the greatest pleasure to have an opportunity of laying before you some statements and reflections, which I trust may satisfy you that geology and natural history can be made subservient to the great interests of a civilized community, to a far greater extent than is generally admitted.
The question of the harbor of Boston, for instance, has a geological and zoological side, thus far only indirectly considered. In order to ascertain whence the materials are derived which accumulate in the harbor, the shores ought to be studied geologically with a kind of accuracy and minuteness, never required by geological surveys made for economical purposes. The banks of the harbor, wherever it is not rock-bound, consist of drift, which itself rests upon the various rock formations of the district. Now this drift, as I have ascertained, formerly extended many miles beyond our present shores, and is still slowly washed away by the action of tides, winds, and currents. Until you know with precision the mineralogical composition of the drift of the immediate vicinity, so accurately indeed as to be able to recognize it in any new combination into which it may be brought when carried off by the sea, all your examination of soundings may be of little use. Should it, however, be ascertained that the larger amount of loose material spreading over the harbor is derived from some one or other of the drift islands in the bay, the building of sea-walls to stop the denudation may be of greater and more immediate use than any other operation. Again, it is geologically certain that all the drift islands of the harbor have been formed by the encroachment of the sea upon a sheet of drift, which once extended in unbroken continuity from Cape Ann to Cape Cod and farther south. This sheet of drift is constantly diminishing, and in centuries to come, which, notwithstanding the immeasurable duration of geological periods, may be reached, I trust, while the United States still remains a flourishing empire, it will be removed still further; so far indeed, that I foresee the time when the whole peninsula of Cape Cod shall disappear. Under these circumstances, it is the duty of a wise administration to establish with precision the rate and the extent of this destruction, that the coming generations may be forewarned. In connection with this I would advise the making of a thorough survey of the harbor, to ascertain the extent of rock surface and of drift, and the relative position of the two, with maps to show their relations to the different levels of the sea, whereby the unequal action of the tides upon the various beaches may be estimated.
The zoological side of the question relates to the amount of loose materials accumulating in consequence of the increase of animal and vegetable life, especially of those microscopic beings which, notwithstanding their extraordinary minuteness, form in course of time vast deposits of solid materials. Ehrenberg has shown that the harbor of Wismar, on the Prussian coast of the Baltic, is filling, not in consequence of the accumulation of inorganic sediments, but by the rapid increase and decay of innumerable animalcules. To what extent such deposits may accumulate has also been shown by Ehrenberg, who ascertained, many years ago, that the city of Berlin rests upon a deposit of about eighteen feet in thickness, consisting almost exclusively of the solid parts of such microscopic beings. These two cases may suffice to show how important may be a zoological investigation of the harbor deposits.
I need hardly add that the deposits floated into the harbor, by the numerous rivers and creeks which empty into it, ought to be investigated with the same care and minuteness as the drift materials. This investigation should also include the drainage of the city.
But this is only a small part of the application I would recommend to be made of geological and zoological knowledge, to the purposes of the Coast Survey. The reefs of Florida are of the deepest interest, and the mere geodetic and hydrographic surveys of their whole range would be far from exhausting the subject. It is my deliberate opinion that the great reefs of Florida should be explored with as much minuteness and fullness as the Gulf Stream, and that the investigation will require as much labor as has thus far been bestowed on the Gulf Stream. Here again geological and zoological knowledge is indispensable to the completion of the work. The reef is formed mainly by the accumulation of solid materials from a variety of animals and a few plants. The relations of these animals and plants to one another while alive, in and upon the reef, ought to be studied more fully than has been the case heretofore, in order to determine with certainty the share they have in the formation of these immense submarine walls so dangerous to navigation. The surveys, as they have been made thus far, furnish only the necessary information concerning the present form and extent of the reef. But we know that it is constantly changing, increasing, enlarging, spreading, rising in such a way and at such a rate, that the surveys of one century become insufficient for the next. A knowledge of these changes can only be obtained by a naturalist, familiar with the structure and mode of growth of the animals. The survey I made about fifteen years ago, at the request of your lamented predecessor, could only be considered as a reconnaissance, in view of the extent and importance of the work. I would, therefore, recommend you to organize a party specially detailed to carry on these investigations in connection with, and by the side of, the regular geodetic and hydrographic survey. Here, also, would geological knowledge be of great advantage to the explorer. In confirmation of my recommendation I need only remind you of a striking fact in the history of our science. More than thirty years ago, before Dana and Darwin had published their beautiful investigations upon the coral reefs, a pupil of mine, the late Armand Gressly, had traced the structure and mode of growth of coral reefs and atolls in the Jura mountains, thus anticipating, by a geological investigation, results afterward obtained by dredging in the ocean. The structure of the reefs of our shores is, therefore, more likely to be fully understood by one who is entirely familiar with zoology and geology than by a surveyor who has no familiarity with either of these sciences.
There is another reason why I would urge upon you the application of natural sciences to the work of the survey. The depth of the ocean is a great obstacle to a satisfactory exploration of its bottom. But we know now that nearly all dry land has been sea bottom before it was raised above the level of the water. This is at least the case with all the stratified rocks and aqueous deposits forming part of the earth’s crust. Now it would greatly facilitate the study of the bottom of the sea if, after ascertaining by soundings the general character of the bottom in any particular region, corresponding bottoms on dry land were examined, so that by a comparison of the one with the other, both might be better understood. The shoals of the southern coast of Massachusetts have been surveyed, and their position is now known with great accuracy; but their internal structure, their mode of formation, is only imperfectly ascertained, owing to the difficulty of cutting into them and examining in situ the materials of which they are composed. Nothing, on the contrary, is easier than to explore the structure or composition of drift hills which are cut through by all our railroad tracks. Now the shoals and rips of Nantucket have their counterparts on the main-land; and even along the shores of Boston Harbor, in the direction of Dorchester and Milton, such shoals may be examined, far away from the waters to which they owe their deposits. Here, then, is the place to complete the exploration, for which soundings and dredgings give only imperfect information.
I need not extend these remarks further in order to satisfy you of the importance of geological and zoological researches in connection with the regular operations of the Coast Survey. Permit me, however, to add a few words upon some points which, as it seems to me, belong legitimately to the Coast Survey, and to which sufficient attention has not yet been paid. I allude, first, to the salt marshes of our shores, their formation and uses, as well as their gradual disappearance under the advance of the sea; second, to the extended low islands in the form of reefs along the coast of the Southern States, the bases of which may be old coral reefs; third, the form of all our estuaries, which has resulted from the conflict of the sea with the drift formation, and is therefore, in a measure, a geological problem; fourth, the extensive deposits of foraminifera along the coast, which ought to be compared with the deposits of tripoli found in many tertiary formations; fifth, the general form and outline of our continent, with all its indentations, which are due to their geological structure. Indeed, the shore everywhere is the result of the conflict of the ocean with the rock formation of the land, and therefore as much a question for geology as geodesy to answer.
Should the preceding remarks induce you to carry my suggestions into practical operation, be assured that it will at all times give me the greatest pleasure to contribute to the success of your administration, not only by advice, but by actual participation in your work whenever that is wanted. The scientific men of America look to you for the publication of the great results already secured by the Coast Survey, well knowing that this national enterprise can only be benefited by the high-minded course which has at all times marked your intellectual career.
Ever truly your friend,
L. AGASSIZ.
This year closed for Agassiz with a heavy sorrow. His mother’s health had been failing of late, and November brought the news of her death. Separated though they were, there had never been any break in their intercourse. As far as he could, he kept her advised of all his projects and undertakings, and his work was no less interesting to her when the ocean lay between them than when he could daily share it with her. She had an unbounded sympathy with him in the new ties he had formed in this country, and seemed indeed as intimately allied with his later life here as with its earlier European portion.
His own health, which had seemed for a time to have regained the vigor of youth, broke down again in the following spring, and an attack about the region of the heart disabled him for a number of weeks. To this date belongs a short correspondence between Agassiz and Oswald Heer. Heer’s work on the Fossil Flora of the Arctics had recently appeared, and a presentation copy from him reached Agassiz as he was slowly regaining strength after his illness, although still confined to the house. It could not have come at a happier moment, for it engrossed him completely, and turned his thoughts away from the occupations which he was not yet allowed to resume. The book had a twofold interest for him: although in another branch of science, it was akin to his own earlier investigations, inasmuch as it reconstructed the once rich flora of the polar regions as he himself had reconstructed the fauna of past geological times; it clothed their frozen fields with forests as he had sheeted now fertile lands with ice. In short, it appealed powerfully to the imagination, and no child in the tedious hours of convalescence was ever more beguiled by a story-book than he by the pictures which this erudite work called up.
