But we are sometimes told that organisms are merely mechanical, and that the discussions respecting their origin have no significance any more than if they related to rocks or crystals, because they relate merely to the organism considered as a machine, and not to that which may be supposed to be more important, namely, the great determining power of mind and will. That this is a mere evasion by which we really gain nothing, will appear from a characteristic extract of an article by an eminent biologist in the new edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica, a publication which, I am sorry to say, instead of its proper rôle as a repertory of facts, has admitted partisan papers, stating extreme and unproved speculations as if they were conclusions of science. The statement referred to is as follows:—"A mass of living protoplasm is simply a molecular machine of great complexity, the total results of the working of which, or its vital phenomena, depend on the one hand on its construction, and on the other, on the energy supplied to it; and to speak of vitality as anything but the name for a series of operations is as if one should talk of the horologity of a clock." It would, I think, scarcely be possible to put into the same number of words a greater amount of unscientific assumption and unproved statement than in this sentence. Is "living protoplasm" different in any way from dead protoplasm, and if so, what causes the difference? What is a "machine"? Can we conceive of a self-produced or uncaused machine, or one not intended to work out some definite results? The results of the machine in question are said to be "vital phenomena"; certainly most wonderful results, and greater than those of any machine man has yet been able to construct. But why "vital"? If there is no such thing as life, surely they are merely physical results. Can mechanical causes produce other than physical effects? To Aristotle life was "the cause of form in organisms." Is not this quite as likely to be true as the converse proposition? If the vital phenomena depend on the "construction" of the machine, and the "energy supplied to it," whence this construction and whence this energy? The illustration of the clock does not help us to answer this question. The construction of the clock depends on its maker, and its energy is derived from the hand that winds it up. If we can think of a clock which no one has made, and which no one winds, a clock constructed by chance, set in harmony with the universe by chance, wound up periodically by chance, we shall then have an idea parallel to that of an organism living, yet without any vital energy or creative law; but in such a case we should certainly have to assume some antecedent cause, whether we call it "horologity" or by some other name. Perhaps the term evolution would serve as well as any other, were it not that common sense teaches that nothing can be spontaneously evolved out of that in which it did not previously exist.
There is one other unsolved problem in the study of life by the geologist to which it is still necessary to advert. This is the inability of palæontology to fill up the gaps in the chain of being. In this respect we are constantly taunted with the imperfection of the record, a matter so important that it merits a separate treatment; but facts show that this is much more complete than is generally supposed. Over long periods of time and many lines of being we have a nearly continuous chain, and if this does not show the tendency desired, the fault is as likely to be in the theory as in the record. On the other hand, the abrupt and simultaneous appearance of new types in many specific and generic forms and over wide and separate areas at one and the same time, is too often repeated to be accidental. Hence palæontologists, in endeavouring to establish evolution, have been obliged to assume periods of exceptional activity in the introduction of species, alternating with others of stagnation, a doctrine differing very little from that of special creation, as held by the older geologists.
The attempt has lately been made to account for these breaks by the assumption that the geological record relates only to periods of submergence, and gives no information as to those of elevation. This is manifestly untrue. In so far as marine life is concerned, the periods of submergence are those in which new forms abound for very obvious reasons, already hinted; but the periods of new forms of land and fresh-water life are those of elevation, and these have their own records and monuments, often very rich and ample, as, for example, the swamps of the Carboniferous, the transition from the great Cretaceous subsidence, when so much of the land of the Northern Hemisphere was submerged, to the new continents of the Tertiary, the Tertiary lake-basins of Western America, the Terraces and raised beaches of the Pleistocene. Had I time to refer in detail to the breaks in the continuity of life which cannot be explained by the imperfection of the record, I could show at least that nature in this case does advance per saltum—by leaps, rather than by a slow continuous process. Many able reasoners, as Le Conte, in America, and Mivart and Collard in England, hold this view.
Here, as elsewhere, a vast amount of steady conscientious work is required to enable us to solve the problems of the history of life. But if so, the more the hope for the patient student and investigator. I know nothing more chilling to research, or unfavourable to progress, than the promulgation of a dogmatic decision that there is nothing to be learned but a merely fortuitous and uncaused succession, amenable to no law, and only to be covered, in order to hide its shapeless and uncertain proportions, by the mantle of bold and gratuitous hypothesis.
So soon as we find evidence of continents and oceans we raise the question, Have these continents existed from the first in their present position and form, or have the land and water changed places in the course of geological time? This question also deserves a separate and more detailed consideration. In reality both statements are true in a certain limited sense. On the one hand, any geological map whatever suffices to show that the general outline of the existing land began to be formed in the first and oldest crumplings of the crust. On the other hand, the greater part of the surface of the land consists of marine sediments which must have been deposited when the continents were in great part submerged, and whose materials must have been derived from land that has perished in the process, while all the continental surfaces, except, perhaps, some high peaks and ridges, have been many times submerged. Both of these apparently contradictory statements are true; and without assuming both, it is impossible to explain the existing contours and reliefs of the surface.
In exceptional cases even portions of deep sea have been elevated, as in the case of the Polycistine deposits in the West Indies; but these exceptions are as yet scarcely sufficient to prove the rule.
