conditions. At one early age, if there was any dry land at all, it was
perhaps enveloped in an atmosphere unfit for the existence of terrestrial
animals, and which had to go though some changes before that condition
was altered. In the carbonigenous era, dry land seems to have consisted
only of clusters of islands, and the temperature was much above what now
obtains at the same places. Volcanic forces, and perhaps also the
disintegrating power, seem to have been on the decrease since the first,
or we have at least long enjoyed an exemption from such paroxysms of the
former, as appear to have prevailed at the close of the coal formation in
England and throughout the tertiary era. The surface has also undergone
a gradual progress by which it has become always more and more
variegated, and thereby fitted for the residence of a higher class of
animals.
In pursuing the progress of the development of both plants and animals
upon the globe, we have seen an advance in both cases, along the line
leading to the higher forms of organization. Amongst plants, we have
first sea-weeds, afterwards land plants; and amongst these the simpler
(cellular and cryptogamic) before the more complex. In the department of
zoology, we see zoophytes, radiata, mollusca, articulata, existing for
ages before there were any higher forms. The first step forward gives
fishes, the humblest class of the vertebrata; and, moreover, the earliest
fishes partake of the character of the next lowest sub-kingdom, the
articulata. Afterwards come land animals, of which the first are
reptiles, universally allowed to be the type next in advance from fishes,
and to be connected with these by the links of an insensible gradation.
From reptiles we advance to birds, and thence to mammalia, which are
commenced by marsupialia, acknowledgedly low forms in their class. That
there is thus a progress of some kind, the most superficial glance at the
geological history is sufficient to convince us. Indeed the doctrine of
the gradation of animal forms has received a remarkable support from the
discoveries of this science, as several types formerly wanting to a
completion of the series have been found in a fossil state. {149}
It is scarcely less evident, from the geological record, that the
progress of organic life has observed some correspondence with the
progress of physical conditions on the surface. We do not know for
certain that the sea, at the time when it supported radiated, molluscous,
and articulated families, was incapable of supporting fishes; but causes
for such a limitation are far from inconceivable. The huge saurians
appear to have been precisely adapted to the low muddy coasts and sea
margins of the time when they flourished. Marsupials appear at the time
when the surface was generally in that flat, imperfectly variegated state
in which we find Australia, the region where they now live in the
greatest abundance, and one which has no higher native mammalian type.
Finally, it was not till the land and sea had come into their present
relations, and the former, in its principal continents, had acquired the
irregularity of surface necessary for man, that man appeared. We have
likewise seen reason for supposing that land animals could not have lived
before the carbonigenous era, owing to the great charge of carbonic acid
gas presumed to have been contained in the atmosphere down to that time.
The surplus of this having gone, as M. Brogniart suggests, to form the
vegetation, whose ruins became coal, and the air being thus brought to
its present state, land animals immediately appeared. So also,
sea-plants were at first the only specimens of vegetation, because there
appears to have been no place where other plants could be produced or
supported. Land vegetation followed, at first simple, afterwards
complex, probably in conformity with an advance of the conditions
required by the higher class of plants. In short, we see everywhere
throughout the geological history, strong traces of a parallel advance of
the physical conditions and the organic forms.
In examining the fossils of the lower marine creation, with a reference
to the kind of rock in connexion, with which they are found, it is
observed that some strata are attended by a much greater abundance of
both species and individuals than others. They abound most in calcareous
rocks, which is precisely what might be expected, since lime is necessary
for the formation of the shells of the mollusks and articulata, and the
hard substance of the crinoidea and corals; next in the carboniferous
series; next in the tertiary; next in the new red sandstone; next in
slates; and lastly, least of all, in the primary rocks. {151} This may
have been the case without regard to the origination of new species, but
more probably it was otherwise; or why, for instance, should the
polypiferous zoophyta be found almost exclusively in the limestones?
There are, indeed, abundant appearances as if, throughout all the changes
of the surface, the various kinds of organic life invariably _pressed
in_, immediately on the specially suitable conditions arising, so that no
place which could support any form of organic being might be left for any
length of time unoccupied. Nor is it less remarkable how various species
are withdrawn from the earth, when the proper conditions for their
particular existence are changed. The trilobite, of which fifty species
existed during the earlier formations, was extirpated before the
secondary had commenced, and appeared no more. The ammonite does not
appear above the chalk. The species, and even genera of all the early
radiata and mollusks were exchanged for others long ago. Not one species
of any creature which flourished before the tertiary (Ehrenberg’s
infusoria excepted) now exists; and of the mammalia which arose during
that series, many forms are altogether gone, while of others we have now
only kindred species. Thus to find not only frequent additions to the
previously existing forms, but frequent withdrawals of forms which had
apparently become inappropriate—a constant shifting as well as advance—is
a fact calculated very forcibly to arrest attention.