AGASSIZ TO OSWALD HEER.
CAMBRIDGE, May 12, 1868.
MY HONORED COLLEAGUE,
Your beautiful book on the Fossil Arctic Flora reached me, just as I was recovering from a tedious and painful illness. I could, therefore, take it in hand at once, and have been delighted with it. You give a captivating picture of the successive changes which the Arctic regions have undergone. No work could be more valuable, either as a means of opening recent investigations in Paleontology to the larger public, or of advancing science itself. If I can find the time I mean to prepare an abridgment in popular form for one of our reviews. Meantime I have written to Professor Henry, Superintendent of the Smithsonian Institution at Washington, that he should subscribe for a number of copies to be distributed among less wealthy establishments. I hope he will do this, and I shall continue to urge it, since my friendly relations with him give me a right so to do. I have, moreover, written to the directors of various prominent institutions, in order that your work, so far as is possible for works of that kind, may become known in the United States, and reach such persons as would naturally be interested in it. . .
With friendly remembrance, yours always,
LOUIS AGASSIZ.
The answer is some months later in date, but is given here for its connection.
FROM OSWALD HEER.
ZURICH, December 8, 1868.
MY HONORED FRIEND,
Your letter of last May gave me the greatest pleasure, and I should have answered it earlier had I not heard that you had gone to the Rocky Mountains, and supposed, therefore, that my letter would hardly find you at home again before the late autumn. I will delay writing no longer,–the more so because I have received, through the Smithsonian Institution, your great work on the Natural History of the United States. Valuable as it is in itself, it has a double attraction for me as the gift of the author. Accept my warm thanks. It will always be to me a token of your friendly regard. It gave me great satisfaction to know that my Fossil Arctic Flora had met with your approval. Since then many new facts have come to light tending to confirm my results. The Whymper Expedition brought to England a number of fossil plants, which have been sent to me for examination. I found eighty species, of which thirty-two from North Greenland are new, so that we now know 137 species of Miocene plants from North Greenland (70 degrees north latitude). It was a real delight to me to find the fruit cup of the Castanea [chestnut] inclosing three seeds (three Kastanica) and covered with prickles like the Castanea vesca; and, furthermore, I was able to prove by the flowers, which were preserved with the fruit, that the supposition given in the Arctic Flora (page 106) was correct; namely, that the leaves of the Fagus castaneafolia Ung. truly belong to a Castanea. As several fruits are contained in one fruit cup, this Miocene Castanea must have been nearer to the European species (C. vesca) than to the American Castanea (the C. pumila Micha). The leaves have been drawn in the Flora Arctica, and are also preserved in the Whymper collection.
I have received very beautiful and large leaves of the Castanea which I have called C. Ungeri, from Alaska. I am now occupied in working up this fossil Alaskan flora; the plants are in great part drawn, and contain magnificent leaves. The treatise will be published by the Swedish Academy in Stockholm; I hope to send you a copy a few months hence. This flora is remarkable for its resemblance to the European Miocene flora. The liquidambar, as well as several poplars and willows, cannot be distinguished from those of Oeningen; the same is true of an Elm, a Carpinus, and others. As Alaska now belongs to the United States, it is to be hoped that these collecting stations, which have already furnished such magnificent plants, will be farther ransacked. . .Hoping that you have returned safely from your journey, and that these lines may find you well, I remain, with cordial greeting,
Sincerely yours,
OSWALD HEER.
Shortly after Agassiz’s recovery, in July, 1868, he was invited by Mr. Samuel Hooper to join a party of friends, tired members of Congress and business men, on an excursion to the West, under conditions which promised not only rest and change, but an opportunity for studying glacial phenomena over a broad region of prairie and mountain which Agassiz had never visited. They were to meet at Chicago, keep on from there to St. Paul, and down the Mississippi, turning off through Kansas to the eastern branch of the Pacific Railroad, at the terminus of which they were to meet General Sherman with ambulances and an escort for conveyance across the country to the Union Pacific Railroad, returning then by Denver, Utah, and Omaha, and across the State of Iowa to the Mississippi once more. This journey was of great interest to Agassiz, and its scientific value was heightened by a subsequent stay of nearly two months at Ithaca, N.Y., on his return. Cornell University was then just opened at Ithaca, and he had accepted an appointment as non-resident professor, with the responsibility of delivering annually a course of lectures on various subjects of natural history. New efforts in behalf of education always attracted him, and this drew him with an even stronger magnet than usual, involving as it did an untried experiment–the attempt, namely, to combine the artisan with the student, manual labor with intellectual work. The plan was a generous one, and stimulated both pupils and teachers. Among the latter none had greater sympathy with the high ideal and broad humanity of the undertaking than Agassiz.* (* Very recently a memorial tablet has been placed in the Chapel at Cornell University by the trustees, recording their gratitude for the share he took in the initiation of the institution.)
Beside the enthusiasm which he brought to his special work, he found an added pleasure at Cornell in the fact that the region in which the new university was situated contained another chapter in the book of glacial records he had so long been reading, and made also, as the following letter tells us, a natural sequence to his recent observations in the West.
TO M. DE LA RIVE.
ITHACA, October 26, 1868.
. . .I am passing some weeks here, and am studying the erratic phenomena, and especially the formation of the many small lakes which literally swarm in this region, and are connected in various ways with the glacial epoch. The journey which I have just completed has furnished me with a multitude of new facts concerning the glacial period, the long continuance of which, and its importance with reference to the physical history of the globe, become daily more clear to me. The origin and mode of formation of the vast system of our American rivers have especially occupied me, and I think I have found the solution of the problem which they present. This system reproduces the lines followed by the water over the surface of the ground moraines, which covered the whole continent, when the great sheet of ice which modeled the drift broke up and melted away. This conclusion will, no doubt, be as slow of acceptance as was the theory of the ancient extension of glaciers. But that does not trouble me. For my own part I am confident of its truth, and after having seen the idea of a glacial epoch finally adopted by all except those who are interested in opposing it on account of certain old and artificial theories, I can wait a little till the changes which succeeded that epoch are also understood. I have obtained direct proof that the prairies of the West rest upon polished rock. It has happened in the course of recent building on the prairie, that the native rock has been laid bare here and there, and this rock is as distinctly furrowed by the action of the glacier and by its engraving process, as the Handeck, or the slopes of the Jura. I have seen magnificent slabs in Nebraska in the basin of the river Platte. Do not the physicists begin to think of explaining to us the probable cause of changes so remarkable and so well established? We can no longer evade the question by supposing these phenomena to be due to the action of great currents. We have to do first with sheets of ice, five or six thousand feet in thickness (an estimate which can be tested by indirect measurements in the Northern States), covering the whole continent, and then with the great currents which ensued upon the breaking up of that mass of ice. He who does not distinguish between these two series of facts, and perceive their connection, does not understand the geology of the Quaternary epoch. . .
Of about this date is the following pleasant letter from Longfellow to Agassiz. Although it has no special bearing upon what precedes, it is inserted here, because their near neighborhood and constant personal intercourse, both at Cambridge and Nahant, made letters rare between them. Friends who see each other so often are infrequent correspondents.
ROME, December 31, 1868.
MY DEAR AGASSIZ,
I fully intended to write you from Switzerland, that my letter might come to you like a waft of cool air from a glacier in the heat of summer. But alas! I did not find cool air enough for myself, much less to send across the sea. Switzerland was as hot as Cambridge, and all life was taken out of me; and the letter remained in the inkstand. I draw it forth as follows.
One of the things I most wished to say, and which I say first, is the delight with which I found your memory so beloved in England. At Cambridge, Professor Sedgwick said, “Give my love to Agassiz. Give him the blessing of an old man.” In London, Sir Roderick Murchison said, “I have known a great many men that I liked; but I LOVE Agassiz.” In the Isle of Wight, Darwin said, “What a set of men you have in Cambridge! Both our universities put together cannot furnish the like. Why, there is Agassiz,–he counts for three.”
