XI.

Among the astounding discoveries of modern science is that of the

immense periods which have passed in the gradual formation of our earth.

So vast were the cycles of time preceding even the appearance of man on

the surface of our globe, that our own period seems as yesterday when

compared with the epochs that have gone before it. Had we only the

evidence of the deposits of rock heaped above each other in regular

strata by the slow accumulation of materials, they alone would convince

us of the long and slow maturing of God's work on the earth but when we

add to these the successive populations of whose life this world has

been the theatre, and whose remains are hidden in the rocks into which

the mud or sand or soil of whatever kind on which they lived has

hardened in the course of time,--or the enormous chains of mountains

whose upheaval divided these periods of quiet accumulation by great

convulsions,--or the changes of a different nature in the configuration

of our globe, as the sinking of lands beneath the ocean, or the gradual

rising of continents and islands above it,--or the wearing of great

river-beds, or the filling of extensive water-basins, till marshes first

and then dry land succeeded to inland seas,--or the slow growth of coral

reefs, those wonderful sea-walls raised by the little ocean-architects

whose own bodies furnish both the building-stones and the cement that

binds them together, and who have worked so busily during the long

centuries, that there are extensive countries, mountain-chains, islands,

and long lines of coast consisting solely of their remains,--or the

countless forests that must have grown up, flourished, died, and

decayed, to fill the storehouses of coal that feed the fires of the

human race to-day,--if we consider all these records of the past, the

intellect fails to grasp a chronology for which our experience furnishes

no data, and the time that lies behind us seems as much an eternity to

our conception as the future that stretches indefinitely before us.

The physical as well as the human history of the world has its mythical

age, lying dim and vague in the morning mists of creation, like that of

the heroes and demigods in the early traditions of man, defying all

our ordinary dates and measures. But if the succession of periods that

prepared the earth for the coming of man, and the animals and plants

that accompany him on earth, baffles our finite attempts to estimate its

duration, have we any means of determining even approximately the length

of the period to which we ourselves belong? If so, it may furnish us

with some data for the further solution of these wonderful mysteries of

time, and it is besides of especial importance with reference to the

question of permanence of Species. Those who maintain the mutability of

Species, and account for all the variety of life on earth by the gradual

changes wrought by time and circumstances, do not accept historical

evidence as affecting the question at all. The monuments of those oldest

nations, all whose history is preserved in monumental records, do not

indicate the slightest variation of organic types from that day to this.

The animals that were preserved within their tombs or carved upon their

walls by the ancient Egyptians were the same as those that have their

home in the valley of the Nile today; the negro, whose peculiar features

are unmistakable even in their rude artistic attempts to represent them,

was the same woolly-haired, thick-lipped, flat-nosed, dark-skinned being

in the days of the Rameses that he is now. The Apis, the Ibis, the

Crocodiles, the sacred Beetles, have brought down to us unchanged all

the characters that superstition hallowed in those early days. The

stony face of the Sphinx is not more true to its past, nor the massive

architecture of the Pyramids more unchanged, than they are. But the

advocates of the mutability of Species say truly enough that the most

ancient traditions are but as yesterday in the world's history, and that

what six thousand years could not do sixty thousand years might effect.

Leaving aside, then, all historical chronology, how far back can we

trace our own geological period, and the Species belonging to it? By

what means can we determine its duration? Within what limits, by what

standard, may it be measured? Shall hundreds, or thousands, or hundreds

of thousands, or millions of years be the unit from which we start?

I will begin this inquiry with a series of facts which I myself have

had an opportunity of investigating with especial care respecting the

formation and growth of the Coral Reefs of Florida. But first a few

words on Coral Reefs in general. They are living limestone walls that

are built up from certain depths in the ocean by the natural growth of a

variety of animals, but limited by the level of high-water, beyond which

they cannot rise, since the little beings that compose them die as soon

as they are removed from the vitalizing influence of the pure sea-water.

