THE LIFE OF A PLANET.

By RICHARD PROCTOR.

The material life of a planet is beginning to be recognized as being no

less real than the life of a plant or of an animal. It is a different

kind of life; there is neither consciousness such as we see in one of

those forms of life, nor such systematic progress as we recognize in

plant-life. But it is life, all the same. It has had a beginning, like

all things which exist; and like them all, it must have an end.

The lifetime of a world like our earth may be truly said to be a lifetime

of cooling. Beginning in the glowing vaporous condition which we see in

the sun and stars, an orb in space passes gradually to the condition of a

cool, non-luminous mass, and thence, with progress depending chiefly on

its size (slower for the large masses and quicker for the small ones), it

passes steadily onward toward inertness and death. Regarding the state in

which we find the earth to be as the stage of a planet’s mid-life—viz.,

that in which the conditions are such that multitudinous forms of life

can exist upon its surface, we may call that stage death in which these

conditions have entirely disappeared.

Now, among the conditions necessary for the support of life in general

are some which are unfavorable to individual life. Among these may

be specially noted the action of those subterranean forces by which

the earth’s surface is continually modeled and remodeled. It has been

remarked with great justice, by Sir John Herschel, that since the

continents of the earth were formed, forces have been at work which

would long since have sufficed to have destroyed every trace of land,

and to have left the surface of our globe one vast limitless ocean. But

against these forces counteracting forces have been at work, constantly

disturbing the earth’s crust, and, by keeping it irregular, leaving room

for ocean in the depressions, and leaving the higher parts as continents

and islands above the ocean’s surface. If these disturbing forces ceased

to work, the work of disintegrating, wearing away, and washing off the

land would go on unresisted. In periods of time such as to us seem long,

no very great effect would be produced; but such periods as belong to

the past of our earth, even to that comparatively short part of the past

during which she has been the abode of life, would suffice to produce

effects utterly inconsistent with the existence of life on land. Only by

the action of her vulcanian energies can the earth maintain her position

as an abode of life. She is, then, manifesting her fitness to support

life in those very throes by which, too often, many lives are lost. The

upheavals and downsinkings, the rushing of ocean in great waves over

islands and seaports, by which tens of thousands of human beings, and

still greater numbers of animals, lose their lives, are part of the

evidence which the earth gives that within her frame there still remains

enough of vitality for the support of life during hundreds of thousands

of years to come.

This vitality is not due, as seems commonly imagined, to the earth’s

internal heat. Rather the earth’s internal heat is due to the vitality

with which her frame is instinct. The earth’s vitality is in reality

due to the power of attraction which resides in every particle of her

mass—that wonderful force of gravitation, omnipresent, infinite in

extent, the property whose range throughout all space should have taught

long since what science is teaching now (and has been foolishly blamed

for teaching), the equally infinite range of God’s laws in time also.

By virtue of the force of gravity pervading her whole frame, the crust

of the earth is continually undergoing changes, as the loss of heat

and consequent contraction, or chemical changes beneath the surface,

leave room for the movement inward of the rock-substances of the crust,

with crushing, grinding action, and the generation of intense heat. If

the earth’s energy of gravity were lost, the internal fires would die

out—not, indeed, quickly, but in a period of time very short compared

with that during which, maintained as they constantly are by the effects

of internal movements, they will doubtless continue. They are, in

a sense, the cause of earthquakes, volcanoes, and so forth, because

they prepare the earth’s interior for the action of her energies of

attraction. But it is to these energies and the material which as yet

they have on which to work, that the earth’s vitality is due. She will

not, indeed, retain her vitality as long as she retains her gravitating

power. That power must have something to work on. When the whole frame

of the earth has been compressed to a condition of the greatest density

which her attractive energies can produce, then terrestrial gravity will

have nothing left to work on within the earth, and the earth’s globe

will be to all intents and purposes dead. She will continue to exercise

her attractive force on bodies outside of her. She will rotate on her

axis, revolve around the sun, and reflect his rays of light and heat.

But she will have no more life of her own than has the moon, which still

discharges all those planetary functions.

But such disturbances as the recent earthquakes, while disastrous

in their effects to those living near the shaken regions, assure

us that as yet the earth is not near death. She is still full of

vitality. Thousands—nay, tens, hundreds of thousands of years will

still pass before even the beginning of the end is seen, in the steady

disintegration and removal of the land without renovation or renewal by

the action of subterranean forces.—_The Contemporary Review._

The Chautauquan, Vol. 04, December 1883 · 第 58 / 187 题