One of my pleasantest days in Switzerland was that passed at Yverdon. In the morning I drove out to see the Gasparins. In their abundant hospitality they insisted upon my staying to dinner, and proposed a drive up the valley of the Orbe. I could not resist; so up the lovely valley we drove, and passed the old chateau of the Reine Berthe, one of my favorite heroines, but, what was far more to me, passed the little town of Orbe. There it stands, with its old church tower and the trees on the terrace, just as when you played under them as a boy. It was very, very pleasant to behold . . .Thanks for your letter from the far West. I see by the papers that you have been lecturing at the Cornell University.
With kindest greetings and remembrances, always affectionately yours,
H.W.L.
CHAPTER 22.
1868-1871: AGE 61-64.
New Subscription to Museum.
Additional Buildings.
Arrangement of New Collections.
Dredging Expedition on Board the Bibb. Address at the Humboldt Centennial.
Attack on the Brain.
Suspension of Work.
Working Force at the Museum.
New Accessions.
Letter from Professor Sedgwick.
Letter from Professor Deshayes.
Restored Health.
Hassler Voyage proposed.
Acceptance.
Scientific Preparation for the Voyage.
Agassiz returned to Cambridge to find the Museum on an improved footing financially. The Legislature had given seventy-five thousand dollars for an addition to the building, and private subscriptions had doubled this sum, in order to provide for the preservation and arrangement of the new collections. In acknowledging this gift of the Legislature in his Museum Report for 1868 Agassiz says:–
“While I rejoice in the prospect of this new building, as affording the means for a complete exhibition of the specimens now stored in our cellars and attics and encumbering every room of the present edifice, I yet can hardly look forward to the time when we shall be in possession of it without shrinking from the grandeur of our undertaking. The past history of our science rises before me with its lessons. Thinking men in every part of the world have been stimulated to grapple with the infinite variety of problems, connected with the countless animals scattered without apparent order throughout sea and land. They have been led to discover the affinities of various living beings. The past has yielded up its secrets, and has shown them that the animals now peopling the earth are but the successors of countless populations which have preceded them, and whose remains are buried in the crust of our globe. Further study has revealed relations between the animals of past time and those now living, and between the law of succession in the former and the laws of growth and distribution in the latter, so intimate and comprehensive that this labyrinth of organic life assumes the character of a connected history, which opens before us with greater clearness in proportion as our knowledge increases. But when the museums of the Old World were founded, these relations were not even suspected. The collections of natural history, gathered at immense expense in the great centres of human civilization, were accumulated mainly as an evidence of man’s knowledge and skill in exhibiting to the best advantage, not only the animals, but the products and curiosities of all sorts from various parts of the world. While we admire and emulate the industry and perseverance of the men who collected these materials, and did in the best way the work it was possible to do in their time for science, we have no longer the right to build museums after this fashion. The originality and vigor of one generation become the subservience and indolence of the next, if we only repeat the work of our predecessors. They prepared the ground for us by accumulating the materials for extensive comparison and research. They presented the problem; we ought to be ready with the solution. If I mistake not, the great object of our museums should be to exhibit the whole animal kingdom as a manifestation of the Supreme Intellect. Scientific investigation in our day should be inspired by a purpose as animating to the general sympathy, as was the religious zeal which built the Cathedral of Cologne or the Basilica of St. Peter’s. The time is passed when men expressed their deepest convictions by these wonderful and beautiful religious edifices; but it is my hope to see, with the progress of intellectual culture, a structure arise among us which may be a temple of the revelations written in the material universe. If this be so, our buildings for such an object can never be too comprehensive, for they are to embrace the infinite work of Infinite Wisdom. They can never be too costly, so far as cost secures permanence and solidity, for they are to contain the most instructive documents of Omnipotence.”
Agassiz gave the winter of 1869 to identifying, classifying, and distributing the new collections. A few weeks in the spring were, however, passed with his friend Count de Pourtales in a dredging expedition on board the Coast Survey Steamer Bibb, off the coast of Cuba, on the Bahama Banks, and among the reefs of Florida. This dredging excursion, though it covered a wider ground than any previous one, was the third deep-sea exploration undertaken by M. de Pourtales under the auspices of the Coast Survey. His investigations may truly be said to have exercised a powerful influence upon this line of research, and to have led the way to the more extended work of the same kind carried on by the Coast Survey in later years. He had long wished to show his old friend and teacher some of the rich dredging grounds he had discovered between Florida and the West Indies, and they thoroughly enjoyed this short period of work together. Every day and hour brought some new interest, and excess of material seemed the only difficulty.
This was Agassiz’s last cruise in the Bibb, on whose hospitable deck he had been a welcome guest from the first year of his arrival in this country. The results of this expedition, as connected with the present conformation of the continent and its probable geological history in the past, were given as follows in the Museum Bulletin of the same year.
REPORT UPON DEEP SEA DREDGINGS.*
(* “Bulletin of the Museum of Comparative Zoology” 1 Number 13 1869 pages 368, 369.)
BY LOUIS AGASSIZ.
From what I have seen of the deep-sea bottom, I am already led to infer that among the rocks forming the bulk of the stratified crust of our globe, from the oldest to the youngest formation, there are probably none which have been formed in very deep waters. If this be so, we shall have to admit that the areas now respectively occupied by our continents, as circumscribed by the two hundred fathom curve or thereabout, and the oceans at greater depth, have from the beginning retained their relative outline and position; the continents having at all times been areas of gradual upheaval with comparatively slight oscillations of rise and subsidence, and the oceans at all times areas of gradual depression with equally slight oscillations. Now that the geological constitution of our continent is satisfactorily known over the greatest part of its extent, it seems to me to afford the strongest evidence that this has been the case; while there is no support whatever for the assumption that any part of it has sunk again to any very great depth after its rise above the surface of the ocean. The fact that upon the American continent, east of the Rocky Mountains, the geological formations crop out in their regular succession, from the oldest azoic and primordial deposits to the cretaceous formation, without the slightest indication of a great subsequent subsidence, seems to me the most complete and direct demonstration of my proposition. Of the western part of the continent I am not prepared to speak with the same confidence. Moreover, the position of the cretaceous and tertiary formations along the low grounds east of the Allegheny range is another indication of the permanence of the ocean trough, on the margin of which these more recent beds have been formed. I am well aware that in a comparatively recent period, portions of Canada and the United States, which now stand six or seven hundred feet above the level of the sea, have been under water; but this has not changed the configuration of the continent, if we admit that the latter is in reality circumscribed by the two hundred fathom curve of depth.
The summer was passed in his beloved laboratory at Nahant (as it proved, the last he ever spent there), where he was still continuing the preparation of his work on sharks and skates. At the close of the summer, he interrupted this occupation for one to which he brought not only the reverence of a disciple, but a life-long debt of personal gratitude and affection. He had been entreated to deliver the address at the Humboldt Centennial Celebration (September 15, 1869), organized under the auspices of the Boston Society of Natural History. He had accepted the invitation with many misgivings, for to literary work as such he was unaccustomed, and in the field of the biographer he felt himself a novice. His preparation for the task was conscientious and laborious. For weeks he shut himself up in a room of the Public Library in Boston and reviewed all the works of the great master, living, as it were, in his presence. The result was a very concise and yet full memoir, a strong and vigorous sketch of Humboldt’s researches, and of their influence not only upon higher education at the present day, but on our most elementary instruction, until the very “school-boy is familiar with his methods, yet does not know that Humboldt is his teacher.” Agassiz’s picture of this generous intellect, fertilizing whatever it touched, was made the more life-like by the side lights which his affection for Humboldt and his personal intercourse with him in the past enabled him to throw upon it. Emerson, who was present, said of this address, “that Agassiz had never delivered a discourse more wise, more happy, or of more varied power.” George William Curtis writes of it: “Your discourse seems to me the very ideal of such an address, –so broad, so simple, so comprehensive, so glowing, so profoundly appreciative, telling the story of Humboldt’s life and work as I am sure no other living man can tell it.” In memory of this occasion the “Humboldt Scholarship” was founded at the Museum of Comparative Zoology.
It is hardly worth while to consider now whether this effort, added to the pressing work of the year, hastened the attack which occurred soon after, with its warning to Agassiz that his overtasked brain could bear no farther strain. The first seizure, of short duration, but affecting speech and motion while it lasted, was followed by others which became less and less acute until they finally disappeared. For months, however, he was shut up in his room, absolutely withdrawn from every intellectual effort, and forbidden by his physicians even to think. The fight with his own brain was his greatest difficulty, and perhaps he showed as much power in compelling his active intellect to stultify itself in absolute inactivity for the time, as he had ever shown in giving it free rein. Yet he could not always banish the Museum, the passionate dream of his American life. One day, after dictating some necessary directions concerning it, he exclaimed, with a sort of despairing cry, “Oh, my Museum! my Museum! always uppermost, by day and by night, in health and in sickness, always–ALWAYS!”
