Principles of Geology / or, The Modern Changes of the Earth and its Inhabitants Considered as Illustrative of Geology

by Sir Charles Lyell

That a large portion of this fluviatile deposit, together with the fluvio-marine strata now in progress near the Balize, consists of mud and sand with much vegetable matter intermixed, may be inferred from what has been said of the abundance of drift trees floated down every summer. These are seen matted together into a net-work around the extensive mud banks at the extreme mouths of the river. Every one acquainted with the geography of Louisiana is aware that the most southern part of the delta forms a long narrow tongue of land protruding for 50 miles into the Gulf of Mexico, at the end of which are numerous channels of discharge. This singular promontory consists simply of the river and its two low, flat banks, covered with reeds, young willows, and poplars. Its appearance answers precisely to that of the banks far in the interior, when nothing appears above water during inundations but the higher part of the sloping glacis or bank. In the one case we have the swamps or an expanse of freshwater with the tops of trees appearing above, in the other the bluish green surface of the Gulf of Mexico. An opinion has very commonly prevailed that this narrow promontory, the newest product of the river, has gained very rapidly upon the sea, since the foundation of New Orleans; but after visiting the Balize in 1846, in company with Dr. Carpenter, and making many inquiries of the pilots, and comparing the present outline of the coast with the excellent Spanish chart, published by Charlevoix 120 years before, we came to a different conclusion. The rate of permanent advance of the new land has been very slow, not exceeding perhaps one mile in a century. The gain may have been somewhat more rapid in former years, when the new strip of soil projected less far into the gulf, since it is now much more exposed to the action of a strong marine current. The tides also, when the waters of the river are low, enter into each opening, and scour them out, destroying the banks of mud and the sand-bars newly formed during the flood season.

An observation of Darby, in regard to the strata composing part of this delta, deserves attention. In the steep banks of the Atchafalaya, before alluded to, the following section, he says, is observable at low water:—first an upper stratum, consisting invariably of bluish clay, common to the banks of the Mississippi; below this a stratum of red ochreous earth, peculiar to Red River, under which the blue clay of the Mississippi again appears; and this arrangement is constant, proving, as that geographer remarks, that the waters of the Mississippi and the Red River occupied alternately, at some former periods, considerable tracts below their present point of union.[366] Such alternations are probably common in submarine spaces situated between two converging deltas; for, before the two rivers unite, there must almost always be a certain period when an intermediate tract will by turns be occupied and abandoned by the waters of each stream; since it can rarely happen that the season of highest flood will precisely correspond in each. In the case of the Red River and Mississippi, which carry off the waters from countries placed under widely distant latitudes, an exact coincidence in the time of greatest inundation is very improbable.

The antiquity of the delta, or length of the period which has been occupied in the deposition of so vast a mass of alluvial matter, is a question which may well excite the curiosity of every geologist. Sufficient data have not yet been obtained to afford a full and satisfactory answer to the inquiry, but some approximation may already be made to the minimum of time required.

When I visited New Orleans, in February, 1846, I found that Dr. Riddell had made numerous experiments to ascertain the proportion of sediment contained in the waters of the Mississippi; and he concluded that the mean annual amount of solid matter was to the water as 1/1245 in weight, or about 1/3000 in volume.[367] From the observations of the same gentleman, and those of Dr. Carpenter and Mr. Forshey, an eminent engineer, to whom I have before alluded, the average width, depth, and velocity of the Mississippi, and thence the mean annual discharge of water were deduced. I assumed 528 feet, or the tenth of a mile, as the probable thickness of the deposit of mud and sand in the delta; founding my conjecture chiefly on the depth of the Gulf of Mexico, between the southern point of Florida and the Balize, which equals on an average 100 fathoms, and partly on some borings 600 feet deep in the delta, near Lake Pontchartrain, north of New Orleans, in which the bottom of the alluvial matter is said not to have been reached. The area of the delta being about 13,600 square statute miles, and the quantity of solid matter annually brought down by the river 3,702,758,400 cubic feet, it must have taken 67,000 years for the formation of the whole; and if the alluvial matter of the plain above be 264 feet deep, or half that of the delta,[368] it must have required 33,500 more years for its accumulation, even if its area be estimated as only equal to that of the delta, whereas it is in fact larger. If some deduction be made from the time here stated, in consequence of the effect of the drift-wood, which must have aided in filling up more rapidly the space above alluded to, a far more important allowance must be made on the other hand, for the loss of matter, owing to the finer particles of mud not settling at the mouths of the river, but being swept out far to sea during the predominant action of the tides, and the waves in the winter months, when the current of fresh water is feeble. Yet however vast the time during which the Mississippi has been transporting its earthy burden to the ocean, the whole period, though far exceeding, perhaps, 100,000 years, must be insignificant in a geological point of view, since the bluffs or cliffs, bounding the great valley, and therefore older in date, and which are from 50 to 250 feet in perpendicular height, consist in great part of loam containing land, fluviatile, and lacustrine shells of species still inhabiting the same country. (See [fig. 23], p. 265.)