These walls have a variety of outlines: they may be straight, circular,

semicircular, oblong, according to the form of the coast along which

the little Reef-Builders establish themselves; and their height is, of

course, determined by the depth of the bottom on which they rest. If

they settle about an island on all sides of which the conditions for

their growth are equally favorable, they will raise a wall all around

it, thus encircling it with a ring of Coral growth. The Athols in the

Pacific Ocean, those circular islands inclosing sometimes a fresh-water

lake in mid-ocean, are Coral walls of this kind, that have formed a ring

around a central island. This is easily understood, if we remember that

the bottom of the Pacific Ocean is by no means a stable foundation

for such a structure. On the contrary, over a certain area, which has

already been surveyed with some accuracy by Professor Dana, during the

United States Exploring Expedition, it is subsiding; and if an island

upon which the Reef-Builders have established themselves be situated

in that area of subsidence, it will, of course, sink with the floor on

which it rests, carrying down also the Coral wall to a greater depth in

the sea. In such instances, if the rate of subsidence be more rapid than

the rate of growth in the Corals, the island and the wall itself will

disappear beneath the ocean. But whenever, on the contrary, the rate of

increase in the wall is greater than that of subsidence in the island,

while the latter gradually sinks below the surface, the former rises

in proportion, and by the time it has completed its growth the central

island has vanished, and there remains only a ring of Coral Reef, with

here and there a break, perhaps, at some spot where the more prosperous

growth of the Corals has been checked. If, however, as sometimes

happens, there is no such break, and the wall is perfectly

uninterrupted, the sheet of sea-water so inclosed may be changed to

fresh water by the rains that are poured into it. Such a water-basin

will remain salt, it is true, in its lower part, and the fact that it is

affected by the rise and fall of the tides shows that it is not entirely

secluded from communication with the ocean outside; but the salt water,

being heavier, sinks, while the lighter rain-water remains above, and it

is to all appearance actually changed into a fresh-water lake.

I need not dwell here on the further history of such a Coral island, or

follow it through the changes by which the summit of its circular wall

becomes covered with a fertile soil, a tropical vegetation springs up on

it, and it is at last perhaps inhabited by man. There is something very

attractive in the idea of these green rings inclosing sheltered harbors

and quiet lakes in mid-ocean, and the subject has lost none of its

fascination since the mystery of their existence has been solved by the

investigations of several contemporary naturalists who have enabled us

to trace the whole story of their structure. I would refer all who wish

for a more detailed account of them to Charles Darwin's charming

little volume on "Coral Reefs," where their mode of formation is fully

described, and also to James D. Dana's "Geological Report of the United

States Exploring Expedition."

Coral Reefs are found only in tropical regions: although Polyps, animals

of the same class as those chiefly instrumental in their formation,

are found in all parts of the globe, yet the Reef-Building Polyps are

limited to the Tropics. We are too apt to forget that the homes of

animals are as definitely limited in the water as on the land. Indeed,

the subject of the geographical distribution of animals according to

laws that are established by altitude, by latitude and longitude, by

pressure of atmosphere or pressure of water, already alluded to in

a previous article, is exceedingly interesting, and presents a most

important field of investigation. The climatic effect of different

degrees of altitude upon the growth of animals and plants is the same as

that of different degrees of latitude; and the slope of a high mountain

in the Tropics, from base to summit, presents, in a condensed form, an

epitome, as it were, of the same kind of gradation in vegetable growth

that may be observed from the Tropics to the Arctics. At the base of

such a mountain we have all the luxuriance of growth characteristic

of the tropical forest,--the Palms, the Bananas, the Bread-trees, the

Mimosas; higher up, these give way to a different kind of growth,

corresponding to our Oaks, Chestnuts, Maples, etc.; as these wane, on

the loftier slopes comes in the Pine forest, fading gradually, as it

ascends, into a dwarfish growth of the same kind; and this at last gives

way to the low creeping Mosses and Lichens of the greater heights, till

even these find a foothold no longer, and the summit of the mountain is

clothed in perpetual snow and ice. What have we here but the same series

of changes through which we pass, if, travelling northward from the

Tropics, we leave Palms and Pomegranates and Bananas behind, where the

Live-Oaks and Cypresses, the Orange-trees and Myrtles of the warmer

Temperate Zone come in, and these die out as we reach the Oaks,

Chestnuts, Maples, Elms, Nut-trees, Beeches, and Birches of the colder

Temperate Zone, these again waning as we enter the Pine forests of

the Arctic borders, till, passing out of these, nothing but a dwarf

vegetation, a carpet of Moss and Lichen, fit food for the Reindeer and

the Esquimaux, greets us, and beyond that lies the region of the snow

and ice fields, impenetrable to all but the daring Arctic voyager?