He was destined, however, to a few more years of activity, the reward, perhaps, of his patient and persistent struggle for recovery. After a winter of absolute seclusion, passed in his sick chamber, he was allowed by his physician, in the spring of 1870, to seek change at the quiet village of Deerfield on the Connecticut River. Nature proved the best physician. Unable when he arrived to take more than a few steps without vertigo, he could, before many weeks were over, walk several miles a day. Keen as an Egyptologist for the hieroglyphics of his science, he was soon deciphering the local inscriptions of the glacial period, tracking the course of the ice on slab and dike and river-bed,–on every natural surface. The old music sang again in his ear and wooed him back to life.
In the mean time, his assistants and students were doing all in their power to keep the work of the Museum at high-water mark. The publications, the classification and arrangement of the more recent collections, the distribution of such portions as were intended for the public, the system of exchanges, went on uninterruptedly. The working force at the Museum was, indeed, now very strong. In great degree it was, so to speak, home-bred. Agassiz had gradually gathered about him, chiefly from among his more special students, a staff of assistants who were familiar with his plans and shared his enthusiasm. To these young friends he was warmly attached. It would be impossible to name them all, but the knot of younger men who were for years his daily associates in scientific work, whose sympathy and cooperation he so much valued, and who are now in their turn growing old in the service of science, will read the roll-call between the lines, and know that none are forgotten here. Years before his own death, he had the pleasure of seeing several of them called to important scientific positions, and it was a cogent evidence to him of the educational efficiency of the Museum, that it had supplied to the country so many trained investigators and teachers. Through them he himself teaches still. There was a prophecy in Lowell’s memorial lines:–
“He was a Teacher: why be grieved for him Whose living word still stimulates the air? In endless file shall loving scholars come, The glow of his transmitted touch to share.”
Beside these, there were several older, experienced naturalists, who were permanently or transiently engaged at the Museum. Some were heads of departments, while others lent assistance occasionally in special work. Again the list is too long for enumeration, but as the veteran among the older men Mr. J.G. Anthony should be remembered. Already a conchologist of forty years’ standing when he came to the Museum in 1863, he devoted himself to the institution until the day of his death, twenty years later. Among those who came to give occasional help were Mr. Lesquereux, the head of paleontological botany in this country; M. Jules Marcou, the geologist; and M. de Pourtales, under whose care the collection of corals was constantly improved and enlarged. The last named became at last wholly attached to the Museum, sharing its administration with Alexander Agassiz after his father’s death.
To this band of workers some accessions had recently been made. More than two years before, Agassiz had been so fortunate as to secure the assistance of the entomologist, Dr. Hermann Hagen, from Konigsberg, Prussia. He came at first only for a limited time, but he remained, and still remains, at the Museum, becoming more and more identified with the institution, beside filling a place as professor in Harvard University. His scientific sympathy and support were of the greatest value to Agassiz during the rest of his life. A later new-corner, and a very important one at the Museum, was Dr. Franz Steindachner, of Vienna, who arrived in the spring of 1870 to put in final order the collection of Brazilian fishes, and passed two years in this country. Thus Agassiz’s hands were doubly strengthened. Beside having the service of the salaried assistants and professors, the Museum received much gratuitous aid. Among the scientific volunteers were numbered for years Francois de Pourtales, Theodore Lyman, James M. Barnard, and Alexander Agassiz, while the business affairs of the institution were undertaken by Thomas G. Cary, Agassiz’s brother-in-law. The latter had long been of great service to the Museum as collector on the Pacific coast, where he had made this work his recreation in the leisure hours of a merchant’s life.* (* For the history of the Museum in later times reference is made to the regular reports and publications of the institution.)
Broken as he was in health, it is amazing to see the amount of work done or directed by Agassiz during this convalescent summer of 1870. The letters written by him in this time concerning the Museum alone would fill a good-sized volume. Such a correspondence is unfit for reproduction here, but its minuteness shows that almost the position of every specimen, and the daily, hourly work of every individual in the Museum, were known to him. The details of administration form, however, but a small part of the material of this correspondence. The consideration and discussion of the future of the Museum with those most nearly concerned, fill many of the letters. They give evidence of a fostering and far-reaching care, which provided for the growth and progress of the Museum, long after his own share in it should have ceased.
In reviewing Agassiz’s scientific life in the United States, its brilliant successes, and the genial generous support which it received in this country, it is natural to give prominence to the brighter side. And yet it must not be forgotten that like all men whose ideals outrun the means of execution, he had moments of intense depression and discouragement. Some of his letters, written at this time to friends who controlled the financial policy of the Museum, are almost like a plea for life. While the trustees urge safe investments and the expenditure of income alone, he believes that in proportion to the growth and expansion of the Museum will be its power of self-maintenance and its claim on the community at large. In short, expenditure seemed to him the best investment, insuring a fair return, on the principle that the efficiency and usefulness of an institution will always be the measure of the support extended to it. The two or three following letters, in answer to letters from Agassiz which cannot be found, show how earnestly, in spite of physical depression, he strove to keep the Museum in relation with foreign institutions, to strengthen the former, and cooperate as far as possible with the latter.
FROM PROFESSOR VON SIEBOLD.
MUNICH, 1869.
. . .Most gladly shall I meet your wishes both with regard to the fresh-water fishes of Central Europe and to your desire for the means of direct comparison between the fishes brought by Spix from Brazil and described by you, and those you have recently yourself collected in the Amazons. The former, with one exception, are still in existence and remain undisturbed, for since your day no one has cared to work at the fishes or reptiles. Schubert took no interest in the zoological cabinet intrusted to him; and Wagner, who later relieved him of its management, cared chiefly for the mammals. I have now, however, given particular attention to the preservation of everything determined by you, so far as it could be found, and am truly glad that this material is again to be called into the service of science. Of course I had to ask permission of the “General Conservatorium of Scientific Collections” before sending this property of the state on so long a journey. At my urgent request this permission was very cordially granted by Herr von Liebig, especially as our collection is likely to be increased by the new forms you offer us.
As to the fresh-water fishes I must beg for a little time. At the fish market, in April or May, I can find those Cyprinoids, the males of which bear at the spawning season that characteristic eruption of the skin, which has so often and so incorrectly led to the making of new species. . .
From your son Alexander I receive one beautiful work after another. Give him my best thanks for these admirable gifts, which I enter with sincere pleasure in my catalogue of books. You are indeed happy to have such a co-worker at your side. At the next opportunity I shall write my thanks to him personally.
How is Dr. Hermann Hagen pleased with his new position? I think the presence of this superior entomologist will exert a powerful and important influence upon the development of entomology in North America. . .
FROM PROFESSOR G.P. DESHAYES.
MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY, PARIS, February 4, 1870.
Your letter was truly an event, my dear friend, not only for me but for our Museum. . .How happy you are, and how enviable has been your scientific career, since you have had your home in free America! The founder of a magnificent institution, to which your glorious name will forever remain attached, you have the means of carrying out whatever undertaking commends itself to you as useful. Men and things, following the current that sets toward you, are drawn to your side. You desire, and you see your desires carried out. You are the sovereign leader of the scientific movement around you, of which you yourself have been the first promoter.
What would our old Museum not have gained in having at its head a man like you! We should not now be lying stagnant in a space so insufficient that our buildings, by the mere force of circumstances, are transformed into store-houses, where objects of study are heaped together, and can be of no use to any one. . .You can fancy how much I envy your organization. It depressed me to read your letter, with its brilliant proposals of exchange, remembering how powerless we are to meet even a small number of them. Your project is certainly an admirable one; to find the scientific nomenclature where it is best established, and by the help of good specimens transport it to your own doors. Nothing could be better, and I would gladly assist in it. But to succeed in this excellent enterprise one must have good duplicate specimens; not having them, one must have money. As a conclusion to your letter, the question of money was brought before my assembled colleagues, but the answer was vague and uncertain. I must, then, find resources in some other way, and this is what I propose to do . . .[Here follow some plans for exchange.] Beside this, I will busy myself in getting together authentic collections from our French seas, both Oceanic and Mediterranean, and even from other points in the European seas. Meantime, you shall have your share henceforth in whatever comes to me. . .I learn from your son that your health is seriously attacked. I was grieved to hear it. Take care of yourself, my dear friend. You are still needed in this world; you have a great work to accomplish, the end and aim of which you alone are able to reach. You must, therefore, still stand in the breach for some years to come.