A candid consideration of all these circumstances can scarcely fail to
introduce into our minds a somewhat different idea of organic creation
from what has hitherto been generally entertained. That God created
animated beings, as well as the terraqueous theatre of their being, is a
fact so powerfully evidenced, and so universally received, that I at once
take it for granted. But in the particulars of this so highly supported
idea, we surely here see cause for some re-consideration. It may now be
inquired,—In what way was the creation of animated beings effected? The
ordinary notion may, I think, be not unjustly described as this,—that the
Almighty author produced the progenitors of all existing species by some
sort of personal or immediate exertion. But how does this notion comport
with what we have seen of the gradual advance of species, from the
humblest to the highest? How can we suppose an immediate exertion of
this creative power at one time to produce zoophytes, another time to add
a few marine mollusks, another to bring in one or two conchifers, again
to produce crustaceous fishes, again perfect fishes, and so on to the
end? This would surely be to take a very mean view of the Creative
Power—to, in short, anthropomorphize it, or reduce it to some such
character as that borne by the ordinary proceedings of mankind. And yet
this would be unavoidable; for that the organic creation was thus
progressive through a long space of time, rests on evidence which nothing
can overturn or gainsay. Some other idea must then be come to with
regard to _the mode_ in which the Divine Author proceeded in the organic
creation. Let us seek in the history of the earth’s formation for a new
suggestion on this point. We have seen powerful evidence, that the
construction of this globe and its associates, and inferentially that of
all the other globes of space, was the result, not of any immediate or
personal exertion on the part of the Deity, but of natural laws which are
expressions of his will. What is to hinder our supposing that the
organic creation is also a result of natural laws, which are in like
manner an expression of his will? More than this, the fact of the
cosmical arrangements being an effect of natural laws is a powerful
argument for the organic arrangements being so likewise, for how can we
suppose that the august Being who brought all these countless worlds into
form by the simple establishment of a natural principle flowing from his
mind, was to interfere personally and specially on every occasion when a
new shell-fish or reptile was to be ushered into existence on _one_ of
these worlds? Surely this idea is too ridiculous to be for a moment
entertained.
It will be objected that the ordinary conceptions of Christian nations on
this subject are directly derived from Scripture, or, at least, are in
conformity with it. If they were clearly and unequivocally supported by
Scripture, it may readily be allowed that there would be a strong
objection to the reception of any opposite hypothesis. But the fact is,
however startling the present announcement of it may be, that the first
chapter of the Mosaic record is not only not in harmony with the ordinary
ideas of mankind respecting cosmical and organic creation, but is opposed
to them, and only in accordance with the views here taken. When we
carefully peruse it with awakened minds, we find that all the procedure
is represented primarily and pre-eminently as flowing _from commands and
expressions of will_, _not from direct acts_. Let there be light—let
there be a firmament—let the dry land appear—let the earth bring forth
grass, the herb, the tree—let the waters bring forth the moving creature
that hath life—let the earth bring forth the living creature after his
kind—these are the terms in which the principal acts are described. The
additional expressions,—God made the firmament—God made the beast of the
earth, &c., occur subordinately, and only in a few instances; they do not
necessarily convey a different idea of the mode of creation, and indeed
only appear as alternative phrases, in the usual duplicative manner of
Eastern narrative. Keeping this in view, the words used in a subsequent
place, “God _formed_ man in his own image,” cannot well be understood as
implying any more than what was implied before,—namely, that man was
produced in consequence of an expression of the Divine will to that
effect. Thus, the scriptural objection quickly vanishes, and the
prevalent ideas about the organic creation appear only as a mistaken
inference from the text, formed at a time when man’s ignorance prevented
him from drawing therefrom a just conclusion. At the same time, I freely
own that I do not think it right to adduce the Mosaic record, either in
objection to, or support of any natural hypothesis, and this for many
reasons, but particularly for this, that there is not the least
appearance of an intention in that book to give philosophically exact
views of nature.