I have thus far spoken of the changes in the vegetable growth alone as

influenced by altitude and latitude, but the same is equally true of

animals. Every zone of the earth's surface has its own animals, suited

to the conditions under which they are meant to live; and with the

exception of those that accompany man in all his pilgrimages, and are

subject to the same modifying influences by which he adapts his home and

himself to all climates, animals are absolutely bound by the laws of

their nature within the range assigned to them. Nor is this the case

only on land, where river-banks, lake-shores, and mountain-ranges might

be supposed to form the impassable boundaries that keep animals within

certain limits; but the ocean as well as the land has its faunae and

florae bound within their respective zoölogical and botanical provinces;

and a wall of granite is not more impassable to a marine animal than

that ocean-line, fluid and flowing and ever-changing though it be, on

which is written for him, "Hitherto shalt thou come, but no farther."

One word as to the effect of pressure on animals will explain this.

We all live under the pressure of the atmosphere. Now thirty-two feet

under the sea doubles that pressure, since a column of water of that

height is equal in weight to the pressure of one atmosphere. At the

depth of thirty-two feet, then, any marine animal is under the pressure

of two atmospheres,--that of the air which surrounds our globe, and of a

weight of water equal to it; at sixty-four feet he is under the pressure

of three atmospheres, and so on,--the weight of one atmosphere being

always added for every thirty-two feet of depth. There is a great

difference in the sensitiveness of animals to this pressure. Some fishes

live at a great depth and find the weight of water genial to them, while

others would be killed at once by the same pressure, and the latter

naturally seek the shallow waters. Every fisherman knows that he must

throw a long line for a Halibut, while with a common fishing-rod he will

catch plenty of Perch from the rocks near the shore; and the differently

colored bands of sea-weed revealed by low tide, from the green line of

the Ulvas through the brown zone of the common Fucas to the rosy and

purple hued sea-weeds of the deeper water show that the florae as well

as the faunae of the ocean have their precise boundaries. This wider

or narrower range of marine animals is in direct relation to their

structure, which enables them to bear a greater or less pressure of

water. All fishes, and, indeed, all animals having a wide range of

distribution in ocean-depths, have a special apparatus of water-pores,

so that the surrounding element penetrates their structure, thus

equalizing the pressure of the weight, which is diminished from without

in proportion to the quantity of water they can admit into their bodies.

Marine animals differ in their ability to sustain this pressure, just

as land animals differ in their power of enduring great variations of

climate and of atmospheric pressure.

Of all air-breathing animals, none exhibits a more surprising power of

adapting itself to great and rapid changes of external influences than

the Condor. It may be seen feeding on the sea-shore under a burning

tropical sun, and then, rising from its repast, it floats up among the

highest summits of the Andes and is lost to sight beyond them, miles

above the line of perpetual snow, where the temperature must be lower

than that of the Arctics. But even the Condor, sweeping at one flight

from tropic heat to arctic cold, although it passes through greater

changes of temperature, does not undergo such changes of pressure as a

fish that rises from a depth of sixty-four feet to the surface of the

sea; for the former remains within the air that surrounds our globe,

and therefore the increase or diminution of pressure to which it is

subjected must be confined within the limits of one atmosphere, while

the latter, at a depth of sixty-four feet, is under a weight equal to

that of three such atmospheres, which is reduced to one when it reaches

the sea-level. The change is even much greater for those fishes that

come from a depth of several hundred feet. These laws of limitation in

space explain many facts in the growth of Coral Reefs that would be

otherwise inexplicable, and which I will endeavor to make clear to my

readers.

For a long time it was supposed that the Coral animals inhabited very

deep waters, for they were sometimes brought up on sounding-lines from a

depth of many hundreds or even thousands of feet, and it was taken for

granted that they must have had their home where they were found;

but the facts recently ascertained respecting the subsidence of

ocean-bottoms have shown that the foundation of a Coral wall may have

sunk far below the place where it was laid, and it is now proved beyond

a doubt that no Reef-Building Coral can thrive at a depth of more than

fifteen fathoms, though Corals of other kinds occur far lower, and that

the dead Reef-Corals sometimes brought to the surface from much greater

depths are only broken fragments of some Reef that has subsided with

the bottom on which it was growing. But though fifteen fathoms is the

maximum depth at which any Reef-Builder can prosper, there are many

which will not sustain even that degree of pressure, and this fact has,

as we shall see, an important influence on the structure of the Reef.