Before we take leave of the great delta, we may derive an instructive lesson from the reflection that the new deposits already formed, or now accumulating, whether marine or freshwater, must greatly resemble in composition, and the general character of their organic remains, many ancient strata, which enter largely into the earth's structure. Yet there is no sudden revolution in progress, whether on the land or in the waters, whether in the animate or the inanimate world. Notwithstanding the excessive destruction of soil and uprooting of trees, the region which yields a never-failing supply of drift-wood is densely clothed with noble forests, and is almost unrivalled in its power of supporting animal and vegetable life. In spite of the undermining of many a lofty bluff, and the encroachments of the delta on the sea—in spite of the earthquake, which rends and fissures the soil, or causes areas more than sixty miles in length to sink down several yards in a few months, the general features of the district remain unaltered, or are merely undergoing a slow and insensible change. Herds of wild deer graze on the pastures, or browse upon the trees; and if they diminish in number, it is only where they give way to man and the domestic animals which follow in his train. The bear, the wolf, the fox, the panther, and the wild-cat, still maintain themselves in the fastnesses of the forests of cypress and gum-tree. The racoon and the opossum are everywhere abundant, while the musk-rat, otter, and mink still frequent the rivers and lakes, and a few beavers and buffaloes have not yet been driven from their ancient haunts. The waters teem with aligators, tortoises, and fish, and their surface is covered with millions of migratory waterfowl, which perform their annual voyage between the Canadian lakes and the shores of the Mexican Gulf. The power of man begins to be sensibly felt, and many parts of the wilderness to be replaced by towns, orchards, and gardens. The gilded steamboats, like moving palaces, stem the force of the current, or shoot rapidly down the descending stream, through the solitudes of the forests and prairies. Already does the flourishing population of the great valley far exceed that of the thirteen United States when first they declared their independence. Such is the state of a continent where trees and stones are hurried annually by a thousand torrents, from the mountains to the plains, and where sand and finer matter are swept down by a vast current to the sea, together with the wreck of countless forests and the bones of animals which perish in the inundations. When these materials reach the gulf, they do not render the waters unfit for aquatic animals; but on the contrary, the ocean here swarms with life, as it generally does where the influx of a great river furnishes a copious supply of organic and mineral matter. Yet many geologists, when they behold the spoils of the land heaped in successive strata, and blended confusedly with the remains of fishes, or interspersed with broken shells and corals; when they see portions of erect trunks of trees with their roots still retaining their natural position, and one tier of these preserved in a fossil state above another, imagine that they are viewing the signs of a turbulent instead of a tranquil and settled state of the planet. They read in such phenomena the proof of chaotic disorder and reiterated catastrophes, instead of indications of a surface as habitable as the most delicious and fertile districts now tenanted by man.

Fig. 25.

Map of the Delta of the Ganges and Brahmapootra.

As an example of a still larger delta advancing upon the sea in opposition to more powerful tides, I shall next describe that of the Ganges and Brahmapootra (or Burrampooter). These, the two principal rivers of India, descend from the highest mountains in the world, and partially mingle their waters in the low plains of Hindostan, before reaching the head of the Bay of Bengal. The Brahmapootra, somewhat the larger of the two, formerly passed to the east of Dacca, even so lately as the beginning of the present century, pouring most of its waters into one of the numerous channels in the delta called "the Megna." By that name the main stream was always spoken of by Rennell and others in their memoirs on this region. But the main trunk now unites with an arm of the Ganges considerably higher up, at a point about 100 miles distant from the sea; and it is constantly, according to Dr. Hooker, working its way westward, having formerly, as may be seen by ancient maps, moved eastward for a long period.

The area of the delta of the combined rivers, for it is impossible now to distinguish what belongs to each, is considerably more than double that of the Nile, even if we exclude from the delta a large extent of low, flat, alluvial plain, doubtless of fluviatile origin, which stretches more than 100 miles to the hills west of Calcutta (see map, [fig. 25]), and much farther in a northerly direction beyond the head of the great delta. The head of a delta is that point where the first arm is given off. Above that point a river receives the waters of tributaries flowing from higher levels; below it, on the contrary, it gives out portions of its waters to lower levels, through channels which flow into adjoining swamps, or which run directly to the sea. The Mississippi, as before described, has a single head, which originated at an unknown period when the Red River joined it. In the great delta of Bengal there may be said to be two heads nearly equidistant from the sea, that of the Ganges (G, map, [fig. 25]), about 30 miles below Rajmahal, or 216 statute miles in a direct line from the sea, and that of the Brahmapootra (B), below Chirapoonjee, where the river issues from the Khasia mountains, a distance of 224 miles from the Bay of Bengal.