Your letter, which shows me the countless riches you have to offer at the Museum, puts me in the frame of mind of the child who was offered his choice in a toy-shop. “I choose everything,” he said. I could reply in the same way. I choose all you offer me. Still, one must be reasonable, and I will therefore name, as the thing I chiefly desire, the remarkable fauna dredged from the Gulf Stream. Let me add, however, in order to give you entire freedom, that whatever you may send to the Museum will be received with sincere and ardent gratitude.
And so, farewell, my dear friend, with a warm shake of the hand and the most cordial regard.
DESHAYES.
The next is in answer to a letter from Agassiz to the veteran naturalist, Professor Sedgwick, concerning casts of well-known fossil specimens in Cambridge, England. Though the casts were unattainable, the affectionate reply gave Agassiz keen pleasure.
FROM PROFESSOR ADAM SEDGWICK.
THE CLOSE, NORWICH, August 9, 1871.
MY VERY DEAR AND HONORED FRIEND,
. . .I of course showed your letter to my friend Seeley, and after some consultation with men of practical knowledge, it was considered almost impossible to obtain such casts of the reptilian bones as you mention. The specimens of the bones are generally so rugged and broken, that the artists would find it extremely difficult to make casts from them without the risk of damaging them, and the authorities of the university, who are the proprietors of the whole collection in my Museum, would be unwilling to encounter that risk. Mr. Seeley, however, fully intends to send you a gutta-percha cast of the cerebral cavity of one of our important specimens described in “Seeley’s Catalogue,” but he is full of engagements and may not hitherto have realized his intentions. As for myself, at present I can do nothing except hobble daily on my stick from my house to the Cathedral, for I am afflicted by a painful lameness in my left knee. The load of years begins to press upon me (I am now toiling through my 87th year), and my sight is both dim and irritable, so that, as a matter of necessity, I am generally compelled to employ an amanuensis. That part is now filled by a niece who is to me in the place of a dear daughter.
I need not tell you that the meetings of the British Association are still continued, and the last session (this year at Edinburgh) only ended yesterday. Let me correct a mistake. I met you first at Edinburgh in 1834, the year I became Canon, and again at Dublin in 1835. . .It is a great pleasure to me, my dear friend, to see again by the vision of memory that fine youthful person, that benevolent face, and to hear again, as it were, the cheerful ring of the sweet and powerful voice by which you made the old Scotchmen start and stare, while you were bringing to life again the fishes of their old red sandstone. I must be content with the visions of memory and the feelings they again kindle in my heart, for it will never be my happiness to see your face again in this world. But let me, as a Christian man, hope that we may meet hereafter in heaven, and see such visions of God’s glory in the moral and material universe, as shall reduce to a mere germ everything which has been elaborated by the skill of man, or revealed to God’s creatures. I send you an old man’s blessing, and remain,
Your affectionate friend,
ADAM SEDGWICK.
In November, 1870, Agassiz was able to return to Cambridge and the Museum, and even to resume his lectures, which were as vigorous and fresh as ever. So entirely did he seem to have recovered, that in the course of the winter the following proposition was made to him by his friend, Professor Benjamin Peirce, then Superintendent of the Coast Survey.
FROM PROFESSOR PEIRCE.
COAST SURVEY OFFICE, WASHINGTON, February 18, 1871.
. . .I met Sumner in the Senate the day before yesterday, and he expressed immense delight at a letter he had received from Brown-Sequard, telling him that you were altogether free from disease. . .Now, my dear friend, I have a very serious proposition for you. I am going to send a new iron surveying steamer round to California in the course of the summer. She will probably start at the end of June. Would you go in her, and do deep-sea dredging all the way round? If so, what companions will you take? If not, who shall go?. . .
FROM AGASSIZ TO PROFESSOR PEIRCE.
CAMBRIDGE, February 20, 1871.
. . .I am overjoyed at the prospect your letter opens before me. Of course I will go, unless Brown-Sequard orders me positively to stay on terra firma. But even then, I should like to have a hand in arranging the party, as I feel there never was, and is not likely soon again to be, such an opportunity for promoting the cause of science generally, and that of natural history in particular. I would like Pourtales and Alex to be of the party, and both would gladly join if they can. Both are as much interested about it as I am, and I have no doubt between us we may organize a working team, strong enough to do something creditable. It seems to me that the best plan to pursue in the survey would be to select carefully a few points (as many as time would allow) on shore, from which to work at right angles with the coast, to as great a distance as the results would justify, and then move on to some other head-land. If this plan be adopted, it would be desirable to have one additional observer to make collections on shore, to connect with the result of the dredgings. This would be the more important as, with the exception of Brazil, hardly anything is known of the shore faunae upon the greater part of the South American coast. For shore observations I should like a man of the calibre of Dr. Steindachner, who has spent a year on the coast of Senegal, and would thus bring a knowledge of the opposite side of the Atlantic as a starting basis of comparison. . .
After consultation with his physicians, it was decided that Agassiz might safely undertake the voyage in the Hassler, that it might indeed be of benefit to his health. His party of naturalists, as finally made up, consisted of Agassiz himself, Count de Pourtales, Dr. Franz Steindachner, and Mr. Blake, a young student from the Museum, who accompanied Agassiz as assistant and draughtsman. Dr. Thomas Hill, ex-president of Harvard University, was also on the expedition, and though engaged in special investigations of his own, he joined in all the work with genial interest. The vessel was commanded by Captain (now Commodore) Philip C. Johnson, whose courtesy and kindness made the Hassler a floating home to the guests on board. So earnest and active was the sympathy felt by him and his officers in the scientific interests of the expedition, that they might be counted as a valuable additional volunteer corps. Among them should be counted Dr. William White, of Philadelphia, who accompanied the expedition in a partly professional, partly scientific capacity.
The hopes Agassiz had formed of this expedition, as high as those of any young explorer, were only partially fulfilled. His enthusiasm, though it had the ardor of youth, had none of its vagueness. In a letter to Mr. Peirce, published in the Museum Bulletin at this time, there is this passage: “If this world of ours is the work of intelligence and not merely the product of force and matter, the human mind, as a part of the whole, should so chime with it, that from what is known it may reach the unknown. If this be so, the knowledge gathered should, within the limits of error which its imperfection renders unavoidable, enable us to foretell what we are likely to find in the deepest abysses of the sea.” He looked, in short, for the solution of special problems directly connected with all his previous work. He believed the deeper sea would show forms of life akin to animals of earlier geological times, throwing new light on the relation between the fossil and the living world. In the letter above quoted, he even named the species he expected to find most prevalent in those greater depths: as, for instance, representatives of the older forms of Ganoids and Selachians; Cephalopods, resembling the more ancient chambered shells; Gasteropods, recalling the tertiary and cretaceous types; and Acephala, resembling those of the jurassic and cretaceous formations. He expected to find Crustaceans also, more nearly approaching the ancient Trilobites than those now living on the surface of the globe; and among Radiates he looked for the older forms of sea-urchins, star-fishes, and corals. Although the collections brought together on this cruise were rich and interesting, they gave but imperfect answers to these comprehensive questions. Owing to defects in the dredging apparatus, the hauls from the greatest depths were lost.
With reference to the glacial period he anticipated still more positive results. In the same letter the following passage occurs: “There is, however, still one kind of evidence wanting, to remove all doubt that the greater extension of glaciers in former ages was connected with cosmic changes in the physical condition of our globe. Namely, all the phenomena relating to the glacial period must be found in the southern hemisphere, accompanied by the same characteristic features as in the north, but with this essential difference,–that everything must be reversed. The trend of the glacial abrasions must be from the south northward, the lee-side of abraded rocks must be on the north side of the hills and mountain ranges, and the boulders must have traveled from the south to their present position. Whether this be so or not, has not yet been ascertained by direct observation. I expect to find it so throughout the temperate and cold zones of the southern hemisphere, with the exception of the present glaciers of Terra del Fuego and Patagonia, which may have transported boulders in every direction. Even in Europe, geologists have not yet sufficiently discriminated between local glaciers and the phenomena connected with their different degrees of successive retreat on the one hand; and, on the other, the facts indicating the action of an extensive sheet of ice moving over the whole continent from north to south. Among the facts already known from the southern hemisphere are the so-called rivers of stone in the Falkland Islands, which attracted the attention of Darwin during his cruise with Captain Fitzroy, and which have remained an enigma to this day. I believe it will not be difficult to explain their origin in the light of the glacial theory, and I fancy they may turn out to be ground moraines similar to the ‘horsebacks’ in Maine.
