It is now clear that there is nothing in the Mosaic Record itself, which is contradicted by any scientific discovery, and that all the alleged difficulties arise either from interpretations prematurely adopted, or from theories which, when carefully examined, are found to be defective, but which may nevertheless contain in them a large element of truth. But if scientific discoveries are available for the refutation of erroneous interpretations, the probability is that when rightly understood they will help us to arrive at the true meaning, since the Works of God are, beyond all other things, likely to throw light on that portion of His Word in which those Works are described. Nor are the theories to be passed over—the greater the amount of truth which they embody the greater will be the likelihood that they will receive help from, as well as throw light upon, such a record; and thus we shall have additional evidence that the Word, the Work, and the Intellect, which has scrutinized and interpreted the Work, are all derived from the same source. We proceed, therefore, to inquire whether these facts and theories do in any way elucidate the concise statements of Scripture, so that we may be enabled to arrive at a somewhat clearer idea of the meaning of this most ancient document, and be enabled to entertain somewhat more distinct views of the manner in which the Divine Architect saw fit to accomplish His Work.
In pursuing this investigation two points must be carefully kept in mind; the first is the distinction between theory and conjecture on the one hand, and well ascertained facts on the other. We shall have much to do with theory, and with conjectural interpretations of observed facts. These can never stand on the same footing as the facts themselves, but can only be regarded as invested with greater or less probability. If it is found that these theories do explain many observed facts, that they harmonize with, and as it were dovetail into any proposed interpretation of which the words of Moses are capable; and still more if that interpretation actually completes the defective points of the theories, and supplies an adequate cause for facts hitherto inexplicable—then the presumption is a very strong one that the interpretation thus supported is at all events an approximation to the true one.
The second point to be carefully kept in mind is the very imperfect state of scientific knowledge even at the present time. As far as the matter in hand is concerned, the facts which are ascertained beyond all possibility of doubt, are very few. New means of investigation have very recently been discovered, and as a consequence new sources of information have been pointed out, new fields of research have been laid open. Twenty years ago the spectroscope was a thing undreamt of—now astronomers reckon it as of equal value with the telescope, while chemists find it indispensable to their researches. Who shall say that the next twenty years may not witness some invention of equal importance, which shall throw upon us a fresh flood of light from some unexpected quarter? If then the principle which has hitherto been maintained is correct, that all our difficulties arise from interpretations based upon insufficient knowledge, but maintained as if of equal authority with the record itself, there is a great danger lest after a time the same difficulty should recur—that the discovery of fresh facts may discredit interpretations based upon our present knowledge. Any interpretation therefore to which we may be led by the scientific views at present entertained, must be regarded as only provisional and tentative, liable at any time to be either confirmed, amended, or rejected, as fresh discoveries may be made.
Before we enter upon a detailed examination of the records of the several days, there are two preliminary points to which attention must be directed. We shall have to make frequent reference to "law." It will be well that the sense in which the term is used should be made clear. The account of the First Day's Work will lead to the recent theory of the Correlation of Forces. As this is probably a new subject to many, some previous explanation of it will be necessary.
Law, in its original and proper sense, is the expression to an inferior of the will of a superior, which the inferior has it in his power to obey or to resist, but resistance to which entails a penalty more or less severe, in proportion to the moral turpitude, or the injurious consequences of the act of disobedience. In this its strict sense the law can only exist in connection with beings possessed of reason to understand it, of power to obey it, and of free will to determine whether they will obey it or not. When these three conditions are absent law can have no existence. But the result of perfect law, perfectly obeyed, would be perfect order. Hence the observation of perfect order leads, by a reversed process, to the supposition of some law of which that order is the result. Hence arose in the first instance the term "natural laws," or "laws of nature." Events were found to follow each other in a uniform way, and this uniformity was thus sought to be accounted for. Probably in the minds of those by whom the word was thus applied in the first instance Nature was not the mere abstraction it is now, but an unseen power—Deity or subordinate to Deity— working consciously and with design.
[Footnote: Mr. Darwin, especially in the "Origin of Species," seems continually to betray the existence of this feeling in his own mind. Though he from time to time reminds us that by Nature he means nothing but the aggregate of sequences of events, or laws, he yet frequently speaks of Nature in a way which is applicable only to an intelligent worker.]
But this feeling has disappeared, and now we are told that natural law is "the observed sequence of events." In this case, then, the true meaning of the word is entirely lost—it is no longer possible to speak of law as the cause of any event.
But the old sense in which the word was applied to natural phenomena had in it far more of truth than the modern one. It was the imperfect expression of the great truth that God is a God of order—that there is a uniform procedure in His works, because in Him there is no change, no caprice. And it is of great importance to us that we should realize this truth, because we are dependent upon the laws of nature every moment of our lives. Every conscious act is performed under the conviction that the natural forces which that act calls forth will operate in a certain prescribed manner. But this conviction, though it restricts us to the limits of the possible, does not further impede the freedom of our will. To a certain extent we can choose what action we will perform, what forces we will call forth for that purpose, and what direction we will give them. Sometimes we can arrange our forces so that they will continue to act for a considerable time without any intervention from us; in other cases continued interference is necessary. But in all these cases there is no interruption of the law by which the working of these forces is regulated. We have then a limited control over these forces, and yet they are unchangeable in themselves, and in their mode of action.
When, however, we strive to ascend from our own works to those of God, we can no longer regard these forces as absolutely unchangeable. If they are practically so, it is because it is His Will that they should be so. It is this Will then which has its expression in the so-called laws of nature. The term now assumes a sense akin to, though not identical with, its original ethical sense. It is no longer a rule imposed by a superior on an inferior, but the rule by which the Supreme Being sees fit to order His own Work. While however we admit the possibility of law of this kind being changed, we have no reason to believe that in the universe with which we have to do any such change has ever taken place. But this does not preclude the possibility of Divine interference in the processes either of Creation or of Providence. New forces may from time to time be supplied, new directions may be given to existing forces, without any variation in the laws by which the action of those forces is regulated.
And if we believe that Creation was a progressive act, it is rather probable than otherwise that such interferences should take place. For a long period perhaps the uniformity of the work might lead us to forget the Being who was working; but times would arrive when definite stages of the work were accomplished, when higher developments of being were rendered possible, and in the introduction of those higher developments a something would be seen which could not be the result of the processes with which we had already become acquainted. Such interference would not in any way justify the supposition that the designs of the Author of Nature were changed, or that His original plan had proved defective. The more natural inference would be that they were a part of the plan from the first, but that the time for them was not then come.
It will be seen in the sequel that in all probability many of the special acts of Creation, mentioned in the Mosaic Record, are interferences of this kind; that for long periods of time matters advanced in a uniform manner; that the sequence of events was such as our own experience would lead us to anticipate; but that these periods were separated from one another by the introduction of new forces and new results. Of the former we may speak then as carried on under the operation of natural laws; the other may be described as special interferences not antagonistic, but supplementary, to natural laws, and forming part of the original design.
[Footnote: For fuller information on this subject, Grove's"Correlation of the Physical Forces," or Tyndall's "Lectures onHeat considered as a Mode of Motion," may be consulted.]
