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

by Sir Charles Lyell

So imperfect has the science of natural history remained down to our own times, that, within the memory of persons now living, the numbers of known animals and plants have been doubled, or even quadrupled, in many classes. New and often conspicuous species are annually discovered in parts of the old continent, long inhabited by the most civilized nations. Conscious, therefore, of the limited extent of our information, we always infer, when such discoveries are made, that the beings in question had previously eluded our research; or had at least existed elsewhere, and only migrated at a recent period into the territories where we now find them. It is difficult, even in contemplation, to anticipate the time when we shall be entitled to make any other hypothesis in regard to all the marine tribes, and to by far the greater number of the terrestrial;—such as birds, which possess such unlimited powers of migration; insects, which, besides the variability of each species in number, are also so capable of being diffused to vast distances; and cryptogamous plants, to which, as to many other classes, both of the animal and vegetable kingdom, similar observations are applicable.

What kind of evidence of new creations could be expected?—What kind of proofs, therefore, could we reasonably expect to find of the origin at a particular period of a new species?

Perhaps it may be said in reply that, within the last two or three centuries, some forest tree or new quadruped might have been observed to appear suddenly in those parts, of England or France which had been most thoroughly investigated;—that naturalists might have been able to show that no such living being inhabited any other region of the globe, and that there was no tradition of anything similar having before been observed in the district where it had made its appearance.

Now, although this objection may seem plausible, yet its force will be found to depend entirely on the rate of fluctuation which we suppose to prevail in the animate world, and on the proportion which such conspicuous subjects of the animal and vegetable kingdoms bear to those which are less known and escape our observation. There are, perhaps, more than a million species of plants and animals, exclusive of the microscopic and infusory animalcules, now inhabiting the terraqueous globe. The terrestrial plants may amount, says De Candolle, to somewhere between 110,000 and 120,000;[992] but the data on which this conjecture is founded are considered by many botanists to be vague and unsatisfactory. Sprengel only enumerated, in 1827, about 31,000 known phænogamous, and 6000 cryptogamous plants; but that naturalist omitted many, perhaps 7000 phænogamous, and 1000 cryptogamous species. Mr. Lindley, in a letter to the author in 1836, expressed his opinion that it would be rash to speculate on the existence of more than 80,000 phænogamous, and 10,000 cryptogamous plants. "If we take," he says, in a letter to the author on this subject, "37,000 as the number of published phænogamous species, and then add, for the undiscovered species in Asia and New Holland, 15,000, in Africa 10,000, and in America 18,000, we have 80,000 species; and if 7000 be the number of published cryptogamous plants, and we allow 3000 for the undiscovered species (making 10,000), there would then be, on the whole, 90,000 species." But since that period one catalogue, as I learn from Dr. J. Hooker, contains a list of the names of 78,000 phænogamous plants which had been published before 1841.

It was supposed by Linnæus that there were four or five species of insects in the world for each phænogamous plant: but if we may judge from the relative proportion of the two classes in Great Britain, the number of insects must be still greater; for the total number of British insects, "according to the last census," is about 12,500;[993] whereas there are only 1500 phænogamous plants indigenous to our island. As the insects are much more numerous in hot countries than in our temperate latitudes, it seems difficult to avoid the conclusion that there are more than half a million species in the world.

The number of known mammifers, when Temminck wrote, exceeded 800, and Mr. Waterhouse informs me that more than 1200 are now (1850) ascertained to exist. Baron Cuvier estimated the amount of known fishes at 6000; and Mr. G. Gray, in his "Genera of Birds," enumerates 8000 species. We have still to add the reptiles, and all the invertebrated animals, exclusive of insects. It remains, in a great degree, mere matter of conjecture what proportion the aquatic tribes may bear to the denizens of the land; but the habitable surface beneath the waters can hardly be estimated at less than double that of the continents and islands, even admitting that a very considerable area is destitute of life, in consequence of great depth, cold, darkness, and other circumstances. In the late polar expedition it was found that, in some regions, as in Baffin's Bay, there were marine animals inhabiting the bottom at great depths, where the temperature of the water was below the freezing point. That there is life at much greater profundities in warmer regions may be confidently inferred.

The ocean teems with life—the class of Polyps alone are conjectured by Lamarck to be as strong in individuals as insects. Every tropical reef is described as covered with Corals and Sponges, and swarming with Crustacea, Echini, and Testacea; while almost every tide-washed rock in the world is carpeted with Fuci, and supports some Corallines, Actiniæ, and Mollusca. There are innumerable forms in the seas of the warmer zones, which have scarcely begun to attract the attention of the naturalist; and there are parasitic animals without number, three or four of which are sometimes appropriated to one genus, as to the whale (Balæna), for example. Even though we concede, therefore, that the geographical range of marine species is more extensive in general than that of the terrestrial (the temperature of the sea being more uniform, and the land impeding less the migrations of the oceanic than the ocean those of the terrestrial species), yet it seems probable that the aquatic tribes far exceed in number the inhabitants of the land.

Without insisting on this point, it may be safe to assume, that, exclusive of microscopic beings, there are between one and two millions of species now inhabiting the terraqueous globe; so that if only one of these were to become extinct annually, and one new one were to be every year called into being, much more than a million of years might be required to bring about a complete revolution in organic life.

I am not hazarding at present any hypothesis as to the probable rate of change; but none will deny that when the annual birth and the annual death of one species on the globe is proposed as a mere speculation, this at least is to imagine no slight degree of instability in the animate creation. If we divide the surface of the earth into twenty regions of equal area, one of these might comprehend a space of land and water about equal in dimensions to Europe, and might contain a twentieth part of the million of species which may be assumed to exist in the animal kingdom. In this region one species only would, according to the rate of mortality before assumed, perish in twenty years, or only five out of fifty thousand in the course of a century. But as a considerable proportion of the whole would belong to the aquatic classes, with which we have a very imperfect acquaintance, we must exclude them from our consideration; and if they constitute half of the entire number, then one species only might be lost in forty years among the terrestrial tribes. Now the Mammalia, whether terrestrial or aquatic, bear so small a proportion to other classes of animals, forming less, perhaps, than one thousandth part of the whole, that if the longevity of species in the different orders were equal, a vast period must elapse before it would come to the turn of this conspicuous class to lose one of their number. If one species only of the whole animal kingdom died out in forty years, no more than one mammifer might disappear in 40,000 years in a region of the dimensions of Europe.

It is easy, therefore, to see, that in a small portion of such an area, in countries, for example, of the size of England and France, periods of much greater duration must elapse before it would be possible to authenticate the first appearance of one of the larger plants and animals, assuming the annual birth and death of one species to be the rate of vicissitude in the animate creation throughout the world.