Imagine now a sloping shore on some tropical coast descending gradually

below the surface of the sea. Upon that slope, at a depth of from ten

to twelve or fifteen fathoms, and two or three or more miles from the

main-land, according to the shelving of the shore, we will suppose that

one of those little Coral animals to whom a home in such deep waters is

genial has established itself. How it happens that such a being, which

we know is immovably attached to the ground and forms the foundation of

a solid wall, was ever able to swim freely about in the water till it

found a suitable resting-place, I shall explain hereafter, when I say

something of the mode of reproduction of these animals. Accept, for the

moment, my unsustained assertion, and plant our little Coral on this

sloping shore some twelve or fifteen fathoms below the surface of the

sea. The internal structure of such a Coral corresponds to that of the

Sea-Anemone: the body is divided by vertical partitions from top to

bottom, leaving open chambers between, while in the centre hangs the

digestive cavity connecting by an opening in the bottom with all these

chambers; at the top is an aperture which serves as a mouth, surrounded

by a wreath of hollow tentacles, each one connecting at its base with

one of the chambers, so that all parts of the animal communicate freely

with each other. But though the structure of the Coral is identical in

all its parts with that of the Sea-Anemone, it nevertheless presents one

important difference. The body of the Sea-Anemone is soft, while that of

the Coral is hard. It is well known that all animals and plants have the

power of appropriating to themselves and assimilating the materials they

need, each selecting from the surrounding elements whatever contributes

to its well-being. The plant takes carbon, the animal takes oxygen, each

rejecting what the other requires. We ourselves build our bones with

the lime that we find unconsciously in the world around us; much of our

nourishment supplies us with it, and the very vegetables we eat have,

perhaps, themselves been fed from some old lime strata deposited

centuries ago. We all represent materials that have contributed to

construct our bodies. Now Corals possess, in an extraordinary degree,

the power of assimilating to themselves the lime contained in the salt

water around them; and as soon as our little Coral is established on a

firm foundation, a lime deposit begins to form in all the walls of its

body, so that its base, its partitions, and its outer wall, which in

the Sea-Anemone remain always soft, become perfectly solid in the Polyp

Coral and form a frame as hard as bone. It may naturally be asked

where the lime comes from in the sea which the Corals absorb in such

quantities. As far as the living Corals are concerned the answer is

easy, for an immense deal of lime is brought down to the ocean by

rivers that wear away the lime deposits through which they pass. The

Mississippi, whose course lies through extensive lime regions, brings

down yearly lime enough to supply all the animals living in the Gulf of

Mexico. But behind this lies a question not so easily settled, as to

the origin of the extensive deposits of limestone found at the very

beginning of life upon earth. This problem brings us to the threshold of

astronomy, for limestone is metallic in character, susceptible therefore

of fusion, and may have formed a part of the materials of our earth,

even in an incandescent state, when the worlds were forming. But though

this investigation as to the origin of lime does not belong either to

the naturalist or the geologist, its suggestion reminds us that the

time has come when all the sciences and their results are so intimately

connected that no one can be carried on independently of the others.

Since the study of the rocks has revealed a crowded life whose records

are hoarded within them, the work of the geologist and the naturalist

has become one and the same, and at that border-land where the first

crust of the earth condensed out of the igneous mass of materials which

formed its earliest condition their investigation mingles with that of

the astronomer, and we cannot trace the limestone in a little Coral

without going back to the creation of our solar system, when the worlds

that compose it were thrown off from a central mass in a gaseous

condition.

When the Coral has become in this way permeated with lime, all parts of

the body are rigid, with the exception of the upper margin, the stomach,

and the tentacles. The tentacles are soft and waving, projected or drawn

in at will, and they retain their flexible character through life, and

decompose when the animal dies. For this reason the dried specimens of

Corals preserved in museums do not give us the least idea of the living

Corals, in which every one of the millions of beings composing such

a community is crowned by a waving wreath of white or green or

rose-colored tentacles.

