Among many obstacles to such extensive transference of habitations, we must not forget the immense lapse of time required, according to the hypothesis before suggested, to bring about a considerable change in climate. During a period so vast, the other cause of extirpation, before enumerated, would exert so powerful an influence as to prevent all, save a very few hardy species, from passing from equatorial to polar regions, or from the tropics to the pole.[988]
But the power of accommodation to new circumstances is great in certain species, and might enable many to pass from one zone to another, if the mean annual heat of the atmosphere and the ocean were greatly altered. To the marine tribes, especially, such a passage would be possible; for they are less impeded in their migrations by barriers of land, than are the terrestrial by the ocean. Add to this, that the temperature of the ocean is much more uniform than that of the atmosphere investing the land; so that we may easily suppose that most of the testacea, fish, and other classes, might pass from the equatorial into the temperate regions, if the mean temperature of those regions were transposed, although a second expatriation of these species of tropical origin into the arctic and antarctic circles would probably be impossible.
Let us now consider more particularly the effect of vicissitudes of climate in causing one species to give way before the increasing numbers of some other.
When temperature forms the barrier which arrests the progress of an animal or plant in a particular direction, the individuals are fewer and less vigorous as they approach the extreme confines of the geographical range of the species. But these stragglers are ready to multiply rapidly on the slightest increase or diminution of heat that may be favorable to them, just as particular insects increase during a hot summer, and certain plants and animals gain ground after a series of congenial seasons.
In almost every district, especially if it be mountainous, there are a variety of species the limits of whose habitations are conterminous, some being unable to proceed farther without encountering too much heat, others too much cold. Individuals, which are thus on the borders of the regions proper to their respective species, are like the outposts of hostile armies, ready to profit by every slight change of circumstances in their favor, and to advance upon the ground occupied by their neighbors and opponents.
The proximity of distinct climates produced by the inequalities of the earth's surface, brings species possessing very different constitutions into such immediate contact, that their naturalizations are very speedy whenever opportunities of advancing present themselves. Many insects and plants, for example, are common to low plains within the arctic circle, and to lofty mountains in Scotland and other parts of Europe. If the climate, therefore, of the polar regions were transferred to our own latitudes, the species in question would immediately descend from these elevated stations to overrun the low grounds. Invasions of this kind, attended by the expulsion of the pre-occupants, are almost instantaneous, because the change of temperature not only places the one species in a more favorable position, but renders the others sickly and almost incapable of defence.
These changes inconsistent with the theory of transmutation.—Lamarck, when speculating on the transmutation of species, supposed every modification in organization and instinct to be brought about slowly and insensibly in an indefinite lapse of ages. But he does not appear to have sufficiently considered how much every alteration in the physical condition of the habitable surface changes the relations of a great number of co-existing species, and that some of these would be ready instantly to avail themselves of the slightest change in their favor, and to multiply to the injury of others. Even if we thought it possible that the palm or the elephant, which now flourish in equatorial regions, could ever learn to bear the variable seasons of our temperate zone, or the rigors of an arctic winter, we might with no less confidence affirm, that they must perish before they had time to become habituated to such new circumstances. That they would be displaced by other species as often as the climate varied, may be inferred from the data before explained respecting the local extermination of species produced by the multiplication of others.
Suppose the climate of the highest part of the woody zone of Etna to be transferred to the sea-shore of the base of the mountain, no botanist would anticipate that the olive, lemon-tree, and prickly pear (Cactus Opuntia) would be able to contend with the oak and chestnut, which would begin forthwith to descend to a lower level; or that these last would be able to stand their ground against the pine, which would also, in the space of a few years, begin to occupy a lower position. We might form some kind of estimate of the time which might be required for the migrations of these plants; whereas we have no data for concluding that any number of thousands of years would be sufficient for one step in the pretended metamorphosis of one species into another, possessing distinct attributes and qualities.
This argument is applicable not merely to climate, but to any other cause of mutation. However slowly a lake may be converted into a marsh, or a marsh into a meadow, it is evident that before the lacustrine plants can acquire the power of living in marshes, or the marsh-plants of living in a less humid soil, other species, already existing in the region, and fitted for these several stations, will intrude and keep possession of the ground. So, if a tract of salt water becomes fresh by passing through every intermediate degree of brackishness, still the marine mollusks will never be permitted to be gradually metamorphosed into fluviatile species; because long before any such transformation can take place by slow and insensible degrees, other tribes, already formed to delight in brackish or fresh water, will avail themselves of the change in the fluid, and will, each in their turn, monopolize the space.
It is idle, therefore, to dispute about the abstract possibility of the conversion of one species into another, when there are known causes so much more active in their nature, which must always intervene and prevent the actual accomplishment of such conversions. A faint image of the certain doom of a species less fitted to struggle with some new condition in a region which it previously inhabited, and where it has to contend with a more vigorous species, is presented by the extirpation of savage tribes of men by the advancing colony of some civilized nation. In this case the contest is merely between two different races—two varieties, moreover, of a species which exceeds all others in its aptitude to accommodate its habits to the most extraordinary variations of circumstances. Yet few future events are more certain than the speedy extermination of the Indians of North America and the savages of New Holland in the course of a few centuries, when these tribes will be remembered only in poetry or history.