinetz, source of the Dvina, the Volga turns eastward to Lake
Volgo, where it is already a considerable stream, with a volume of
from 3,500 to 3,600 cubic feet per second, according to the seasons.
Three miles farther down occurs its first rapid, where a dam has now
been constructed, which during the rains converts the upper valley,
with its lakes, into one vast reservoir forty-eight miles long, over
one mile wide, and containing 6,300,000 cubic feet of water. Boats
and rafts are then able to descend from the lake region, and higher
up the river becomes regularly navigable. Near this point the Volga
is nearly doubled by the Selijarovka from the winding Lake Seligen,
whose insular monastery of St. Nilus is still visited yearly by about
20,000 pilgrims. Here may be said to begin the commercial stream, the
Ra, Rhas, or Rhos of the ancients and of the Mordvinians, the Yûl of
the Cheremissiams, the Atel or Etil of the Tatars, the Tamar of the
Armenians--that is in these languages, the “River”--and in Finnish the
Volga, or the “Holy River.”
[Illustration: THE VOLGA]
Below the Selijarovka it descends the slopes of the plateau through a
series of thirty-five _porogi, or rapids_, which, however, do not stop
the navigation, and beyond the last of the series it winds unimpeded
through the great Russian lowlands, receiving numerous navigable
tributaries, and communicating by canal with the Baltic basin. After
passing the populous towns of Tver, Ribinsk, Yaroslav, and Kostroma,
it is joined at Niji-Novgorod by the Oka, of nearly equal volume, and
historically even more important than the main stream. The Oka, which
long served as the frontier between Tartar and Muscovite, rises in
the region of the “black lands” and throughout a course of 900 miles
waters the most fertile plains of Great Russia, bringing to the Nijni
fair the produce of Orol, Kaluga, Tula, Riazan, Tambov, Vladimir, and
Moscow. Over 1,440 yards broad, it seems like an arm of the sea at
its confluence with the Volga. East of this point the main artery is
swollen by other tributaries, which, though as large as the Seine,
seem insignificant compared with the mighty Kama, joining it below
Kazan from the Urals, and draining an area at least equal in extent
to the whole of France. Judging from the direction of its course, the
Kama seems to be the main stream, for below the junction the united
rivers continue the southerly and south-westerly course of the Kama,
whose clear waters flow for some distance before intermingling with
the grey stream of the Volga. Below Simbirsk the tributaries are few
and unimportant, and as the rainfall is here also slight, and the
evaporation considerable, the mean discharge is probably as great at
this place as at the delta.
Below the Kama junction there formerly existed a vast lacustrine basin,
which has been gradually filled in by the alluvia of both streams. Here
is the natural limit of the peat region, and here begins, on the right
bank, that of the steppes. As we proceed southwards the atmosphere
becomes less humid, the ground firmer, and below Simbirsk we no longer
meet those mossy and wooded quagmires bound together by the tangled
roots of trees, resembling matted cordage. But even in the boggy
districts those floating forests are slowly disappearing as the land is
brought more and more under cultivation.
Below the dried-up Simbirsk Lake the stream is deflected by an
impassable limestone barrier eastwards to Samara, where it escapes
through a breach and reverses its course along the southern escarpment
of the hills, thus forming a long narrow peninsula projecting from
the western plateau. Here is the most picturesque scenery on the
Volga, which is now skirted by steep wooded cliffs, terminating in
pyramids and sharp rocky peaks. Some of the more inaccessible summits
are surmounted by the so-called “Stenka” Kurgans, raised in memory
of Razin, Chief of the Cossacks and revolted peasantry, who had
established themselves in this natural stronghold of the Volga. The
hills often rise more than 300 feet above the stream, the Beliy Kluch,
south-west of Sizran, attaining an absolute elevation of 1,155 feet or
1,120 feet above the mean level of the Volga.
