In studying many chains of mountains, we find that the strike or line of outcrop of continuous sets of strata, and the general direction of the chain, may be far from rectilinear. Curves forming angles of 20° or 30° may be found in the same range as in the Alleghanies; just as trains of active volcanoes and the zones throughout which modern earthquakes occur are often linear, without running in straight lines. Nor are all of these, though contemporaneous or belonging to our own epoch, by any means parallel, but some at right angles, the one to the other.
Slow upheaval and subsidence.—Recent observations have disclosed to us the wonderful fact, that not only the west coast of South America, but also other large areas, some of them several thousand miles in circumference, such as Scandinavia, and certain archipelagoes in the Pacific, are slowly and insensibly rising; while other regions, such as Greenland, and parts of the Pacific and Indian Oceans, in which atolls or circular coral islands abound, are as gradually sinking. That all the existing continents and submarine abysses may have originated in movements of this kind, continued throughout incalculable periods of time, is undeniable, and the denudation which the dry land appears everywhere to have suffered, favors the idea that it was raised from the deep by a succession of upward movements, prolonged throughout indefinite periods. For the action of waves and currents on land slowly emerging from the deep, affords the only power by which we can conceive so many deep valleys and wide spaces to have been denuded as those which are unquestionably the effects of running water.
But perhaps it may be said that there is no analogy between the slow upheaval of broad plains or table-lands, and the manner in which we must presume all mountain-chains, with their inclined strata, to have originated. It seems, however, that the Andes have been rising century after century, at the rate of several feet, while the Pampas on the east have been raised only a few inches in the same time. Crossing from the Atlantic to the Pacific, in a line passing through Mendoza, Mr. Darwin traversed a plain 800 miles broad, the eastern part of which has emerged from beneath the sea at a very modern period. The slope from the Atlantic is at first very gentle, then greater, until the traveller finds, on reaching Mendoza, that he has gained, almost insensibly, a height of 4000 feet. The mountainous district then begins suddenly, and its breadth from Mendoza to the shores of the Pacific is 120 miles, the average height of the principal chain being from 15,000 to 16,000 feet, without including some prominent peaks, which ascend much higher. Now all we require, to explain the origin of the principal inequalities of level here described, is to imagine, first, a zone of more violent movement to the west of Mendoza, and, secondly, to the east of that place, an upheaving force, which died away gradually as it approached the Atlantic. In short, we are only called upon to conceive, that the region of the Andes was pushed up four feet in the same period in which the Pampas near Mendoza rose one foot, and the plains near the shores of the Atlantic one inch. In Europe we have learnt that the land at the North Cape ascends about five feet in a century, while farther to the south the movements diminish in quantity first to a foot, and then, at Stockholm, to three inches in a century, while at certain points still farther south there is no movement.
But in what manner, it is asked, can we account for the great lateral pressure which has been exerted not only in the Andes, Alps, and other chains, but also on the strata of many low and nearly level countries? Do not the folding and fracture of the beds, the anticlinal and synclinal ridges and troughs, as they are called, and the vertical, and even sometimes the inverted position of the beds, imply an abruptness and intensity in the disturbing force wholly different in kind and energy to that which now rends the rocks during ordinary earthquakes? I shall treat more fully in the sequel (end of chap. 32) of the probable subterranean sources, whether of upward or downward movement, and of great lateral pressure; but it may be well briefly to state in this place that in our own times, as, for example, in Chili, in 1822, the volcanic force has overcome the resistance, and permanently uplifted a country of such vast extent that the weight and volume of the Andes must be insignificant in comparison, even if we indulge the most moderate conjectures as to the thickness of the earth's crust above the volcanic foci.