“You may ask what this question of drift has to do with deep-sea dredging? The connection is closer than may at first appear. If drift is not of glacial origin, but is the product of marine currents, its formation at once becomes a matter for the Coast Survey to investigate. But I believe it will be found in the end, that so far from being accumulated by the sea, the drift of the Patagonian lowlands has been worn away by the sea to its present outline, like the northern shores of South America and Brazil.”. . .
This is not the place for a detailed account of the voyage of the Hassler, but enough may be told to show something of Agassiz’s own share in it. A journal of scientific and personal experience, kept by Mrs. Agassiz under his direction, was nearly ready for publication at the time of his death. The two next chapters, devoted to the cruise of the Hassler, are taken from that manuscript. A portion of it appeared many years ago in the pages of the “Atlantic Monthly.”
CHAPTER 23.
1871-1872: AGE 64-65.
Sailing of the Hassler.
Sargassum Fields.
Dredging at Barbados.
From the West Indies to Rio de Janeiro. Monte Video.
Quarantine.
Glacial Traces in the Bay of Monte Video. The Gulf of Mathias.
Dredging off Gulf of St. George.
Dredging off Cape Virgens.
Possession Bay.
Salt Pool.
Moraine.
Sandy Point.
Cruise through the Straits.
Scenery.
Wind Storm.
Borja Bay.
Glacier Bay.
Visit to the Glacier.
Chorocua Bay.
The vessel was to have started in August, but, owing to various delays in her completion, she was not ready for sea until the late autumn. She finally sailed on December 4, 1871, on a gray afternoon, which ushered in the first snow-storm of the New England winter. Bound for warmer skies, she was, however, soon in the waters of the Gulf Stream, where the work of collecting began in the fields of Sargassum, those drifting, wide-spread expanses of loose sea-weed carrying a countless population, lilliputian in size, to be sure, but very various in character. Agassiz was no less interested than other naturalists have been in the old question so long asked and still unanswered, about the Sargassum. “Where is its home, and what its origin? Does it float, a rootless wanderer on the deep, or has it broken away from some submarine attachment?” He had passed through the same region before, in going to Brazil, but then he was on a large ocean steamer, while from the little Hassler, of 360 tons, one could almost fish by hand from the Sargassum fields. Some of the chief results are given in the following letter.
TO PROFESSOR PEIRCE.
ST. THOMAS, December 15, 1871.
. . .As soon as we reached the Gulf Stream we began work. Indeed, Pourtales had organized a party to study the temperatures as soon as we passed Gay Head, and will himself report to you his results. My own attention was entirely turned to the Gulf weed and its inhabitants, of which we made extensive collections. Our observations on the floating weed itself favor the view of those who believe it to be torn from rocks, on which Sargassum naturally grows. I made a simple experiment which seems to me conclusive. Any branch of the sea-weed which is deprived of its FLOATS sinks at once to the bottom of the water, and these floats are not likely to be the first parts developed from the spores. Moreover, after examining large quantities of the weed, I have not seen a single branch, however small, which did not show marks of having been torn from a solid attachment.
You may hardly feel an interest in my zoological observations, but I am sure you will be glad to learn that we had the best opportunity of carefully examining most of the animals known to inhabit the Gulf weed, and some also which I did not know to occur among them. The most interesting discovery of our voyage thus far, however, is that of a nest built by a fish, and floating on the broad ocean with its living freight. On the 13th, Mr. Mansfield, one of our officers, brought me a ball of Gulf weed which he had just picked up, and which excited my curiosity to the utmost. It was a round mass of Sargassum about the size of two fists. The bulk of the ball was made up of closely packed branches and leaves, held together by fine threads, running through them in every direction, while other branches hung more loosely from the margin. Placed in a large bowl of water it became apparent that the loose branches served to keep the central mass floating, cradle-like, between them. The elastic threads, which held the ball of Gulf weed together, were beaded at intervals, sometimes two or three beads close together, or a bunch of them hanging from the same cluster of threads, or occasionally scattered at a greater distance from each other. Nowhere was there much regularity in the distribution of the beads. They were scattered pretty uniformly throughout the whole ball of seaweed, and were themselves about the size of an ordinary pin’s head. Evidently we had before us a nest of the most curious kind, full of eggs. What animal could have built this singular nest? It did not take long to ascertain the class to which it belonged. A common pocket lens revealed at once two large eyes on the side of the head, and a tail bent over the back of the body, as in the embryo of ordinary fishes shortly before the period of hatching. The many empty egg cases in the nest gave promise of an early opportunity of seeing some embryos, freeing themselves from their envelope. Meanwhile a number of these eggs containing live embryos were cut out of the nest and placed in separate glass jars, in order to multiply the chances of preserving them; while the nest as a whole was secured in alcohol, as a memorial of our discovery.
The next day I found two embryos in my glass jars; they moved occasionally in jerks, and then rested a long time motionless on the bottom of the jar. On the third day I had over a dozen of these young fishes, the oldest beginning to be more active. I need not relate in detail the evidence I soon obtained that these embryos were actually fishes. . .But what kind of fish was it? At about the time of hatching, the fins differ too much from those of the adult, and the general form has too few peculiarities, to give any clew to this problem. I could only suppose it would prove to be one of the pelagic species of the Atlantic. In former years I had made a careful study of the pigment cells of the skin in a variety of young fishes, and I now resorted to this method to identify my embryos. Happily we had on board several pelagic fishes alive. The very first comparison I made gave the desired result. The pigment cell of a young Chironectes pictus proved identical with those of our little embryos. It thus stands, as a well authenticated fact, that the common pelagic Chironectes of the Atlantic, named Ch. pictus by Cuvier, builds a nest for its eggs in which the progeny is wrapped up with the materials of which the nest itself is composed; and as these materials consist of the living Gulf weed, the fish cradle, rocking upon the deep ocean, is carried along as in an arbor, which affords protection and afterwards food also, to its living freight. This marvelous story acquires additional interest, when we consider the characteristic peculiarities of the genus Chironectes. As its name indicates, it has fin-like hands; that is to say, the pectoral fins are supported by a kind of long wrist-like appendage, and the rays of the ventrals are not unlike rude fingers. With these limbs these fishes have long been known to attach themselves to sea-weeds, and rather to walk than to swim in their natural element. But now that we know their mode of reproduction, it may fairly be asked if the most important use of their peculiarly constructed fins is not the building of their nest?. . .There thus remains one closing chapter to the story. May some naturalist, becalmed among the Gulf weed, have the good fortune to witness the process by which the nest is built. . .
This whole investigation was of the greatest interest to Agassiz, and, coming so early in the voyage, seemed a pleasant promise of its farther opportunities. The whole ship’s company soon shared his enthusiasm, and the very sailors gathered about him in the intervals of their work, or hung on the outskirts of the scientific circle. A pause of a few days was made at one or two of the West Indian islands, at St. Thomas and Barbados. At the latter, the first cast of the large dredge was made on a ledge of shoals in a depth of eighty fathoms, and, among countless other things, a number of stemmed crinoids and comatulae were brought up. An ardent student of the early fossil echinoderms, it was a great pleasure to Agassiz to gather their fresh and living representatives. It was like turning a leaf of the past and finding the subtle thread which connects it with the present.
TO PROFESSOR PEIRCE.
PERNAMBUCO, January 16, 1872.