The region of the delta really begins at the Tzaritzin bend, some 300
miles from the Caspian, for the stream here branches into countless
channels between the beds of the Volga and the Akhtuba, known near the
coast as the Bereket. Still the delta, properly so called, is formed
only about thirty miles above Astrakhan, by the forking of the Buzan
branch from the main bed. Near Astrakhan the Belda and Kûtûm, and,
lower down, the Tzarova, Tzagan, Birûl, and other arms, break away, and
in the vast alluvial peninsula projecting into the Caspian, and which
is at least 110 miles round, there are altogether about two hundred
mouths, most of them, however, shifting streams choked with mud. During
the spring floods all the delta and lower courses below Tzaritzin form
one vast body of moving waters, broken only by a few islands here and
there, and after each of these floods new beds are formed, old ones
filled up, so that the chart of the delta has to be constantly planned
afresh. Two hundred years ago the navigable channel flowed due east
from Astrakhan: since then it has shifted continually more to the right
and now runs south-south-west.
Without including the shorter windings, the Volga has a total length
of 2,230 miles, presenting with its tributaries, about 7,200 miles of
navigable waters. From the sources of the Kama to the delta, these
waters cross sixteen parallels of latitude, and nine isothermal
degrees, so that while the mean annual temperature of the region is
at freezing point, it oscillates about 9° in the delta. At Astrakhan
the Volga is frozen for about ninety-eight days, and at Kazan for one
hundred and fifty-two, while the Kama is ice-bound for six months at
the junction of the Chusovaya above Perm. The rainfall of the basin is
about sixteen inches, which would give 700,000 cubic feet per second,
were all the moisture to be carried off by the bed of the Volga. But
much is absorbed by vegetation in the forests and steppes and in the
latter region direct evaporation may dissipate about forty inches
during the year in tracts fully exposed to the winds.
Altogether about three-fourths of the rainfall are thus lost _en
route_, and preliminary estimates have determined the mean discharge at
about 203,000 cubic feet, which is less than two-thirds of that of the
Danube, draining an area scarcely half as large as that of the Russian
River.
The volume of water discharged by the Volga, which is at least equal to
that of all the other influents of the Caspian together, is sufficient
to exercise a considerable influence on the level of the sea. Thus
the floods of 1867, the heaviest that had occurred for forty years,
raised it by more than two feet, the abnormal excess representing 9,600
billions of cubic feet, or about three times the volume of the Lake
of Geneva. On the other hand, the delta steadily encroaches on the
sea, though at a rate which it is almost impossible to determine. The
sedimentary matter held in solution, estimated by Mrczkovski at about
the two-thousandth part of the fluid, continues to form islands and
sand-banks, while generally raising the bed of the sea round the face
of the delta.
The Volga abounds in fish, and the fishing industry supports a large
number of hands. Its lower reaches especially form for the whole of
Russia a vast reservoir of food, varying with the seasons, and yielding
large quantities even in winter by means of holes broken in the ice at
certain intervals.
On the islands of the delta are numerous stations where the fish is cut
up, and the roe prepared to be converted into fresh and salt caviar.
The _bieluga_ and the sterlet, both of the sturgeon family, attain
the greatest size, and are the most highly esteemed, but their number
seems to have diminished since the appearance of the steamboat in these
waters.
THE CONGO
J. HOWARD REED
The Congo is not only the largest river of the “Dark Continent,” but is
second only in point of size and volume to the majestic Amazon of South
America. It may, therefore, truly be called the largest river of the
Old World.
On referring to the latest maps of Africa we find that the most distant
source of the Congo is to be found in the River Chambeze, which rises
about midway between the south end of Lake Tanganyika and the north end
of Lake Nyasa, at a height of 4,750 feet above the level of the sea.
Taking a south-westerly course, this stream flows for some 250 miles,
until it reaches a huge depression, where it forms a lake, known to
the natives by the name Bangweolo. This lake is about 115 miles long
by from forty to sixty miles wide, with an area of from 6,000 to 7,000
square miles. At the south-west corner of Bangweolo the river emerges,
having a width equal to that of the Thames at London Bridge, and flows
northward under the name of Luapula. About 200 miles further to the
north Lake Moero, with an area of about 3,500 square miles, is reached.