As soon as the little Coral is fairly established and solidly attached

to the ground, it begins to bud. This may take place in a variety of

ways, dividing at the top or budding from the base or from the sides,

till the primitive animal is surrounded by a number of individuals like

itself, of which it forms the nucleus, and which now begin to bud in

their turn, each one surrounding itself with a numerous progeny, all

remaining, however, attached to the parent. Such a community increases

till its individuals are numbered by millions; and I have myself counted

no less than fourteen millions of individuals in a Coral mass measuring

not more than twelve feet in diameter. These are the so-called Coral

heads which form the foundation of a Coral wall, and their massive

character and regular form seem to be especially adapted to give a

strong, solid base to the whole structure. They are known in our

classifications as the Astraeans, so named on account of the star-shaped

form of the little pits that are crowded upon the surface, each one

marking the place of a single individual in such a community.

Thus firmly and strongly is the foundation of the reef laid by the

Astraeans; but we have seen that for their prosperous growth they

require a certain depth and pressure of water, and when they have

brought the wall so high that they have not more than six fathoms of

water above them, this kind of Coral ceases to grow. They have, however,

prepared a fitting surface for different kinds of Corals that could not

live in the depths from which the Astraeans have come, but find their

genial home nearer the surface; such a home being made ready for them

by their predecessors, they now establish themselves on the top of the

Coral wall and continue its growth for a certain time. These are the

Mandrinas, or the so-called Brain-Corals, and the Porites. The Mandrinas

differ from the Astraeans by their less compact and definite pits. In

the Astraeans the place occupied by the animal in the community is

marked by a little star-shaped spot, in the centre of which all the

partition-walls meet. But in the Mandrinas, although all the partitions

converge toward the central opening, as in the Astraeans, these central

openings elongate, run into each other, and form waving furrows all over

the surface, instead of the small round pits so characteristic of the

Astraeans. The Porites resemble the Astraeans, but the pits are smaller,

with fewer partitions and fewer tentacles, and their whole substance is

more porous.

But these also have their bounds within the sea: they in their turn

reach the limit beyond which they are forbidden by the laws of their

nature to pass, and there they also pause. But the Coral wall continues

its steady progress; for here the lighter kinds set in,--the Madrepores,

the Millepores, and a great variety of Sea-Fans and Corallines, and the

reef is crowned at last with a many-colored shrubbery of low feathery

growth. These are all branching in form, and many of them are simple

calciferous plants, though most of them are true animals, resembling,

however, delicate Algae more than any marine animals; but, on

examination of the latter, one finds them to be covered with myriads of

minute dots, each representing one of the little beings out of which the

whole is built.

I would add here one word on the true nature of the Millepores, long

misunderstood by naturalists, because it throws light not only on some

interesting facts respecting Coral Reefs, especially the ancient ones,

but also because it tells us something of the early inhabitants of the

globe, and shows us that a class of Radiates supposed to be missing in

that primitive creation had its representatives then as now. In the

diagram of the geological periods introduced in a previous article, I

have represented all the three classes of Radiates, Polyps, Acalephs,

and Echinoderms, as present on the first floor of our globe that was

inhabited at all. But it is only recently that positive proofs have been

found of the existence of Acalephs or Jelly-Fishes, as they are

called, at that early period. Their very name indicates their delicate

structure; and were there no remains preserved in the rocks of these

soft, transparent creatures, it would yet be no evidence that they did

not exist. Fragile as they are, however, they have left here and there

some faint record of themselves, and in the Museum at Carlsruhe, on a

slab from Solenhofen, I have seen a very perfect outline of one which

remains undescribed to this day. This, however, does not carry them

farther back than the Jurassic period, and it is only lately that I have

satisfied myself that they not only existed, but were among the most

numerous animals in the first representation of organic life.