It has long been known that heat and light are closely connected together. The accumulation of a certain amount of heat is always accompanied by the appearance of light. But when it was found that the light could be separated from the heat by various means, it seemed possible that the two phenomena were simply associated. It is now, however, ascertained that light and heat are identical in their nature, and that a vast number of other phenomena— electricity, galvanism, magnetism, chemical action, and gravitation, as well as light and heat, are different manifestations of one and the same thing, which is called force or energy. In a great number of cases it is possible for us, by the use of appropriate means and apparatus, to transform these manifestations, so as to make the same force assume a variety of forms. Thus motion suddenly arrested becomes heat. A rifle-ball when it strikes the target becomes very hot. The heat produced by the concussion against an iron shield is found sufficient to ignite the powder in some of the newly invented projectiles. The best illustration, however, is to be obtained from galvanism. By means of the Voltaic battery we set free a certain amount of force, and we can employ it at pleasure to produce an intense light in the electric lamp, or to melt metals which resist the greatest heat of our furnaces; it will convert a bar of iron into a magnet, or decompose water into its constituents, oxygen and hydrogen, or separate a metal from its combination with oxygen. But in all these processes no new force is produced—the force set free is unchangeable in itself, and we cannot increase its amount. Owing to the imperfection of our instruments and our skill a part of it will always escape from our control, and be lost to us, but not destroyed. When, however, due allowance is made for this loss, the results produced are always in exact proportion to the amount of force originally set free. Thus, if we employ it to decompose water, the amount of water decomposed always bears an exact proportion to the amount of metal which has been oxidized in the cells of the battery.
This force pervades everything which comes within the cognizance of our senses. It exists in what are termed the elementary substances of which the crust of the earth is composed. A certain amount of it seems to be required to maintain them in the forms in which we know them; for in many cases, when two of them are made to combine, a certain amount of force is set free, which commonly makes its appearance as heat. This seems to indicate that a less amount of force suffices to maintain the compound body than was requisite for its separate elements. Thus, when oxygen and hydrogen are combined to form water intense heat is produced. If we wish to dissolve the union, and restore the oxygen and hydrogen to a gaseous state, we must restore the force which has been lost. This, however, must be done by means of electricity, as heat produces a different change—converting the water into vapour, but not dissolving the union between its elements.
Force, in the shape of heat, determines the condition in which all inorganic bodies exist. In most cases we can make any given element assume the form of a solid, a fluid, or a vapour, by the addition or subtraction of heat. Thus if a pound of ice at 32 degrees be exposed to heat, it will gradually melt—but the water produced will remain unchanged in temperature till the last particle of ice is melted—then it will begin to rise in temperature; and, if the supply of heat be uniform, it will reach a temperature of 172 degrees in exactly the same time as was occupied in melting the ice. Thus then the force which was applied to the ice as heat passes into some other form so long as the ice is being melted—it is no longer perceptible by the senses—we only see its effect in the change from the solid to the fluid form. And this result is brought about by a definite quantity of force. Each of the inorganic materials of which the crust of the earth is composed seems thus to require in its composition a definite amount of force.
The life of vegetables is developed in the formation of fresh compounds of inorganic matter and force. No vegetable can thrive without sunlight, either direct or diffused. This supplies the force which the plant combines with carbon, hydrogen, and other elements to form woody fibre, starch, oils, and other vegetable products. When we kindle a fire, we dissolve the union which has thus been formed—the carbon and hydrogen enter into simpler combinations which require less force to maintain them, and the superfluous force supplies us with light and heat.
The life of animals is developed by a process exactly the reverse of vegetable life. It is maintained by the destruction of the compounds which the vegetable had formed. These compounds are taken into the body as food, and after undergoing certain modifications and arrangements are finally decomposed. Of the force thus set free a part makes its appearance as heat, maintaining an even temperature in the body, and another part supplies the power by virtue of which the muscles, &c., act. No manifestation of animal life is possible except by force thus set free. It seems all but certain that we cannot think a single thought without the decomposition of an equivalent amount of the brain. It must not, however, be concluded that force and life are identical. Force seems to be only the instrument of which the higher principle of life makes use in its manifestations.
Force then pervades the whole universe so far as it is cognizable by our senses. But we cannot conceive of force as acting, without at the same time conceiving of something on which that force acts. That something, whatever it may be, we designate "matter." We have not the slightest idea of what matter really is—no man has ever yet succeeded in separating it from its combination with force. Even if success were possible, which seems very improbable, it is not likely that matter by itself would be discernible by any of our senses. We know that two of them, sight and hearing, enable us to perceive certain kinds of motion, i. e. manifestations of force, and this is in all probability the case with the rest of them. The existence of matter then is not known by scientific proof but by inference. Our belief in it arises from something in the constitution of our minds which makes it a necessary inference.
There is one more point in reference to force which must be noticed. It is indestructible, but it is capable of what is termed "degradation." It may exist in various intensities and quantities, and a small quantity of force of a higher intensity may be changed into a larger quantity of force at a lower intensity. In the instance above given of the union of oxygen and hydrogen, heat is given out, but heat does not suffice to dissolve that union. The force must be supplied in the more intense form of Voltaic Electricity. But to reverse this process seems impossible for us. As, however, this is clearly explained in a previous volume of this series, [Footnote: Can we Believe in Miracles? p. 152.] it is not necessary to dwell upon it at length.
We may conclude then that the whole material universe is built up of matter and force in various combinations, but we can form no conception of what these two things are in themselves; they are only known to us by the effects produced by their union in various proportions.
"In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.
"And the earth was desolate and void, and darkness upon the face of the deep."
These words carry us back to a time indefinitely remote. Eternity and Infinity are ideas which we cannot grasp, and yet we cannot avoid them. If we stretch our imagination to conceive of the most distant possible period of time—the farthest point of space— still we feel that there must have been something before the one, that there must be something beyond the other; and yet we cannot conceive of that which has no beginning, or no boundaries. The first verse marks out for us as it were a definite portion of this limitless ocean. "In the beginning," is the point from which time begins to run—"the heavens and the earth," the visible universe beyond which our investigations cannot extend. Whether other manifestations of God have taken place in Eternity, or other systems of worlds now exist in infinity, we are not told.
The heavens and the earth then are to be considered as comprising the visible universe, sun, moon, and stars, and their concomitants, which the eye surveys, or which scientific research brings to our knowledge. All are comprehended in this one group by Moses, and recent spectroscopic investigations teach us that one general character pervades the whole. Every star whose light is powerful enough to be analyzed, is now known to comprehend in its materials a greater or less number of those elementary substances of which the earth and the sun are composed. Whether any of these worlds were called into perfect existence at once, or whether they all passed through various stages of development, we are not told, that in some of them the process of development is only commencing, while in others various stages of it are in progress, is, as will be seen presently, highly probable. But the narrative takes no farther notice of anything beyond our own group of worlds, and proceeds to describe the condition of the earth (probably including the whole solar system) at the time at which it commences. Its words imply such a state of things as corresponds to what has been said in the preceding section of matter, apart from force. No better words could probably have been chosen for the purpose. The only word which seems to convey any definite idea is in the following clause, where water is mentioned. Until force was in operation water could not exist. Probably St. Augustine's interpretation is the correct one—the confused mass is called alternately earth and water, because though it was as yet neither one thing nor the other, it contained the elements of both. And the word "water" expressed its plastic character. ("De Genesi ad Literam" Liber Imperfectus, Section 13, 14.)