From the north end of this lake the river again issues, flowing away
generally in a northward direction.
At a point about 200 miles from Lake Moero the river, known from the
lake to this point as the Luwa, is joined by another stream of much
larger size, which rises some 500 miles to the south-west, and is known
as the Lualaba. Both these branches of the main river, from their
sources to this point, have, of course, had their volumes greatly
increased by the innumerable tributary streams flowing into them from
the hills and highlands on either side. The two great rivers are now
united into one majestic stream, which, bearing the name of Lualaba,
continues its flow in a north-north-westerly direction. A little above
the point of junction the river receives, on its eastern side, the
Lukuga River, which drains the surplus waters of Lake Tanganyika and
its tributaries, and augments the mighty volume of the main river.
When we remember that Lake Tanganyika is 400 miles long, from twenty to
forty miles broad, has an area of 12,650 square miles, and is fed by
tributaries which drain about 70,000 square miles of country, we can
form some idea of the enormous body of water which is added to the main
stream by the Lukuga River.
About 100 miles to the north of where the Lukuga joins the Lualaba,
namely, at the Arab settlement of Nyangwe, the main river is more
than a mile wide, with a volume and velocity, according to Stanley,
of 230,000 cubit feet of water per second. About 300 miles to the
north of Nyangwe are to be found the Stanley Falls, where the river,
augmented by the discharged waters of a number of important tributary
streams, dashes itself madly down a series of wild rapids and
terrible cataracts. These falls extend for a distance of from sixty
to seventy miles. From this point the majestic river begins to turn
slightly to the westward, and, continuing its course first north-west,
then west, and finally south-west--in the form of a gigantic
horseshoe--reaches, after a thousand miles’ uninterrupted flow,
the open expanse of Stanley Pool. Between Stanley Falls and Stanley
Pool the volume of the great river is still further increased by the
addition of the waters of a great number of large tributary streams,
many of which are themselves extensive rivers, draining many thousands
of square miles of territory, and navigable for several hundred miles.
[Illustration: COPYRIGHT BY UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD, N. Y. THE CONGO]
Among the great tributaries should be mentioned specially the
following; the Aruwimi, noted as the scene of the terrible
sufferings of the famous Emin Pasha relief expedition; the Ubangi,
or Welle-Makua, which is itself a mighty river, rising away in the
“Heart of Africa,” and flowing some 1,200 miles before it joins the
main stream. On the south bank may be named the Lubilash or Boloko,
navigable for 200 miles; the Lulongo, with its branches--the Lopori
and Maringa--navigated for 500 miles by the Rev. George Grenfell; the
Chuapa, with its branch, the Busera, up which Mr. Grenfell has also
steamed some 500 miles. To these may be added the Kwa, which with its
tributaries--the Lukenye, the Kasai, the Sankurn, the Kwango, and a
number of others--adds enormously to the volume of the Congo, and
affords some 1,500 miles of navigable water.
The great river from Stanley Falls to Stanley Pool has an average
width of some five miles, but in places it reaches as much as sixteen
miles wide, and is split up into separate channels by large islands,
with which its bosom is studded. After passing through Stanley Pool
the river ceases to be navigable for about 235 miles--except for one
comparatively short break of eighty miles--owing to the angry cataracts
known as the Livingstone Falls. Below the falls the river again
becomes navigable to the Atlantic Ocean, some 110 miles distant.
The majestic river rushes with such an enormous volume into the open
ocean that, for many miles out at sea, its stream can be distinctly
traced, and its waters remain fresh, refusing for a long time to become
contaminated by the salt of the mighty waste of waters.