MY DEAR PEIRCE,
I should have written to you from Barbados, but the day before we left the island was favorable for dredging, and our success in that line was so unexpectedly great, that I could not get away from the specimens, and made the most of them for study while I had the chance. We made only four hauls, in between seventy-five and one hundred and twenty fathoms. But what hauls! Enough to occupy half a dozen competent zoologists for a whole year, if the specimens could be kept fresh for that length of time. The first haul brought up a Chemidium-like sponge; the next gave us a crinoid, very much like the Rhizocrinus lofotensis, but probably different; the third, a living Pleurotomaria; the fourth, a new genus of Spatangoids, etc., etc., not to speak of the small fry. We had the crinoid alive for ten or twelve hours. When contracted, the pinnules are pressed against the arms, and the arms themselves shut against one another, so that the whole looks like a swash made up of a few long, coarse twines. When the animal opens, the arms at first separate without bending outside, so that the whole looks like an inverted pentapod; but gradually the tips of the arms bend outward as the arms diverge more and more, and when fully expanded the crown has the appearance of a lily of the L. martagon type, in which each petal is curved upon itself, the pinnules of the arms spreading laterally more and more, as the crown is more fully open. I have not been able to detect any motion in the stem traceable to contraction, though there is no stiffness in its bearing. When disturbed, the pinnules of the arms first contract, the arms straighten themselves out, and the whole gradually and slowly closes up. It was a very impressive sight for me to watch the movements of the creature, for it not only told of its own ways, but at the same time afforded a glimpse into the countless ages of the past, when these crinoids, so rare and so rarely seen nowadays, formed a prominent feature of the animal kingdom. I could see, without great effort of the imagination, the shoal of Lockport teeming with the many genera of crinoids which the geologists of New York have rescued from that prolific Silurian deposit, or recall the formations of my native country, in the hill-sides of which also, among fossils indicating shoal water deposits, other crinoids abound, resembling still more closely those we find in these waters. The close affinities of Rhizocrinus with Apiocrinoids are further exemplified by the fact that when the animal dies, it casts off its arms, like Apiocrinus, the head of which is generally found without arms. And now the question may be asked, what is the meaning of the occurrence of these animals in deep waters at the present day, when, in former ages, similar types inhabited shallow seas? Of the fact there can be no doubt, for it is not difficult to adduce satisfactory evidence of the shoal-like character of the Silurian deposits of the State of New York; their horizontal position, combined with the gradual recession of the higher beds in a southerly direction, leaves no doubt upon this point; and in the case of the jurassic formation alluded to above, the combination of the crinoids with fossils common upon coral reefs, and their presence in atolls of that period, are satisfactory proofs of my assertion. What does it mean, then, when we find the Pentacrinus and Rhizocrinus of the West Indies in deep water only? It seems to me that there is but one explanation of the fact, namely, that in the progress of the earth’s growth, we must look for such a displacement of the conditions favorable to the maintenance of certain lower types, as may recall most fully the adaptations of former ages. It was in this sense I alluded, in my first letter to you, to the probability of our finding in deeper water representatives of earlier geological types; and if my explanation is correct, my anticipation is also fully sustained. But do the deeper waters of the present constitution of our globe really approximate the conditions for the development of animal life, which existed in the shallower seas of past geological ages? I think they do, or at least I believe they approach it as nearly as anything can in the present order of things upon earth; for the depths of the ocean alone can place animals under a pressure corresponding to that caused by the heavy atmosphere of earlier periods. But, of course, such high pressure as animals meet in great depths cannot be a favorable condition for the development of life; hence the predominance of lower forms in the deep sea. The rapid diminution of light with the increasing depth, and the small amount of free oxygen in these waters under greater and greater pressure, not to speak of other limitations arising from the greater uniformity of the conditions of existence, the reduced amount and less variety of nutritive substances, etc., etc., are so many causes acting in the same direction and with similar results. For all these reasons, I have always expected to find that the animals living in great depths would prove to be of a standing, in the scale of structural complications, inferior to those found in shoal waters or near shore; and the correlation elsewhere pointed out between the standing of animals and their order of succession in geological times (see “Essay on Classification “) justifies another form of expression of these facts, namely, that in deeper waters we should expect to find representatives of earlier geological periods. There is in all this nothing which warrants the conclusion that any of the animals now living are lineal descendants of those of earlier ages; nor does their similarity to those of earlier periods justify the statement that the cretaceous formation is still extant. It would be just as true to nature to say that the tertiaries are continued in the tropics, on account of the similarity of the miocene mammalia to those of the torrid zone.
We have another case in the Pleurotomaria. It is not long since it has been made known that the genus Pleurotomaria is not altogether extinct, a single specimen having been discovered about ten years ago in the West Indies. Even Pictet, in the second edition of his Paleontology, still considers Pleurotomaria as extinct, and as belonging to the fossiliferous formations which extend from the Silurian period to the Tertiary. Of the living species found at Marie Galante, nothing is known except the specific characteristics of the shell. We dredged it in one hundred and twenty fathoms, on the west side of Barbados, alive, and kept it alive for twenty-four hours, during which time the animal expanded and showed its remarkable peculiarities. It is unquestionably the type of a distinct family, entirely different from the other Mollusks with which it has been hitherto associated. Mr. Blake has made fine colored drawings of it, which may be published at some future time. . .The family of the Pleurotomariae numbers between four and five hundred fossil species, beginning in the Silurian deposits, but especially numerous in the carboniferous and jurassic formations.
The sponges afford another interesting case. When the first number of the great work of Goldfuss, on the fossils of Germany, made its appearance, about half a century ago, the most novel types it made known were several genera of sponges from the jurassic and cretaceous beds, described under the names of Siphonia, Chemidium, and Scyphia. Nothing of the kind has been known among the living to this day; and yet, the first haul of the dredge near Barbados gave us a Chemidium, or, at least, a sponge so much like the fossil Chemidium, that it must remain for future comparisons to determine whether there are any generic differences between our living sponge and the fossil. The next day brought us a genuine Siphonia, another genus thus far only known from the jurassic beds; and it is worth recording, that I noticed in the collection of Governor Rawson another sponge,–brought to him by a fisherman who had caught it on his line, on the coast of Barbados,–which belongs to the genus Scyphia. Thus the three characteristic genera of sponges from the secondary formation, till now supposed to be extinct, are all three represented in the deep waters of the West Indies. . .
Another family of organized beings offers a similar testimony to that already alluded to. If there is a type of Echinoderms characteristic of a geological period, it is the genus Micraster of the cretaceous formation, in its original circumscription. No species of this genus is known to have existed during the Tertiary era, and no living species has as yet been made known. You may therefore imagine my surprise when the dredge first yielded three specimens of a small species of that particular group of the genus, which is most extensively represented in the upper cretaceous beds.
Other examples of less importance might be enumerated; suffice it now to add that my expectation of finding in deep waters animals already known, but thus far exceedingly rare in museums, is already in a measure realised. . .
Little can be said of the voyage from the West Indies to Rio de Janeiro. It had the usual vicissitudes of weather, with here and there a flight (so it might justly be called) of flying-fish, a school of porpoises or dog-fish, or a sail in the distance, to break the monotony. At Rio de Janeiro it became evident that the plan of the voyage must be somewhat curtailed. This was made necessary partly by the delays in starting,–in consequence of which the season would be less favorable than had been anticipated along certain portions of the proposed route,–and partly by the defective machinery, which had already given some trouble to the Captain. The Falkland Islands, the Rio Negro, and the Santa Cruz rivers were therefore renounced; with what regret will be understood by those who know how hard it is to be forced to break up a scheme of work, which was originally connected in all its parts. The next pause was at Monte Video; but as there was a strict quarantine, Agassiz was only allowed to land at the Mount, a hill on the western side of the bay, the geology of which he was anxious to examine. He found true erratics–loose pebbles, granite, gneiss, and granitic sandstone, having no resemblance to any native rock in the vicinity–scattered over the whole surface of the hill to its very summit. The hill itself had also the character of the “roches moutonnees” modeled by ice in the northern hemisphere. As these were the most northern erratics and glaciated surfaces reported in the southern hemisphere, the facts there were very interesting to him.