One other important point in these words is, that they negative the eternal existence of matter. The second verse describes it as existing, because it had been called into existence at the bidding of an Almighty Creator, as described in the first verse.
"And the Spirit of God (was) brooding upon the face of the water.
"And God said, 'Let light be' and light was.
"And God saw the light that it was good, and God divided the light from the darkness.
"And God called the light Day, and the darkness He called Night.
"And there was evening and there was morning, one day."
The first clause seems to belong rather to the period of action than to the precedent indefinite period of chaos, and may therefore be taken as marking the transition from the "beginning" to the first day, better than as belonging to that beginning itself. The Jewish interpretation of the clause is untenable in the light of the doctrine of the Correlation of the Physical Forces. Till force was evolved there could be neither air nor motion, and so no wind. The words of course bear on their face an assertion of the action of the eternal Spirit in the work of Creation; but when we examine the position which they occupy, it seems highly probable that they have beyond this a much more definite signification. In them a sort of localized action is ascribed to the Spirit—a something very different from the idea conveyed by the often-repeated phrase, "And God said." What that something may be it is hard for us to conceive, harder still to express, but the following considerations may perhaps throw some glimmering of light upon the matter:—
1. There must be some point in which the Creator comes into contact, as it were, with His creature—a point at which His Will first clothes itself in the form of a physical fact—the point to which all second causes lead up, and at which they lose themselves in the one first cause, the Will of God. Now this is what all systems of philosophy require as their starting-point, but it is entirely out of their unaided reach. But these words supply that indispensable desideratum.
2. These words come in immediate connexion with the evolution of light. Light is throughout the Bible intimately connected with the Deity. It is His chosen emblem. "God is light." It is His abode. "He dwelleth in the light inaccessible." It is the symbol of His presence, and the means by which Creation is quickened. "In Him was life; and the life was the light of men."
3. Light, as we now know, is only one form of the force by which the universe is upheld. But the phenomena of light lead us to infer the existence of what we call Ether, which is supposed to be a perfectly elastic fluid, imponderable, and in fact exempt from almost all the conditions to which matter, as we know it, is subject, except that POSSIBLY it offers resistance to bodies moving in it. [Footnote: Encke's comet shows signs of retardation, as if moving in a resisting medium; but it is possible that that resistance may not arise from the ether, but from the nebulous envelope of the sun.] This fluid must pervade the whole universe, since it brings to us the light of the most distant star or nebula. As it is the medium through which light is conveyed, and as light is now known to be identified with force of all kinds, it seems by no means improbable that it is the medium through which all force acts.
These words, then, seem to suggest the idea that the brooding of the Spirit may have some connexion with the formation of that ether which is indispensable to the manifestation of light, and probably to the operations of all force; and that, if so, the ether may also be the point at which, and the medium through which, Spirit acts upon Matter. On the one hand, the facts that force, as used, is constantly in process of degradation, and that it is also constantly poured forth into space from the Sun and Planets in the shape of heat, and so lost to our system, seem to indicate that fresh supplies of it are continually needed; while, on the other hand, the supply of that need seems to be implied in the words, "By Him all things consist." "Upholding all things by the word of His Power."
If this be so, we have a point up to which natural laws may possibly be traced, but at which they merge in the action of the Will of God, which is beyond our investigation. Here, then, is a solution of that great difficulty, which those who are most familiar with the laws of nature have felt in reconciling the existence of those laws with a particular Providence and with the efficacy of Prayer, since we have here the point at which all forces and all laws begin to act, and at which, therefore, the amount of the force, and the direction of its action, are capable of unlimited modification, without any alteration of, or interference with, the laws by which that action is regulated, and consequently without the danger of introducing confusion into the Universe.
"And God said, 'Let light be' and light was." It has already been pointed out that these words differ from those used in describing any other creative act. They are the only ones which seem to imply an instantaneous fulfilment of the command. Another matter which has long since been observed, is their exact harmony with what science teaches us respecting the nature of light. Light is not a material substance, but a "mode of motion." It consists of very small undulations propagated with inconceivable velocity. Hence of it, and of it alone, it could not be correctly said that it was created. To say that God made light would be inexact. The words which are used exactly suit the circumstances of the case. But the discovery of the correlation of forces has given to these words a much more extended significance, while at the same time it furnishes a satisfactory reason for their occurrence at this particular point. So long as they were supposed to refer to light simply, they seemed out of place. Light was not apparently needed till there were organisms to whose existence it was essential. But we now know that to call forth light, was to call force in all its modifications into action. It has been seen that matter and force are the two elements out of which everything that is discernible by our senses is built up. The formation of matter has already been described in the original act of creation. But till force also was evolved, matter must of necessity remain in that chaotic state to which verse 2 refers. To matter is now added that which was required to enable the progressive work of Creation to be carried on. The first result of this would probably be that the force of gravitation would begin to act, while, from what the telescope reveals to us, we may conjecture, that at the same time the whole incoherent mass would be permeated with light and heat, and some, at all events, of those elementary substances with which chemistry makes us acquainted would be developed, and the whole mass, acted upon by the mutual attraction of its several particles, would begin to move towards, and accumulate about its centre of gravity.
It has been shown that Laplace's Nebular Hypothesis, when substituted for the action of a Creator, broke down in three important points. Of these the first two were, that it failed to give any account of the origin of matter, and of the first commencement of the action of Gravitation. These two defects are completely supplied by the first three verses of Genesis. We may probably see in the "Great Nebula" in Orion an illustration of the condition of the solar system when light first made its appearance. It is very probable that that nebula has only very recently become visible. Galileo examined Orion very carefully with his newly invented telescope, but makes no mention of it. [Footnote: Webb's Celestial Objects, p. 255, note.] At present it is visible to the unaided eye even in England, where the atmospheric conditions and its low altitude are alike unfavourable. In Italy, where the atmosphere is remarkably pure, and the meridian altitude is greater by 7 1/2 degrees, it must be a conspicuous object, and had it been so at the time when Galileo was observing the constellation, it could hardly have failed to attract his attention. It was, however, noticed in 1618. It is a vast, shapeless mass, having its boundaries in some parts tolerably well defined, while in other directions it fades away imperceptibly; its light is very faint, and when examined by the spectroscope is found to proceed from a gaseous source. Professor Secchi has traced it through an extent of 5 degrees. When it is remembered that at such a distance the semi-diameter of the earth's orbit subtends an angle less than 1 inch, some idea of the enormous extent of this mass of gas may be formed. Drawings of it have been made from time to time by our most distinguished astronomers, which are found to differ considerably. Great allowance must, of course, be made for differences in the telescopic power employed, and in the visual powers of the several observers, but the differences in the drawings seem too great to be explained by those sources of inaccuracy alone, and actual change in the nebula is therefore strongly suspected. Another nebula of similar character, in which changes are suspected, is that which surrounds the star A in the constellation Argo. This is being very carefully watched through the great telescope recently erected at Melbourne, and from the observations made there, it is probable that fresh light may soon be thrown on the subject.