The main river and its tributaries have already been explored for at
least 11,000 miles. This, of course, gives a length of river banks of
no less than 22,000 miles. It can be better grasped what this means
when we remember that the whole coast-line of Europe, following every
indentation of the shore--from the most northern point of Norway to
the spot in the Black Sea where the Caucasus Mountains separate Europe
from Asia--is only 17,000 miles, or 5,000 miles less than the total
length of river banks past which the mighty Congo continually sweeps.
To give another illustration, I may remind you that the circumference
of the globe on which we live is 24,000 miles. So that the length of
the banks of the Congo--so far as they are at present known--only falls
some 2,000 miles short of the total girth of our planet. When the great
river becomes more completely known the extent of the river’s banks may
probably be found to equal, and very possibly to exceed, the earth’s
circumference.
The total length of the main river--omitting the branches--from source
to mouth is close upon three thousand miles, equal to the distance from
Liverpool to New York.
The area of territory drained is something over 1,500,000 square miles,
or equal, roughly speaking, to about one-eight of the whole continent
of Africa. It exceeds the total area of India by 200,000 square miles,
and would only be equalled by thirty-two Englands. It is needless to
quote further figures in order to impress upon us the enormous extent
and importance of Africa’s greatest waterway.
The wide-spreading arms of the Congo reach themselves out on all sides
to such a distance and extent that the remote headwaters, or fountains,
overlap and almost intermingle with the streams which contribute their
waters to the other great rivers of the continent. On the north-west
we find some of the early streams flowing almost from the same sources
which supply tributaries of the Niger and the Shari. In the north-east
we find the remote tributaries of the Welle-Makua almost touching those
of the Bahr-el-Ghazal, which helps to swell the Nile. The headwaters
of the Aruwimi, again, flow from within a few minutes’ walk of where
a view can be obtained of the Albert Lake, also belonging to the Nile
system. The Malagarazi River, which flows into Lake Tanganyika, and so
finds its way to the Congo, rises in the same hills which gave birth to
the Alexandra Nile, a western affluent to Lake Victoria. We find, also,
many of the great tributaries on the southern bank of the Congo flow
from highlands which also pay tribute to streams flowing to the Zambezi.
In comparison with the historic tales the Nile and Niger have to tell
us, the story of the Congo is only very modern. The early history
of the great river is very meagre indeed, and we search the ancient
classics in vain for any mention of even its existence.
The river was, and is to this day, known to the Portuguese as the
Zaire, but the actual meaning of the word is doubtful. Some consider
it to simply mean river. The country through which the great river
flows was known to the Portuguese as the kingdom of the Congo. The
Zaire, therefore, appeared upon the early Portuguese maps as Rio de
Congo, which, when translated, became, of course, on English maps,
River of Congo, and finally simply Congo, as we now know it.
Although the mouth of the Congo was discovered by the Portuguese over
four hundred years ago, very little was known of the geography of the
river itself until our own century. Jesuit missionaries certainly
settled in the kingdom of the Congo, and they doubtless collected much
information from the native travellers regarding the geography of the
interior.
The English geographer, Peter Heylyn, writing in 1657, speaks of
the Zaire, or River of Congo, rising in Lake Zembre. After naming
the rivers of the Country of Congo, he goes on to say: “This last
(the Zaire), the greatest of them all, if not of all Africk also: Of
which, though we have spoke already, we shall add this here, that it
falleth into the Æthiopic Sea with so great violence, that for ten
miles commonly, for fifteen sometimes, the waters of it do retain
their natural sweetness: not intermingled nor corrupted with the Salt
Sea-water: Nor can the people sail above five miles against the stream
of the cataracts, or huge falls which it hath from the Mountains; more
terrible and turbulent than those of the Nile.”