The earliest Corals correspond in certain features of their structure to

the Millepores. They differ from them as all early animals differ from

the succeeding ones, every geological period having its special set of

representatives. But still they are always true to their class, and have

a certain general correspondence with animals of like kind that follow

them in later periods. In this sense the Millepores are in our epoch the

representatives of those early Corals called by naturalists Tabulata and

Rugosa,--distinguished from the Polyp Corals by the horizontal floors,

waving in some, straight in others, which divide the body transversely

at successive heights through its whole length, and also by the absence

of the vertical partitions, extending from top to bottom of each animal,

so characteristic of the true Polyps. As I have said, they were for a

long time supposed, notwithstanding these differences, to be Polyps, and

I had shared in this opinion, till, during the winter of 1857, while

pursuing my investigations on the Coral Reefs of Florida, one of these

Millepores revealed itself to me in its true character of Acaleph. It is

by its soft parts alone--those parts which are seen only in its living

state, and when the animal is fully open--that its Acalephian character

can be perceived, and this accounts for its being so long accepted as

a Polyp, when studied in the dry Coral stock. Nothing could exceed

my astonishment when for the first time I saw such an animal fully

expanded, and found it to be a true Acaleph. It is exceedingly difficult

to obtain a view of them in this state, for, at any approach, they draw

themselves in, and remain closed to all investigation. Only once, for a

short hour, I had this opportunity; during that time one of these little

creatures revealed to me its whole structure, as if to tell me, once for

all, the story of its existence through all the successive epochs from

the dawn of Creation till now, and then withdrew. With my most patient

watching, I have never been able to see one of them open again. But to

establish the fact that one of the Corals represented from the earliest

period till now, and indeed far more numerous in the beginning than any

other, was in truth no Polyp, but an Acaleph, the glimpse I had was

all-sufficient. It came out as if to bear witness of its class,--as if

to say, "We, too, were among the hosts of living beings with which God

first peopled His earth."

With these branching Corals the reef reaches the level of high-water,

beyond which, as I have said, there can be no further growth, for want

of the action of the fresh sea-water. This dependence upon the vivifying

influence of the sea accounts for one unfailing feature in the Coral

walls. They are always abrupt and steep on the seaward side, but have a

gentle slope towards the land. This is accounted for by the circumstance

that the Corals on the outer side of the reef are in immediate contact

with the pure ocean-water, while by their growth they partially exclude

the inner ones from the same influence,--the rapid growth of the latter

being also impeded by any impurity or foreign material washed away from

the neighboring shore and mingling with the water that fills the channel

between the main-land and the reef. Thus the Coral Reefs, whether built

around an island, or concentric to a rounding shore, or along a straight

line of coast, are always shelving toward the land, while they

are comparatively abrupt and steep toward the sea. This should be

remembered, for, as we shall see hereafter, it has an important bearing

on the question of time as illustrated by Coral Reefs.

I have spoken of the budding of Corals, by which each one becomes the

centre of a cluster; but this is not the only way in which they multiply

their kind. They give birth to eggs also, which are carried on the inner

edge of their partition-walls, till they drop into the sea, where they

float about, little, soft, transparent, pear-shaped bodies, as unlike as

possible to the rigid stony structure they are to assume hereafter. In

this condition they are covered with vibratile cilia or fringes, that

are always in rapid, uninterrupted motion, and keep them swimming about

in the water. It is by means of these little germs of the Corals,

swimming freely about during their earliest stages of growth, that the

reef is continued, at the various heights where special kinds die

out, by those that prosper at shallower depths; otherwise it would be

impossible to understand how this variety of building material, as it

were, is introduced wherever it is needed. This point, formerly a puzzle

to naturalists, has become quite clear since it has been found that

myriads of these little germs are poured into the water surrounding a

reef. There they swim about till they find a genial spot on which to

establish themselves, when they become attached to the ground by one

end, while a depression takes place at the opposite end, which gradually

deepens to form the mouth and inner cavity, while the edges expand to

form the tentacles, and the productive life of the little Coral begins:

it buds from every side, and becomes the foundation of a new community.

I should add, that, beside the Polyps and the Acalephs, Mollusks also

have their representatives among the Corals. There is a group of small

Mollusks called Bryozoa, allied to the Clams by their structure, but

excessively minute when compared to the other members of their class,

which, like the other Corals, harden in consequence of an absorption of

solid materials, and contribute to the formation of the reef. Besides

these, there are certain plants, limestone Algae,--Corallines, as they

are called,--which have their share also in the work.

I had intended to give some account of the Coral Reefs of Florida,

and to show what bearing they have upon the question of time and the

permanence of Species; but this cursory sketch of Coral Reefs in general

has grown to such dimensions that I must reserve a more particular

account of the Florida Reefs and Keys for a future article.

* * * * *

The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 09, No. 55, May, 1862 A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics · 第 17 / 38 题