To assume that any set of strata with which we are acquainted are made up of such cohesive and unyielding materials, as to be able to resist a power of such stupendous energy, if its direction, instead of being vertical, happened to be oblique or horizontal, would be extremely rash. But if they could yield to a sideway thrust, even in a slight degree, they would become squeezed and folded to any amount if subjected for a sufficient number of times to the repeated action of the same force. We can scarcely doubt that a mass of rock several miles thick was uplifted in Chili in 1822 and 1835, and that a much greater volume of solid matter is upheaved wherever the rise of the land is very gradual, as in Scandinavia, the development of heat being probably, in that region, at a greater distance from the surface. If continents, rocked, shaken, and fissured, like the western region of South America, or very gently elevated, like Norway and Sweden, do not acquire in a few days or hours an additional height of several thousand feet, this can arise from no lack of mechanical force in the subterranean moving cause, but simply because the antagonist power, or the strength, toughness, and density of the earth's crust is insufficient to resist, so long, as to allow the volcanic energy an indefinite time to accumulate. Instead of the explosive charge augmenting in quantity for countless ages, it finds relief continuously, or by a succession of shocks of moderate violence, so as never to burst or blow up the covering of incumbent rock in one grand paroxysmal convulsion. Even in its most energetic efforts it displays an intermittent and mitigated intensity, being never permitted to lay a whole continent in ruins. Hence the numerous eruptions of lava from the same vent, or chain of vents, and the recurrence of similar earthquakes for thousands of years along certain areas or zones of country. Hence the numerous monuments of the successive ejection and injection of melted matter in ancient geological epochs, and the fissures formed in distinct ages, and often widened and filled at different eras.
Among the causes of lateral pressure, the expansion by heat of large masses of solid stone intervening between others which have a different degree of expansibility, or which happen not to have their temperature raised at the same time, may play an important part. But as we know that rocks have so often sunk down thousands of feet below their original level, we can hardly doubt that much of the bending of pliant strata, and the packing of the same into smaller spaces, has frequently been occasioned by subsidence. Whether the failure of support be produced by the melting of porous rocks, which, when fluid, and subjected to great pressure, may occupy less room than before, or which, by passing from a pasty to a crystalline condition, may, as in the case of granite, according to the experiments of Deville, suffer a contraction of 10 per cent., or whether the sinking be due to the subtraction of lava driven elsewhere to some volcanic orifice, and there forced outwards, or whether it be brought on by the shrinking of solid and stony masses during refrigeration, or by the condensation of gases, or any other imaginable cause, we have no reason to incline to the idea that the consequent geological changes are brought about so suddenly, as that large parts of continents are swallowed up at once in unfathomable subterranean abysses. If cavities be formed, they will be enlarged gradually, and as gradually filled. We read, indeed, accounts of engulphed cities and areas of limited extent which have sunk down many yards at once; but we have as yet no authentic records of the sudden disappearance of mountains, or the submergence or emergence of great islands. On the other hand, the creeps in coal mines[254] demonstrate that gravitation begins to act as soon as a moderate quantity of matter is removed even at a great depth. The roof sinks in, or the floor of the mine rises, and the bent strata often assume as regularly a curved and crumpled arrangement as that observed on a grander scale in mountain-chains. The absence, indeed, of chaotic disorder, and the regularity of the plications in geological formations of high antiquity, although not unfrequently adduced to prove the unity and instantaneousness of the disturbing force, might with far greater propriety be brought forward as an argument in favor of the successive application of some irresistible but moderated force, such as that which can elevate or depress a continent.