The next act recorded is, that "God divided the light from the darkness." This is one of those passages which we are very apt to pass over as unimportant, without giving ourselves any trouble to ascertain what they mean, or asking if they may not give valuable information, or supply some important hints. It is evident, however, that in these words some act of the Creator is implied, but when we inquire what that act was, the answer does not lie immediately on the surface. Darkness is simply the absence of light. It cannot therefore be said that God divided the light from the darkness in the same sense in which it is said that "a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats". Between light and darkness that division exists in the very nature of things, and it could not therefore be said to be made by a definite act. Nor again, is there any sharp well-defined boundary set between light and darkness, so that we can say, "Here light begins, here darkness ends." The very opposite is the case, the one blends imperceptibly into the other. This then cannot be the meaning of the words. But the next verse guides us to the real meaning. "And God called the light Day, and the darkness He called Night." The division of light from darkness then is the alternation of night and day. When God divided the light from the darkness He made provision for that alternation. But we know that that alternation is the result of the earth's rotation upon its axis, so that the dividing the light from the darkness evidently implies the communication to the accumulated mass of the motion of rotation.
It does not clearly appear in the account of the first day, whether this alternation of day and night took effect immediately. Certainly the introduction of it here does not prove that it did so follow. For there was no way in which the fact of the earth's rotation could be directly communicated to those for whom the narrative was primarily intended. They were ignorant of the spherical form of the earth, and so could not have attached any idea whatever to a statement that it revolved about its axis.
The only way then in which Moses could speak of that rotation was in connexion with some phenomenon resulting from it. The only such phenomenon with which the Jews were acquainted was the alternation of day and night. There was therefore no way in which Moses could record the fact except with reference to this ultimate effect. It does not follow that that effect was immediate. Beside the rotation of the earth, another condition is required. The light must come from a single source, and so when the act is recorded by which that condition is effected, the division of light and darkness is again noticed. The sun and the moon are set in the firmament of heaven to divide the light from the darkness. But that division was potentially effected when the motion of rotation was given.
The third defect noticed in the Nebular Hypothesis was, that it did not account for this motion of rotation. This defect, then, like the two preceding ones, is supplied by the Mosaic Record, and the hypothesis thus supplemented becomes complete. It is capable of giving a satisfactory account of the phenomena to which it applies. But as it is only a theory, and only points out a way in which the universe might have been constructed, it does not in itself exclude the possibility that some other plan might in fact have been adopted, and we have now to examine into the reasons for supposing that it was the method which was actually employed. These divide themselves into two classes:—those which render it probable that similar processes are now in progress; and those which render it probable that the solar system has passed through such a process.
It has already been pointed out that the great nebulae in Orion and Argo seem to represent the condition of our system on the first appearance of light, and that changes are strongly suspected to be taking place in both; but we cannot expect to trace any single nebula through the stages of its development, since that development must occupy untold ages. All we can do is to inquire if there are other nebulas which seem to be in more advanced stages. It must at once be recognized, that if this be one of the processes now going on, it is not the only one. There are many nebulas "which have assumed forms for which the law of gravitation, as we know it, will not enable us to account—such as the Ring Nebula in Lyra, the Dumb-bell Nebula in Vulpecula, or the double Horseshoe in Scutum Sobieski. But some nebulas can be found which arrange themselves so as to illustrate the stages through which we may suppose our world to have passed. These are chiefly to be found among the planetary nebulse, which in a small telescope exhibit a faint circular disc, but in larger instruments frequently show considerable varieties of structure. Some of them present the appearance of a condensation of light in the centre, which gradually fades off; in others there is a bright ring surrounding the central spot, but separated from it by a darker space. The Nebula Andromeda 49647, [Footnote: The numbers are those given by Sir J. Hersohel.] as seen in Mr. Lassel's four-foot reflector appears as a luminous spot, surrounded by two luminous rings, which, in the more powerful instrument of Lord Bosse, combine into a spiral. Its spectrum is gaseous, with one line indicating some element unknown to us. In another nebula, Draco 4373, there is a double spectrum, the one gaseous, indicating the presence of hydrogen, nitrogen, and barium; the other, apparently from the nucleus, continuous, and so representing a solid or fluid mass, but so faint that the lines belonging to particular elements cannot be distinguished. [Footnote: Hugging, Philosophical Transactions, 1864.] Bridanus 846, and Andromeda 116, are probably similar nebulee occupying different positions with reference to us. They both give a continuous spectrum. The one in Bridanus is described as "an eleventh magnitude star, standing in the centre of a circular nebula, itself placed centrally on a larger and fainter circle of hazy light." [Footnote: Lassell, quoted in Webb's "Celestial Objects," p. 227.] The nebula in Andromeda assumes a lenticular form; that in Bridanus would probably present the same appearance if we saw it edge-ways. The former has probably increased in brilliancy in the course of centuries. Mr. Webb remarks of it, "It is so plain to the naked eye that it is strange the ancients scarcely mention it." [Footnote: Webb's "Celestial Objects," p. 180.] In these two nebulas we may perhaps see the mass ready to break up into separate worlds, the lenticular form being a natural result of extremely rapid rotation. Prom the fact that Andromeda 116 gives a continuous spectrum, Dr. Huggins inclines to the belief that it is an unresolved star cluster. But the reasons which led Sir W. Herschel to conclude that the nebula in Orion was gaseous, (a conclusion which, though for a time discredited by the supposed resolution of the nebula in Lord Kosse's telescope, was ultimately found to be correct), are equally applicable here. In general a certain proportion exists between the telescopic power requisite to render a star cluster visible as a nebulous spot, and that which will resolve it into stars; but this nebula, like that in Orion, though visible to the naked eye, cannot be resolved by the most powerful instruments yet made. And the nebula in Draco 4373, seems to present an intermediate stage between the purely gaseous nebula and this one. The faint continuous spectrum is probably the result of incipient central condensation. This nebula, if recent observations by Mr. Gill, of Aberdeen, are confirmed [Footnote: Popular Science Review, 1871, p. 426.], is much nearer to us than any of the fixed stars.
"We come now to the reasons derived from the Solar System itself, and of these there are several, some of them of considerable weight. The first is to be found in the uniform direction of almost all the motions of the system. They are from west to east. The sun rotates upon his axis, the planets revolve about the sun and rotate upon their axes, and the satellites, with one exception, revolve about their primaries, and, so far as is known, rotate upon their axes in the same direction, from west to east, and the motions take place very nearly in the same plane—the ecliptic. This seems to point to the conclusion that these motions have a common origin, as would be the case if all these bodies at one time existed as a single mass which revolved in the same direction. The one exception is to be found in the satellites of Uranus, whose motion is retrograde. But there are certain phenomena, which lead to the conclusion, that, on the outskirts of our system, there has at some time or other been an action of a disturbing force, of which, except from these results, we know nothing."
[Footnote: Bode's "Law of Planetary Distances," What holds good as far as Uranus, breaks down in the case of Neptune. Both Leverrier and Adams were to some extent misled by this law. The new planet should according to their calculations, based on this law, have been of greater magnitude and at a greater distance than Neptune.