To a reasonable mind the Divine attributes must appear, not diminished or
reduced in any way, by supposing a creation by law, but infinitely
exalted. It is the narrowest of all views of the Deity, and
characteristic of a humble class of intellects, to suppose him acting
constantly in particular ways for particular occasions. It, for one
thing, greatly detracts from his foresight, the most undeniable of all
the attributes of Omnipotence. It lowers him towards the level of our
own humble intellects. Much more worthy of him it surely is, to suppose
that all things have been commissioned by him from the first, though
neither is he absent from a particle of the current of natural affairs in
one sense, seeing that the whole system is continually supported by his
providence. Even in human affairs, if I may be allowed to adopt a
familiar illustration, there is a constant progress from specific action
for particular occasions, to arrangements which, once established, shall
continue to answer for a great multitude of occasions. Such plans the
enlightened readily form for themselves, and conceive as being adopted by
all who have to attend to a multitude of affairs, while the ignorant
suppose every act of the greatest public functionary to be the result of
some special consideration and care on his part alone. Are we to suppose
the Deity adopting plans which harmonize only with the modes of procedure
of the less enlightened of our race? Those who would object to the
hypothesis of a creation by the intervention of law, do not perhaps
consider how powerful an argument in favour of the existence of God is
lost by rejecting this doctrine. When all is seen to be the result of
law, the idea of an Almighty Author becomes irresistible, for the
creation of a law for an endless series of phenomena—an act of
intelligence above all else that we can conceive—could have no other
imaginable source, and tells, moreover, as powerfully for a sustaining as
for an originating power. On this point a remark of Dr. Buckland seems
applicable: “If the properties adopted by the elements at the moment of
their creation adapted them beforehand to the infinity of complicated
useful purposes which they have already answered, and may have still
farther to answer, under many dispensations of the material world, such
an aboriginal constitution, so far from superseding an intelligent agent,
would only exalt our conceptions of the consummate skill and power that
could comprehend such an infinity of future uses under future systems, in
the original groundwork of his creation.”
A late writer, in a work embracing a vast amount of miscellaneous
knowledge, but written in a dogmatic style, argues at great length for
the doctrine of more immediate exertions on the part of the Deity in the
works of his creation. One of the most striking of his illustrations is
as follows:—“The coral polypi, united by a common animal bond, construct
a defined form in stone; many kinds construct many forms. An allotted
instinct may permit each polypus to construct its own cell, but there is
no superintending one to direct the pattern, nor can the workers unite by
consultation for such an end. There is no recipient for an instinct by
which the pattern might be constructed. It is God alone, therefore, who
is the architect; and for this end, consequently, he must dispose of
every new polypus required to continue the pattern, in a new and peculiar
position, which the animal could not have discovered by itself. Yet
more, millions of these blind workers unite their works to form an
island, which is also wrought out according to a constant general
pattern, and of a very peculiar nature, though the separate coral works
are numerously diverse. Still less, then, here is an instinct possible.
The Great Architect himself must execute what he planned, in each case
equally. He uses these little and senseless animals as hands; but they
are hands which himself must direct. He must direct each one everywhere,
and therefore he is ever acting.” {159} This is a most notable example
of a dangerous kind of reasoning. It is now believed that corals have a
general life and sensation throughout the whole mass, residing in the
nervous tissue which envelops them; consequently, there is nothing more
wonderful in their determinate general forms than in those of other
animals.
It may here be remarked that there is in our doctrine that harmony in all
the associated phenomena which generally marks great truths. First, it
agrees, as we have seen, with the idea of planet-creation by natural law.
Secondly, upon this supposition, all that geology tells us of the
succession of species appears natural and intelligible. Organic life
_presses in_, as has been remarked, wherever there was room and
encouragement for it, the forms being always such as suited the
circumstances, and in a certain relation to them, as, for example, where
the limestone-forming seas produced an abundance of corals, crinoidea,
and shell-fish. Admitting for a moment a re-origination of species after
a cataclysm, as has been surmised by some geologists, though the
hypothesis is always becoming less and less tenable, it harmonizes with
nothing so well as the idea of a creation by law. The more solitary
commencements of species, which would have been the most inconceivably
paltry exercise for an immediately creative power, are sufficiently
worthy of one operating by laws.