In conclusion, I may observe that one of the soundest objections to the theory of the sudden upthrow or downthrow of mountain-chains is this, that it provides us with too much force of one kind, namely, that of subterranean movement, while it deprives us of another kind of mechanical force, namely, that exerted by the waves and currents of the ocean, which the geologist requires for the denudation of land during its slow upheaval or depression. It may be safely affirmed that the quantity of igneous and aqueous action,—of volcanic eruption and denudation,—of subterranean movement and sedimentary deposition,—not only of past ages, but of one geological epoch, or even the fraction of an epoch, has exceeded immeasurably all the fluctuations of the inorganic world which have been witnessed by man. But we have still to inquire whether the time to which each chapter or page or paragraph of the earth's autobiography relates, was not equally immense when contrasted with a brief era of 3000 or 5000 years. The real point on which the whole controversy turns, is the relative amount of work done by mechanical force in given quantities of time, past and present. Before we can determine the relative intensity of the force employed, we must have some fixed standard by which to measure the time expended in its development at two distinct periods. It is not the magnitude of the effects, however gigantic their proportions, which can inform us in the slightest degree whether the operation was sudden or gradual, insensible or paroxysmal. It must be shown that a slow process could never in any series of ages give rise to the same results.
The advocate of paroxysmal energy might assume a uniform and fixed rate of variation in times past and present for the animate world, that is to say, for the dying-out and coming-in of species, and then endeavor to prove that the changes of the inanimate world have not gone on in a corresponding ratio. But the adoption of such a standard of comparison would lead, I suspect, to a theory by no means favorable to the pristine intensity of natural causes. That the present state of the organic world is not stationary, can be fairly inferred from the fact, that some species are known to have become extinct in the course even of the last three centuries, and that the exterminating causes always in activity, both on the land and in the waters, are very numerous; also, because man himself is an extremely modern creation; and we may therefore reasonably suppose that some of the mammalia now contemporary with man, as well as a variety of species of inferior classes, may have been recently introduced into the earth, to supply the places of plants and animals which have from time to time disappeared. But granting that some such secular variation in the zoological and botanical worlds is going on, and is by no means wholly inappreciable to the naturalist, still it is certainly far less manifest than the revolution always in progress in the inorganic world. Every year some volcanic eruptions take place, and a rude estimate might be made of the number of cubic feet of lava and scoriæ poured or cast out of various craters. The amount of mud and sand deposited in deltas, and the advance of new land upon the sea, or the annual retreat of wasting sea-cliffs, are changes the minimum amount of which might be roughly estimated. The quantity of land raised above or depressed below the level of the sea might also be computed, and the change arising from such movements in a century might be conjectured. Suppose the average rise of the land in some parts of Scandinavia to be as much as five feet in a hundred years, the present sea-coast might be uplifted 700 feet in fourteen thousand years; but we should have no reason to anticipate, from any zoological data hitherto acquired, that the molluscous fauna of the northern seas would in that lapse of years undergo any sensible amount of variation. We discover sea-beaches in Norway 700 feet high, in which the shells are identical with those now inhabiting the German Ocean; for the rise of land in Scandinavia, however insensible to the inhabitants, has evidently been rapid when compared to the rate of contemporaneous change in the testaceous fauna of the German Ocean. Were we to wait therefore until the mollusca shall have undergone as much fluctuation as they underwent between the period of the Lias and the Upper Oolite formations; or between the Oolite and Chalk, nay, even between any two of eight subdivisions of the Eocene series, what stupendous revolutions in physical geography ought we not to expect, and how many mountain-chains might not be produced by the repetition of shocks of moderate violence, or by movements not even perceptible by man!
Or, if we turn from the mollusca to the vegetable kingdom, and ask the botanist how many earthquakes and volcanic eruptions might be expected, and how much the relative level of land and sea might be altered, or how far the principal deltas will encroach upon the ocean, or the sea-cliffs recede from the present shores, before the species of European forest-trees will die out, he would reply that such alterations in the inanimate world might be multiplied indefinitely before he should have reason to anticipate, by reference to any known data, that the existing species of trees in our forests would disappear and give place to others. In a word, the movement of the inorganic world is obvious and palpable, and might be likened to the minute-hand of a clock, the progress of which can be seen and heard, whereas the fluctuations of the living creation are nearly invisible, and resemble the motion of the hour-hand of a timepiece. It is only by watching it attentively for some time, and comparing its relative position after an interval, that we can prove the reality of its motion.[255]