The polar axis of Uranus, instead of being nearly perpendicular to the ecliptic, as in the case of all the other planets (except Venus), is nearly coincident with it. Venus occupies an intermediate position, the inclination of its equator to its orbit being 49 degrees 58'.]
There is also strong reason for believing that the sun is still a nebulous star, that the whole of the original nebula is not yet gathered up in the vast globe which at ordinary times is all that we can see. This aspect of the case, however, will come more fully under our notice when we come to the work of the fourth day. The figure of the earth, which is that naturally assumed by a plastic mass revolving about its axis, and the traces which it retains of a former state of intense heat, are both in accordance with this theory.
When these facts are duly weighed, there seems to be a reasonable probability that this process is the one which was actually employed in the formation of the solar system. The remarkable manner in which the theory adapts itself to the Mosaic account, and the fact that that account records special interferences of the Creator exactly at the points where the theory shows that such interferences would be necessary, give rise to a very strong presumption in its favour. We have in it also a clear illustration of the combination of general laws of nature with special interferences of Creative Power—the law of gravitation was called into action, and the work would proceed steadily under that law for a considerable period, till matters were ripe for a farther stage in the progress, and then the special interference would take place, in this instance the imparting the motion of rotation, and the work would again proceed under the natural law. All this while, however, the work would be one, and performed by one power, the only difference being in the direct or indirect action of that power.
The only point an reference to the first day which remains to be inquired into is the extent to which the work had proceeded at its close. As the commencement of the second day's work implies that at that time the earth had an independent existence, we may conclude that the first day's work comprehended the casting off of the several successive rings, and the condensation of those rings, or some of them, into the corresponding planets and satellites. These would probably still retain their intense heat, in virtue of which they would be luminous.
Many of the multiple stars may not improbably present to us much the same appearance as the solar system then presented. In many cases we have one large star, with one or more very minute attendants. Such a star is Orionis, a tolerably conspicuous star, which has two companions invisible to the naked eye, but visible with moderate telescopic power. (A telescope of 2.1 inches aperture, by Cooke, shows them well.) Five more companions are visible in a 4-inch telescope. In the large telescope at Harvard no less than 35 minute stars have been seen in apparent connexion with the brilliant star Vega. In all these cases it is true that the distances and periods of the companion stars are very much greater than in the case of the earth; but then our telescopes will only enable us to discern the more distant companions. Any small companion stars holding positions corresponding to those of the four interior planets, would be lost in the light of the primary star; and if, as is suspected, all the heavenly bodies are subject to some resistance, however small, from the medium in which they move, this resistance would in the course of ages diminish the mean distance, and with it the periodic time of the companion stars.
The latter part of the 5th verse has already been considered, and there is no need to recur to it at this point. At the close of the history we shall be in a better position to ascertain if any light has been thrown on that mysterious subject.
"And God said, Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters, and let it divide the waters from the waters.
"And God made the firmament, and divided the waters which were under the firmament from the waters which were above the firmament, and it was so.
"And God called the firmament Heaven, and there was evening and there was morning, a second day"
The work of the second and third days evidently has its scene on the earth alone. At its commencement the earth appears to have become distinctly separated from the gradually condensing mass of the solar system, and to have assumed its spherical form. It had, in fact, acquired an independent existence; but it was still in a chaotic state. Its elements, which were hereafter to assume the three forms of solid, fluid, and gas, seem to have been still blended together. Of the three states, fluidity seems to have been that to which the mass most nearly approached. This seems to be indicated by the application of the term, waters, to the two parts into which it is now divided; for the Hebrew has no general word for "fluid," so that the only method of expressing it was by the use of this word "water" in an extended signification; and all scientific investigations point to the same conclusion. The heat, as yet, must have been so intense that no rocks or metals with which we are acquainted could have remained in a solid form. The sorting out and first arrangement of the materials of the earth, with probably the farther development of a large portion of them by the introduction of a new element, seems to have been the work of the second day.
When we proceed to examine the narrative more closely, two important questions suggest themselves:—l. What special interference of Creative Power does it indicate? 2. What is the meaning of the division between the waters which were above the firmament and the waters which were under the firmament?
1. What special interference of Creative Power took place on the second day? Till within the last ten years, it would have been difficult to give a satisfactory answer to this question; for if all the elements were already in existence at the commencement of the second day, their arrangement would, as it seems, have been brought about by the ordinary operation of natural laws which were already established. The cooling and condensation of a portion of the elements would have been effected by the radiation of their heat, and the portions thus condensed would, under the influence of gravitation, have arranged themselves in immediate proximity to the centre of gravity, forming a solid or fluid nucleus, round which those portions which still remained in a gaseous state would have formed an atmospheric envelope. But here again the spectroscope comes to our aid. In many of the nebulae which give in it the bright lines indicative of gas, hydrogen and nitrogen are the chief gases discovered. These must be in an incandescent state, or they would not be visible at all. But hydrogen cannot, in the present state of things, remain in this condition in contact with oxygen; it must instantly combine with it, that combination being attended with intense heat, and resulting in the production of water. The introduction of oxygen, then, must involve a very important crisis in the process of development; but that introduction must have preceded the formation of atmospheric air and water. Prior to the second day oxygen must either have been non-existent, or it must have existed in a form and under conditions very different from those under which it exists now. Free oxygen cannot be in existence in the sun or in any celestial object in which the spectroscope indicates the existence of incandescent hydrogen. The special act of the second day would appear to have consisted in the development of oxygen, or the calling it from a quiescent state into active operation.
But the effects of the new element thus called into operation would not be limited to the production of air and water. It is estimated that oxygen constitutes, by weight, nearly half of the solid crust of the earth. It forms a part of every rock and of every metallic ore. The second day, then, must have been a period of intense chemical action, resulting from the introduction of this powerful agent.
But (2) what is the meaning of the division of the waters which are above the firmament from the waters which were under the firmament? At present all the water contained in the atmosphere, in the shape of vapour and clouds, is so insignificant in comparison with that vast volume of water which not only fills the ocean, but also permeates the solid earth, that such a notice of it seems unaccountable. Mr. Goodwin, indeed, maintains that there was an ancient belief, not only that the firmament was a solid vault, but that on it there rested another ocean, at least as copious as that with which we are acquainted. [Footnote: Essays and Reviews, p. 220] In support of this assertion he brings forward the phrase, "The windows of heaven were opened" (Gen, VII. 11) and other similar expressions. But such phrases as this evidently belong to the same class as the fanciful names so often given to the clouds in the hymns of the Rig Veda. Both expressions evidently point to a time when figurative language, if no longer a necessity, was at all events a common and favourite form of speech, and was understood by all. Dr. Whewell [Footnote: Plurality of Worlds, chap. x. Section 5.] has put forward the curious notion that when the creation of the interior planets was completed, there remained a superfluity of water, which was gathered up into the four exterior planets. But the only fact in favour of such an hypothesis is the close correspondence between the apparent density of these planets and that of water. Now, as will be seen immediately, there is strong reason to believe that the true density of these planets is much greater than their apparent diameters would seem to indicate; so that the one solitary ground on which the suggestion rests vanishes when it is examined. Apart from this, however, the suggestion that there would be any superfluous material when the work of creation was finished, is a very strange one. Neither of these views, then, can be accepted as giving a satisfactory meaning to the text.