It is also to be observed, that the thing to be accounted for is not
merely the origination of organic being upon this little planet, third of
a series which is but one of hundreds of thousands of series, the whole
of which again form but one portion of an apparently infinite
globe-peopled space, where all seems analogous. We have to suppose, that
every one of these numberless globes is either a theatre of organic
being, or in the way of becoming so. This is a conclusion which every
addition to our knowledge makes only the more irresistible. Is it
conceivable, as a fitting mode of exercise for creative intelligence,
that it should be constantly moving from one sphere to another, to form
and plant the various species which may be required in each situation at
particular times? Is such an idea accordant with our general conception
of the dignity, not to speak of the power, of the Great Author? Yet such
is the notion which we must form, if we adhere to the doctrine of special
exercise. Let us see, on the other hand, how the doctrine of a creation
by law agrees with this expanded view of the organic world.
Unprepared as most men may be for such an announcement, there can be no
doubt that we are able, in this limited sphere, to form some satisfactory
conclusions as to the plants and animals of those other spheres which
move at such immense distances from us. Suppose that the first persons
of an early nation who made a ship and ventured to sea in it, observed,
as they sailed along, a set of objects which they had never before
seen—namely, a fleet of other ships—would they not have been justified in
supposing that those ships were occupied, like their own, by human beings
possessing hands to row and steer, eyes to watch the signs of the
weather, intelligence to guide them from one place to another—in short,
beings in all respects like themselves, or only shewing such differences
as they knew to be producible by difference of climate and habits of
life. Precisely in this manner we can speculate on the inhabitants of
remote spheres. We see that matter has originally been diffused in one
mass, of which the spheres are portions. Consequently, inorganic matter
must be presumed to be everywhere the same, although probably with
differences in the proportions of ingredients in different globes, and
also some difference of conditions. Out of a certain number of the
elements of inorganic matter are composed organic bodies, both vegetable
and animal; such must be the rule in Jupiter and in Sirius, as it is
here. We, therefore, are all but certain that herbaceous and ligneous
fibre, that flesh and blood, are the constituents of the organic beings
of all those spheres which are as yet seats of life. Gravitation we see
to be an all-pervading principle: therefore there must be a relation
between the spheres and their respective organic occupants, by virtue of
which they are fixed, as far as necessary, on the surface. Such a
relation, of course, involves details as to the density and elasticity of
structure, as well as size, of the organic tenants, in proportion to the
gravity of the respective planets—peculiarities, however, which may quite
well consist with the idea of a universality of general types, to which
we are about to come. Electricity we also see to be universal; if,
therefore, it be a principle concerned in life and in mental action, as
science strongly suggests, life and mental action must everywhere be of
one general character. We come to comparatively a matter of detail, when
we advert to heat and light; yet it is important to consider that these
are universal agents, and that, as they bear marked relations to organic
life and structure on earth, they may be presumed to do so in other
spheres also. The considerations as to light are particularly
interesting, for, on our globe, the structure of one important organ,
almost universally distributed in the animal kingdom, is in direct and
precise relation to it. Where there is light there will be eyes, and
these, in other spheres, will be the same in all respects as the eyes of
tellurian animals, with only such differences as may be necessary to
accord with minor peculiarities of condition and of situation. It is but
a small stretch of the argument to suppose that, one conspicuous organ of
a large portion of our animal kingdom being thus universal, a parity in
all the other organs—species for species, class for class, kingdom for
kingdom—is highly likely, and that thus the inhabitants of all the other
globes of space bear not only a general, but a particular resemblance to
those of our own.
Assuming that organic beings are thus spread over all space, the idea of
their having all come into existence by the operation of laws everywhere
applicable, is only conformable to that principle, acknowledged to be so
generally visible in the affairs of Providence, to have all done by the
employment of the smallest possible amount of means. Thus, as one set of
laws produced all orbs and their motions and geognostic arrangements, so
one set of laws overspread them all with life. The whole productive or
creative arrangements are therefore in perfect unity.
PARTICULAR CONSIDERATIONS
RESPECTING
THE ORIGIN OF THE ANIMATED TRIBES.
THE general likelihood of an organic creation by law having been shewn,
we are next to inquire if science has any facts tending to bring the
assumption more nearly home to nature. Such facts there certainly are;
but it cannot be surprising that they are comparatively few and
scattered, when we consider that the inquiry is into one of nature’s
profoundest mysteries, and one which has hitherto engaged no direct
attention in almost any quarter.