In the case of North America, the form of the old nucleus of Laurentian rock in the north already marks out that of the finished continent, and the successive later formations have been laid upon the edges of this, like the successive loads of earth dumped over an embankment. But in order to give the great thickness of the Palæozoic sediments, the land must have been again and again submerged, and for long periods of time. Thus, in one sense, the continents have been fixed; in another, they have been constantly fluctuating. Hall and Dana have well illustrated these points in so far as eastern North America is concerned. Prof. Hull of the Geological Survey of Ireland has had the boldness to reduce the fluctuations of land and water, as evidenced in the British Islands, to the form of a series of maps intended to show the physical geography of each successive period. The attempt is probably premature, and has been met with much adverse criticism; but there can be no doubt that it has an element of truth. When we attempt to calculate what could have been supplied from the old Eozoic nucleus by decay and aqueous erosion, and when we take into account the greater local thickness of sediments towards the present sea-basins, we can scarcely avoid the conclusion that extensive areas once occupied by high land are now under the sea. But to ascertain the precise areas and position of these perished lands may now be impossible.
In point of fact we are obliged to believe in the contemporaneous existence in all geological periods, except perhaps the very oldest, of three sorts of areas on the surface of the earth: (1) Oceanic areas of deep sea, which must always have occupied the bed of the present ocean, or parts of it; (2) Continental plateaus sometimes existing as low flats, or as higher table-lands, and sometimes submerged; (3) Areas of plication or folding, more especially along the borders of the oceans, forming elevated lands rarely submerged and constantly affording the material of sedimentary accumulations. We shall find, however, that these have changed places in a remarkable manner, though always in such a way that neither the life of the land nor of the waters was wholly extinguished in the process.
Every geologist knows the contention which has been occasioned by the attempts to correlate the earlier Palæozoic deposits of the Atlantic margin of North America with those forming at the same time on the interior plateau, and with those of intervening lines of plication and igneous disturbance. Stratigraphy, lithology and fossils are all more or less at fault in dealing with these questions, and while the general nature of the problem is understood by many geologists, its solution in particular cases is still a source of apparently endless debate.
The causes and mode of operation of the great movements of the earth's crust which have produced mountains, plains and table-lands, are still involved in some mystery. One patent cause is the unequal settling of the crust towards the centre; but it is not so generally understood as it should be, that the greater settlement of the ocean-bed has necessitated its pressure against the sides of the continents in the same manner that a huge ice-floe crushes a ship or a pier. The geological map of North America shows this at a glance, and impresses us with the fact that large portions of the earth's crust have not only been folded but bodily pushed back for great distances. On looking at the extreme north, we see that the great Laurentian mass of central Newfoundland has acted as a projecting pier to the space immediately west of it, and has caused the gulf of St. Lawrence to remain an undisturbed area since Palæozoic times. Immediately to the south of this, Nova Scotia and New Brunswick are folded back. Still farther south, as Guyot has shown, the old sediments have been crushed in sharp folds against the Adirondack mass, which has sheltered the table-land of the Catskills and of the great lakes. South of this again the rocks of Pennsylvania and Maryland have been driven back in a great curve to the west. Movements of this kind on the Pacific coast of America have been still more stupendous, as well as more recent. Dr. G. M. Dawson[12] thus refers to the crushing action of the Pacific bed on the rocks of British Columbia, and this especially at two periods, the close of the Triassic and the close of the Cretaceous: "The successive foldings and crushings which the Cordillera region has suffered have resulted in an actual change of position of the rocks now composing its western margin. This change may have amounted since the beginning of Mesozoic time to one-third of its whole present width, which would place the line of the coast ranges about two degrees of longitude farther west." Here we have evidence that a tract of country 400 miles wide and consisting largely of mountain ranges and table-lands, has been crushed bodily back over two degrees of longitude; and this applies not to British Columbia merely, but to the whole west coast from Alaska to Chili. Yet we know that any contraction of the earth's nucleus can crumple up only a very thin superficial crust, which in this case must have slid over the pasty mass below.[13] Let it be observed, however, that the whole lateral pressure of vast areas has been condensed into very narrow lines. Nothing, I think, can more forcibly show the enormous pressure to which the edges of the continents have been exposed, and at the same time the great sinking of the hard and resisting ocean-beds. Complex and difficult to calculate though these movements of plication are, they are more intelligible than the apparently regular pulsations of the flat continental areas, whereby they have alternately been below and above the waters, and which must have depended on somewhat regularly recurring causes, connected either with the secular cooling of the earth or with the gradual retardation of its rotation, or with both. There is, however, good reason to believe that the successive subsidences alternated with the movements of plication, and depended on upward bendings of the ocean floor, and also on the gradual slackening of the rotation of the earth. Throughout these changes, each successive elevation exposed the rocks for long ages to the decomposing influence of the atmosphere. Each submergence swept away and deposited as sediment the material accumulated by decay. Every change of elevation was accompanied with changes of climate, and with modifications of the habitats of animals and plants. Were it possible to restore accurately the physical geography of the earth in all these respects, for each geological period, the data for the solution of many difficult questions would be furnished.