The great discoveries connected with the Congo have been in almost all
cases the result of inquiries set on foot for other purposes, and not
the outcome of direct research. This is especially the case with regard
to the long and tedious wanderings of Dr. Livingstone, between the
years 1866 and 1873, which terminated only in his death in the latter
year. When Livingstone started upon his last and greatest expedition
in 1866, it was with the idea of clearing up certain doubtful points
connected with Lakes Tanganyika and Nyasa, and of establishing, if
possible, the southern limit of the Nile watershed. He had no intention
of working at the Congo at all, and, in fact, remarks in his journal,
in a half jocular manner, that he had no desire to become “blackman’s
meat” for anything less than the Nile.
Stanley’s great journey from Nyangwe to Boma made known, of course,
only the main stream of the river, but it opened the way, and from that
day down to the present a whole legion of travellers, both British and
European, have devoted themselves to the filling in of the details. The
great traveller himself shortly after discovered lakes Leopold II. and
Mantumba; and so recently as 1887 explored the great Aruwimi territory,
following it to its source in the neighbourhood of the Albert Lake,
when engaged in his last great journey through “Darkest Africa.”
The Nineteenth Century has been what we may call the age of discovery,
so far as the Congo is concerned. The geography of the river is now
fairly well known, the discoveries of the past twenty years having
undoubtedly transcended all possible expectations or even conceptions.
The next century will in all probability be one of Congo commerce
and Congo engineering. Already we find a railway some 250 miles in
length, in course of construction, which, when completed, will overcome
the natural difficulties of transport in the neighbourhood of the
Livingstone Falls, and throw open to the world the mighty natural
highway to the heart of the Continent. Already we find, in spite of
the difficulties of the cataract region, that some thirty odd steamers
are daily ploughing their way up and down the Congo’s giant stream.
Thus has the great river begun the work of bearing the naturally rich
products of the Congo basin to the coast, and of carrying the return
commodities into the interior.
The work of the explorer, the trader, and the missionary is already
beginning to bear fruit. In their wake will follow civilization,
commerce and Christianity. Cities--centres of industry and light--will
be founded, and in due time the peoples of the “Heart of Africa” will
take their place in the progress of the world.
THE MACKENZIE RIVER
WILLIAM OGILVIE
Fort McPherson stands on a high bank of gravel and slate, on the east
side of the Peel River, about fourteen miles above the point where it
divides and joins the Mackenzie delta, which is common to both rivers.
The height of this bank rapidly decreases towards the mouth of the
river, where it almost entirely disappears. The country surrounding
has evidently at one time been a part of the Arctic Ocean which has
been gradually filled up with alluvial deposits brought down by the two
rivers.
On this rich soil, the timber, mostly spruce, with some tamarack, birch
and poplar, is, for the latitude, very large. When I arrived at Fort
McPherson, on the 20th of June, the new buds on the trees were just
perceptible, and on the evening of the 22d, when I left, the trees were
almost fully in leaf.
Between Peel River and the Mackenzie about two-thirds of the channel in
the delta averages more than a quarter of a mile wide; the remainder
about one hundred yards. All of it was deep when I passed through,
and the Hudson’s Bay Company’s steamer, _Wrigley_, drawing five feet
of water, finds no difficulty in navigating it. The banks do not rise
more than ten or fifteen feet above the water, and the current is
continually wearing away the soft deposit and carrying it down to the
lower part of the delta and to the Arctic Ocean.
Where we enter the Mackenzie proper, the channel is three-fourths of a
mile wide, but it is only one of four, there being three large islands
at this point. The whole width of the river cannot be less than three
or four miles. Looking northward, down the westerly channel, the view
is bounded by the sky, and widens in the distance so that one can fancy
he is looking out to sea.
A north wind raises quite a swell here, and the salty odour of the sea
air is plainly perceptible above the delta. The banks continue low, and
the country flat on both sides of the river, for some nine or ten miles
above the islands. The shore on the east side is sloping, while that on
the west is generally perpendicular, showing the action of the current,
which is wearing into and carrying away portions of it. This form of
bank changes into steep shale rock on both sides, gradually increasing
in height as far as the Narrows, where they are probably one hundred
and fifty feet above the water.