Astronomical investigations however, which have been carried on with great diligence during the last four winters, and which are still being continued with unremitting interest, have brought to light phenomena which seem to be in remarkable correspondence with the state of things spoken of in the text. It has already been noticed that the eight greater planets at present known to us are divided into two groups of four by the intervening belt of minor planets. These two groups have totally distinct characteristics. In density, magnitude, and length, of day the members of each group differ little from each other, while the two groups differ very widely. The moon is the only satellite as yet known in the inner group. The planets of the outer group are attended by at least seventeen satellites.
Of these outer planets Jupiter, from his great brilliancy, specially attracts observation, while from his comparative proximity to the earth we are enabled to examine him much more satisfactorily than we can Saturn, Uranus, or Neptune. Two facts with reference to him have long been well known, the one, that the polar compression in his case is much greater than it is in any of the interior planets, so that when seen through a telescope of very moderate power his disc is evidently elliptical, while the compression of the interior planets can only be detected by the most delicate micrometrical measurements—the other, that his apparent surface is always crossed by several alternating belts of light and shade, which though subject to constant changes of detail, always preserve the same general character. Until recently the generally received theory was that these belts consisted of clouds, raised by the heat of the sun, and arranged in zones under the influence of winds similar in character to, and produced by the same causes as, the trade-winds which blow over our own oceans. This view, however, has been shown by Mr. Proctor to be untenable. [Footnote: See a paper by Mr. Proctor in the Monthly Packet for October, 1870.]
About forty years ago, a very remarkable phenomenon was observed simultaneously, but independently, by three astronomers, Admiral Smyth, Mr. Maclean, and Mr. Pearson, who were watching a transit of Jupiter's second satellite from stations several miles apart. Admiral Smyth's account of it is as follows:—"On Thursday, the 26th of June, 1828, the moon being nearly full, and the evening extremely fine, I was watching the second satellite of Jupiter as it gradually approached to transit the disc of the planet. My instrument was an excellent refractor of 3 3/4 inches aperture, and five feet focal length, with a power of one hundred. The satellite appeared in contact at about half-past ten, and for some minutes remained on the edge of the limb, presenting an appearance not unlike that of the lunar mountains which come into view during the first quarter of the moon, until it finally disappeared on the body of the planet. At least twelve or thirteen minutes must have elapsed when, accidentally turning to Jupiter again, I perceived the same satellite outside the disc. It was in the same position as to being above a line with the lower belt, where it remained distinctly visible for at least four minutes, and then suddenly vanished." A somewhat similar phenomenon, but of shorter duration, was witnessed by Messrs. Gorton and Wray, during an occultation of the same satellite, April 26, 1863. In this case the satellite reappeared after passing behind the apparent disc of the planet. So lately as 1868 this phenomenon was regarded as inexplicable. [Footnote: Webb's Celestial Objects, p. 141.]
In the winter of 1868-9 the attention of astronomers was called to the fact that rapid and extensive changes were taking place in the appearance of Jupiter's belts, and they have consequently been watched from that time with unremitting attention by astronomers furnished with telescopes of the best quality. The results of these observations are given in two very interesting papers, communicated to the Popular Science Review, by Mr. Webb. [Footnote: Popular Science Review for April, 1870, and July, 1871.] Very curious markings and variations in the depth of shade have been seen, accompanied by equally curious changes of colour. Mr. Browning compares these changes to those which are seen when a cloud of steam of varying depth and density is illuminated from behind by a strong light, as when we look through the steam escaping from the safety-valve of a locomotive at a gas-lamp immediately behind it. This appears to be the true explanation of the phenomenon. [Footnote: Popular Science Review, 1871, p. 307.] These belts are probably due to vast masses of steam, poured forth with great force from the body of the planet. As the atmosphere of Jupiter is probably of enormous depth, the rotatory velocity of its upper portions would be much greater than that of the surface of the planet, hence the steam would arrange itself in belts parallel to the equator of the planet. But this view leads us to wonderful conclusions with reference to the condition of the planet.
"Processes of the most amazing character are taking place beneath that cloudy envelope, which forms the visible surface of the planet as seen by the terrestrial observer. The real globe of the planet would seem to be intensely heated, perhaps molten, through the fierceness of the heat which pervades it. Masses of vapour streaming continually upward from the surface of this fiery globe would be gathered at once into zones because of their rapid change of distance from the centre. That which is wholly unintelligible when we regard the surface of Jupiter as swept like our earth by polar and equatorial winds, is readily interpreted when we recognize the existence of rapidly uprushing streams of vapour." [Footnote: Mr. Proctor in Monthly Packet, October, 1870.]
Supposing then that the atmosphere of Jupiter is of very great depth, and thus laden with masses of watery vapour, the effect of a sudden current of heated, but comparatively dry, air or gas would be the immediate absorption of the whole or a large portion of the vapour, and the consequent transparency of the portion of the atmosphere affected by it. We see this result continually on a small scale in our own atmosphere, when a heavy cloud comes in contact with a warm air current, and rapidly melts away, Many of the rapid changes which have been witnessed in Jupiter's appearance are readily explained if this view is admitted. Supposing such a thing to have happened near the edge of the disc, the phenomenon recorded by Admiral Smyth is at once satisfactorily explained. When the satellite appeared to pass on to the disc, and to be lost in the light of the planet, it would for some time, proportional to the depth of Jupiter's atmosphere, have behind it a background of clouds only, it would not have entered upon the actual disc of the planet. If then these clouds were suddenly absorbed, the atmosphere behind the satellite would become transparent and invisible, the background would be gone, and the satellite would reappear. In the case of the occultation witnessed by Messrs. Gorton and Wray, the satellite would at first be hidden by cloud only, and would reappear if the cloud were removed. Such seems to be the true explanation of these hitherto mysterious phenomena. That they could not have resulted from any alteration in the motions of the planet or the satellite is evident. Such an alteration would have been instantly detected, since the places of both the planet and the satellites are computed years in advance, and any such change would at once have thrown out all these computations.
Assuming that this is the true solution of the mystery, we are enabled to form an approximate estimate of the extent of the atmosphere of Jupiter. The time between the first and second disappearances does not seem to have been accurately noted. Admiral Smyth's account makes it 16 or 17 minutes; but if we estimate it at 15 minutes only, and if we further assume that the second disappearance was upon the actual disc of Jupiter, and not upon a lower stratum of clouds, we shall be safe from any risk of exaggeration. The probability seems to be that the second disappearance was caused not by the disc, but by the formation of a fresh body of cloud, as it was not gradual, as in the first instance, but sudden. We shall then only have an estimate which cannot be greater, but may be much less, than the true value.
The mean distance of the second satellite from the centre of Jupiter is in round numbers 425,000 miles, and consequently the circumference of its orbit is 2,671,000 miles. The satellite travels through this orbit in about 86 hours, which gives a horary velocity of 31,400 miles, or 7850 miles in 15 minutes. This then is the least possible depth of the atmosphere of Jupiter. [Footnote: For the direction of the motion of the satellite would be at right angles to the line of sight.] The whole diameter of Jupiter, atmosphere and all, is 85,390 miles. Deduct from this 15,700 miles for the atmosphere, and we have for the diameter of the solid nucleus rather less than 70,000 miles. The height of the atmosphere is therefore not less than three-fourteenths of the radius of the planet, and may be much greater. The extent of the atmosphere, combined with the rapidity of rotation, accounts satisfactorily for the great apparent polar compression of the planet. Another inference is that the density of the planet must exceed the ordinary estimate in the proportion of two to one.
But next, the atmosphere of Jupiter is probably of very great density. Dr. Huggins states that he has observed in the spectrum of Jupiter "three or four strong lines, one of them coincident with a strong line in the earth's atmosphere." [Footnote: Lecture at Manchester, November 16, 1870.] Strong lines mark increased density in the absorbent medium, and lines hitherto unobserved indicate new elements. It is therefore probable that the atmosphere of Jupiter is not only much more dense than that of the earth, but also contains some elements—which are absent from the latter. When with this fact we connect the very great extent of the atmosphere, it will be evident that the pressure at the surface of the planet will be enormous, and from this we can form an estimate of the intensity of the forces which must be at work in the interior of the planet, to project jets of vapour through such an atmosphere to so great a height.
The link which connects Jupiter with the earth, in the second stage of its existence, is the mention by Moses of the "waters which were above the firmament." Viewed in the light of the present condition of the earth such a notice seems unaccountable. But if the earth at that time were in a condition similar to that in which Jupiter appears to be now, the water in the atmosphere or above the firmament would be a very important element in any description that might be given of it. It is in fact most probable that all the water (in the strict sense of the word) then in existence would be in a state of vapour, and that the waters which were under the firmament were the molten materials which afterwards formed rocks and ores, since, as has been already noticed, the word is the only one which could be employed to describe fluids in general.
We may now try to form some idea of the probable state of the earth at this period. Its centre would be occupied by a fused mass, in which were blended all the more intractable solid constituents of the present world. This would be surrounded by an atmosphere of very great height and density, containing not only all the present constituents of air, but also all, or nearly all, the water, and all the more volatile of the metals and other elements. Carbonic acid, to a very large extent, would probably be present, and a very considerable proportion of the oxygen which now exists in combination with various bases, and forms by weight so large a proportion of the solid crust of the world.
Owing to the intense heat, chemical combinations would readily be formed between the ingredients of the fused mass and the other elements which existed in the form of vapour, and thus the earliest of the vast variety of existing minerals would be elaborated. The volumes of steam which floated in the upper regions of the atmosphere would rapidly part with their heat by radiation into space, and would descend towards the surface of the earth in the form of rain. At first probably, and for a long time, they would not reach the surface, but as they approached it would be again converted into vapour, and re-ascend to pass again and again through the same process. But by this means the intense heat of the nucleus would be gradually conveyed away, till the cooling reached a point at which some of the superficial materials would assume a solid form. It is by no means certain what is the true primary rock—for a long time it was almost universally assumed to be granite, since granite is uniformly found underlying the oldest sedimentary rocks that are known. But as these rocks have been forced from their original position and tilted up, the underlying stratum may probably be of later date than the upper ones, since it was the elevating agent. So that we can have no certain knowledge on this point, since the earliest sedimentary strata, wherever they retain their original position, must be at a depth far below the reach of man. If, however, Sir C. Kyell's view of the conditions requisite for the formation of granite are correct, these conditions [Footnote: Student's Geology, chap. xxxi.]—heat, moisture, and enormous pressure—would all be present at the surface of the nucleus. Some kind of solid floor must have been formed before the next stage could be reached, at which it would be possible for water to exist in a fluid state. This, however, would be possible at a much higher temperature than at present, owing to the enormous atmospheric pressure. It is possible now, by artificial means, to raise water, nearly if not quite, to a red heat, without the formation of steam, and the pressure of the atmosphere in the case supposed would, in all probability, be much greater than any which we can now apply under the conditions necessary for heating the water.
It is probable that at this point the close of the second day must be placed: but the indications of the narrative do not enable us to fix it with any degree of certainty. As, however, from this point a new series of processes would commence, and those processes are in intimate connexion with the first of the two developments ascribed to the third day, the period when water could first maintain a fluid form on the earth's surface, seems to present the most probable line of demarcation.
"And God said, Let the waters under the Heaven be gathered together in one place, and let the dry land appear; and it was so.
"And God called the dry land Earth, and the gathering together of the waters called He Seas, and God saw that it was good.
"And God said, Let the earth sprout sprouts, the herb seeding seed, and the fruit-tree yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in it, [Footnote: "It" seems preferable to "itself" here. The same Hebrew word stands for both, but if the "fruit-tree" be taken as the antecedent, which it must be if we translate "itself," there seems no meaning in the statement. If we read "it," the pronoun will refer to the fruit—"the tree whose seed is in its fruit"—which gives an intelligible sense.] upon the earth, and it was so.
"And the earth caused to go forth sprouts, the herb seeding seed, and the fruit-tree yielding fruit whose seed is in it, after his kind, and God saw that it was good. And there was evening, and there was morning, a third day."
The record of the third day is a very important one, because it is the first point at which the Mosaic Record comes in contact with that other record which is written in the rocks. Up to this time we have only been able to compare the statements of Moses with conjectural views of the earliest condition of the earth, which, though they may be highly probable, are at best only conjectures. But from this point we have to deal with a number of ascertained facts—certain landmarks stand out which enable us to fix the correspondent parts of the two narratives, and guide us to the identification and interpretation of their minor details.
The first of these landmarks is the appearance of the dry land, or, in geological language, the commencement of the process of upheaval. At the close of the second day the earth was, in all probability, as we have seen, a globe internally molten, but having a solid crust which was uniformly covered with a layer of water, and surrounded by an atmosphere which, though it had parted with some of its ingredients, was still very much more complex, more dense, and more extensive than it is at present. The newly condensed waters would rest on the surface of the primeval rock, whatever that rock might be. The internal heat conducted through it would keep the waters in a state of intense ebullition, and at the same time their surface would be agitated by violent atmospheric currents as the heated air ascended, and was replaced by cooler air from the outer regions of the atmosphere. Under these circumstances the water would dissolve or wear down portions of the newly-formed rock on which it rested. At the same time the steam, which would be continually rising from the boiling ocean, would descend from the upper regions of the atmosphere in the form of rain, and bring with it in solution considerable quantities of those elements which still existed in the form of vapour, just as rain now brings down ammonia and carbonic acid which it has absorbed in its passage through the atmosphere. New combinations would thus be formed between the materials dissolved or abraded by the ocean and those brought down by the rain. When these combinations had reached a certain amount they would be deposited in the form of mud upon the bed of the ocean, and thus the earliest sedimentary rocks would be formed. As the temperature gradually decreased, the character of these combinations would probably be changed, and at the same time the atmosphere would be diminished in volume and density, and become more pure by the absorption of a large portion of its original constituents, which would have been incorporated into various minerals.
The earliest sedimentary rock with which we are acquainted at present is what is known as the Laurentian formation. [Footnote: The whole of the geological details in this section are taken from Sir C. Lyell's Geology for Students.] It occupies an area of 200,000 square miles north of the St. Lawrence; and is also traced into the United States and the western highlands of Scotland and some of the adjacent isles. It is divided into two sections—the Upper and Lower Laurentian. It is not certain that it is really the oldest rock; for as every sedimentary rock is formed of the debris of preceding rocks, it is very possible that all the exposed portions of some older rocks may have been decomposed and worn away; but it is the oldest yet known. The thickness of the lower portion is estimated at 20,000 feet, or nearly four miles, while the Upper Laurentian beds are 10,000 feet thick. At this point we meet with the first traces of that process of upheaval and subsidence which has ever since been going on in the earth. The Lower Laurentian rocks had been displaced from their original horizontal position before the Upper Laurentian were deposited upon them.
This process of upheaval of some parts of the earth, accompanied with subsidence in other parts, is one which cannot be accounted for by any natural laws with which we are acquainted. It is in all probability the result of a series of changes which are taking place in the interior of the earth, but of which we know nothing at all. It is in the commencement of this series of changes that we trace that direct interference of the Creator—which is indicated by the command, "Let the waters under the firmament be gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear." We have not, however, any means of ascertaining how long a period elapsed before the process of upheaval reached the point at which the land would rise above the surface of the ocean.
The Lower Laurentian rocks are remarkable in another way. There is little doubt that traces of life, the earliest yet known, occur in them. They include a bed of limestone varying in thickness from 700 to 1500 feet. In all probability limestone, wherever it occurs, is an animal product, though in many cases all traces of its organization have been lost by exposure to heat. This particular bed appears to have been formed by a very lowly creature, which in organization was akin to the foraminifera, of which large quantities are now known to exist at the bottom of the Atlantic. It differed from them, however, in one respect—the individuals were connected together, as is the case now with many varieties of the coral animal. No notice of this first appearance of life is found in the Mosaic Record, nor, for reasons already given, was it possible that any mention of it should be made.
The rocks which come next to the Laurentian in the order of time are those known as the Cambrian. They are so called because they constitute a large portion of the mountains of North Wales, and it was there that their characteristics were first carefully studied by Professor Sedgwick. In one of the strata of this formation—the Harlech Grit—what are known as "ripple-marks" are found, proving that parts of these rocks at the time of their deposition formed a sea-beach, and that consequently at this time, at the latest, the dry land had emerged from the ocean. In these rocks there are also decided traces of Volcanic Action, which seem to indicate the existence of a Volcano similar to the recent "Graham's Island." At this point a considerable advance in animal life is found. The fossils comprise several corals, varieties of mollusca, and a class of crustaceans peculiar to the very early rocks—the trilobites.
On the Cambrian rocks rest the formations known as Silurian, from the fact that they were first thoroughly examined in South Wales (Siluria) by Sir E. Murchison. In these rocks many fresh varieties of invertebrate fossils are found, and the vertebrata make their first appearance, numerous remains of fishes having been discovered. The earliest specimen was found in the Lower Ludlow beds at Leintwardine, while the Upper Ludlow formation contains an extensive bed composed almost entirely of fish-bones. Immediately above this bed are found what seem to be traces of land-plants, in the shape of the spores of a cryptogamous plant.
The Silurian rocks are succeeded by rocks which present two distinct characters, but are probably contemporaneous, the Devonian and the old Red Sandstone. The former seem to have been deposited in the bed of the sea, while the latter is a fresh-water formation. In these decided remains of land plants are found, of which about 200 species have at present been discovered. The old Red Sandstone is also peculiarly rich in fossil fish. The first signs of coal appear in this series of rocks, but on a very small scale.
We now come to what are known as the Carboniferous rocks, of which the lower series is known as the mountain limestone, and above it come the "coal measures," containing numerous beds of coal, sometimes of great thickness. These beds have resulted entirely from the decomposition, under peculiar circumstances, of an enormous development of terrestrial vegetation. They seem to have originated in vast swamps, subject to occasional flooding, and to alternate movements of upheaval and subsidence. On these swamps there must have existed for ages a vegetation of whose luxuriance the richest tropical jungles of the present time can give us no idea. They tell the tale of a time when the temperature of the earth, was uniformly high (since coal fields are found in high northern latitudes), when the atmosphere was charged with moisture, and probably contained a large proportion of carbonic acid. In the coal measures we come upon the first traces of land animals. Several remains of reptiles have been found, as well as footprints left on the soft mud or sand of a riverbank or sea- beach. There seems to be no doubt that they were left by lung- breathing animals.
The carboniferous strata form the second of our landmarks. They seem to point to the fulfilment of the command that the earth, should bring forth vegetation. There is, however, one point which requires some notice. The Mosaic account, as we read it in our English Bibles, seems to be limited to phanerogamous plants— grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit-tree yielding fruit. Now, it is a well-known fact that the great mass of the vegetation, the remains of which constitute coal, consisted of cryptogamic plants, which do not produce seed, properly so called, but only spores; the distinction being that the spore contains the germ and nothing more, while in the seed the germ is provided with a store of nutriment to assist in the earlier stages of the development of the plant. What appears to be a farther discrepancy, the absence of any traces of the grasses, leads in reality to the solution of the difficulty.
The word which is translated "grass" [Hebrew script] means in reality, any fresh sprout. Now it is remarkable that Moses specifies three kinds of vegetation, with regard to two of which it is noted that they produce seed, while nothing is said of the seed of the remaining class. Grass too, is really a herb bearing seed, and, as such would be included in the second class, and there would have been no occasion, to mention it separately. It would appear then that the first class consisted of seedless plants, i. e. of the cryptogamia. This conclusion is strengthened when we turn to verses 29 and 30. If the word [Hebrew script] were correctly translated "grass," we should certainly expect to find it in those verses, since the grasses contribute more to the food of both man and beast, than all the other herbaceous plants put together. This omission then, is an indication that the word, as used in this chapter, denotes a class of plants which are not commonly employed for food, and this condition also is fulfilled in the cryptogamia.
There are then four special points in this period, of which two seem to correspond with the Mosaic record, while the other two are unnoticed in it. The two points of correspondence are the upheaval of the dry land, and the prevalence of a very abundant and luxuriant Flora. As in the case of the fifth and sixth days, the words used with reference to land plants seem to denote a period of remarkable development, rather than the first appearance. The two points unnoticed are the beginnings of animal and vegetable life. In the case of animal life the omission has already been accounted for. The beginning of vegetable life was probably contemporaneous with that of animal life, for each is necessary to the other, since the food of the animal must be prepared by the vegetable, and after being used by the former returns to a state in which it is fitted for the nourishment of the latter. As animal life commenced in the ocean, so in all probability did vegetable life, though no certain traces of it are found in the earliest rocks; but this is easily accounted for by the very perishable character of the simpler forms of algae. Like the earliest animals, the first algae were probably microscopic plants, and the omission of any mention of them was therefore inevitable.