With dredgings off the Rio de la Plata, and along the coast between that and the Rio Negro, the vessel held on her way to the Gulf of Mathias, a deep, broad bay running some hundred miles inland, and situated a little south of the Rio Negro. Here some necessary repairs enforced a pause, of which Agassiz took advantage for dredging and for studying the geology of the cliffs along the north side of the bay. As seen from the vessel, they seemed to be stratified with extraordinary evenness and regularity to within a few feet of the top, the summit being crowned with loose sand. Farther on, they sank to sand dunes piled into rounded banks and softly moulded ledges, like snow-drifts. Landing the next day at a bold bluff marked Cliff End on the charts, he found the lower stratum to consist of a solid mass of tertiary fossils, chiefly immense oysters, mingled, however, with sea-urchins. Superb specimens were secured,–large boulders crowded with colossal shells and perfectly preserved echini. From the top of the cliff, looking inland, only a level plain was seen, stretching as far as the eye could reach, broken by no undulations, and covered with low, scrubby growth. The seine was drawn on the beach, and yielded a good harvest for the fish collection. At evening the vessel anchored at the head of the bay, off the Port of San Antonio. The name would seem to imply some settlement; but a more lonely spot cannot be imagined. More than thirty years ago, Fitzroy had sailed up this bay, partially surveyed it, and marked this harbor on his chart. If any vessel has broken the loneliness of its waters since, no record of any such event has been kept. Of the presence of man, there was no sign. Yet the few days passed there were among the pleasantest of the voyage to Agassiz. The work of the dredge and seine was extremely successful, and the rambles inland were geological excursions of great interest. Here he had the first sight of the guanaco of the Patagonian plains. The weather was fine, and at night-fall, to the golden light of sunset succeeded the fitful glow, over land and water, of the bonfires built by the sailors on the beach. Returning to the ship after dark, the various parties assembled in the wardroom, to talk over the events of the day and lay out plans for the morrow. These are the brightest hours in such a voyage, when the novelty of the locality gives a zest to every walk or row, and all are full of interest in a new and exciting life. One is more tolerant even of monotonous natural features in a country so isolated, so withdrawn from human life and occupation. The very barrenness seems in harmony with the intense solitude.
The Hassler left her anchorage on this desolate shore on an evening of singular beauty. It was difficult to tell when she was on her way, so quietly did she move through the glassy waters, over which the sun went down in burnished gold, leaving the sky without a cloud. The light of the beach fires followed her till they too faded, and only the phosphorescence of the sea attended her into the night. Rough and stormy weather followed this fair start, and only two more dredgings were possible before reaching the Strait of Magellan. One was off the Gulf of St. George, where gigantic star-fishes seemed to have their home. One of them, a superb basket-fish, was not less than a foot and a half in diameter; and another, like a huge sunflower of reddish purple tint, with straight arms, thirty-seven in number, radiating from the disk, was of about the same size. Many beautiful little sea-urchins came up in the same dredging. About fifty miles north of Cape Virgens, in tolerably calm weather, another haul was tried, and this time the dredge returned literally solid with Ophiurans.
On Wednesday, March 13th, on a beautifully clear morning, like the best October weather in New England, the Hassler rounded Cape Virgens and entered the Strait of Magellan. The tide was just on the flood, and all the conditions favorable for her run to her first anchorage in the Strait at Possession Bay. Here the working force divided, to form two shore parties, one of which, under Agassiz’s direction, the reader may follow. The land above the first shore bluff at Possession Bay rises to a height of some four hundred feet above the sea-level, in a succession of regular horizontal terraces, of which Agassiz counted eight. On these terraces, all of which are built, like the shore-bluffs, of tertiary deposits, were two curious remnants of a past state of things. The first was a salt-pool lying in a depression on the second terrace, some one hundred and fifty feet above the sea. This pool contained living marine shells, identical with those now found along the shore. Among them were Fusus, Mytilus, Buccinum, Fissurella, Patella, and Voluta, all found in the same numeric relations as those in which they now exist upon the beach below. This pool is altogether too high to be reached by any tidal influence, and undoubtedly indicates an old sea-level, and a comparatively recent upheaval of the shore. The second was a genuine moraine, corresponding in every respect to those which occur all over the northern hemisphere. Agassiz came upon it in ascending to the third terrace above the salt-pool and a little farther inland. It had all the character of a terminal moraine in contact with an actual glacier. It was composed of heterogeneous materials,–large and small pebbles and boulders impacted together in a paste of clayey gravel and sand. The ice had evidently advanced from the south, for the mass had been pushed steeply up on the southern side, and retained so sharp an inclination on that face that but little vegetation had accumulated upon it. The northern side, on the contrary, was covered with soil and overgrown; it sloped gently off,–pebbles and larger stones being scattered beyond it. The pebbles and boulders of this moraine were polished, scratched, and grooved, and bore, in short, all the usual marks of glacial action. Agassiz was naturally delighted with this discovery. It was a new link in the chain of evidence, showing that the drift phenomena are connected at the south as well as at the north with the action of ice, and that the frozen Arctic and Antarctic fields are but remnants of a sheet of ice, which has retreated from the temperate zones of both hemispheres to the polar regions. The party pushed on beyond the moraine to a hill of considerable height, which gave a fine view of the country toward Mount Aymon and the so-called Asses’ Ears. They brought back a variety of game, but their most interesting scientific acquisitions were boulders from the moraine scored with glacial characters, and shells from the salt pool.
Still accompanied by beautiful weather, the Hassler anchored at the Elizabeth Islands and at San Magdalena. Here Agassiz had an opportunity of examining the haunts and rookeries of the penguins and cormorants, and obtaining fine specimens of both. As the breeding places and the modes of life of these animals have been described by other travelers, there is nothing new to add from his impressions, until the vessel anchored, on the 16th March, before Sandy Point, the only permanent settlement in the Strait.
Here there was a pause of several days, which gave Agassiz an opportunity to draw the seine with large results for his marine collections. By the courtesy of the Governor, he had also an opportunity of making an excursion along the road leading to the coal-mines. The wooded cliffs, as one ascends the hills toward the mines, are often bold and picturesque, and Agassiz found that portions of them were completely built of fossil shells. There is an oyster-bank, some one hundred feet high, overhanging the road in massive ledges that consist wholly of oyster-valves, with only earth enough to bind them together. He was inclined, from the character of the shells, to believe that the coal must be cretaceous rather than tertiary.
On Tuesday, the 19th March, the Hassler left Sandy Point. The weather was beautiful,–a mellow autumn day with a reminiscence of summer in its genial warmth. The cleft summit of Sarmiento was clear against the sky, and the snow-fields, swept over by alternate light and shadow, seemed full of soft undulations. The evening anchorage was in the Bay of Port Famine, a name which marks the site of Sarmiento’s ill-fated colony, and recalls the story of the men who watched and waited there for the help that never came. The stay here was short, and Agassiz spent the time almost wholly in studying the singularly regular, but completely upturned strata which line the beach, with edges so worn down as to be almost completely even with each other.
For many days after this, the Hassler pursued her course, past a seemingly endless panorama of mountains and forests rising into the pale regions of snow and ice, where lay glaciers in which every rift and crevasse, as well as the many cascades flowing down to join the waters beneath, could be counted as she steamed by them. Every night she anchored in the sheltered harbors formed by the inlets and fords which break the base of the rocky walls, and often lead into narrower ocean defiles penetrating, one knows not whither, into the deeper heart of these great mountain masses.
These were weeks of exquisite delight to Agassiz. The vessel often skirted the shore so closely that its geology could be studied from the deck. The rounded shoulders of the mountains, in marked contrast to their peaked and jagged crests, the general character of the snow-fields and glaciers, not crowded into narrow valleys as in Switzerland, but spread out on the open slopes of the loftier ranges, or, dome like, capping their summits,–all this afforded data for comparison with his past experience, and with the knowledge he had accumulated upon like phenomena in other regions. Here, as in the Alps, the abrupt line, where the rounded and worn surfaces of the mountains (moutonnees, as the Swiss say) yield to their sharply cut, jagged crests, showed him the ancient and highest line reached by the glacial action. The long, serrated edge of Mount Tarn, for instance, is like a gigantic saw, while the lower shoulders of the mass are hummocked into a succession of rounded hills. In like manner the two beautiful valleys, separated by a bold bluff called Bachelor’s Peak, are symmetrically rounded on their slopes, while their summits are jagged and rough.
On one occasion the Hassler encountered one of those sudden and startling flaws of wind common to the Strait. The breeze, which had been strong all day, increased with sudden fury just as the vessel was passing through a rather narrow channel, which gave the wind the additional force of compression. In an inconceivably short time, the channel was lashed into a white foam; the roar of wind and water was so great you could not hear yourself speak, though the hoarse shout of command and the answering cry of the sailors rose above the storm. To add to the confusion, a loose sail slatted as if it would tear itself in pieces, with that sharp, angry, rending sound which only a broad spread of loose canvas can make. It became impossible to hold the vessel against the amazing power of the blast, and the Captain turned her round with the intention of putting her into Borja Bay, not far from which, by good fortune, she chanced to be. As she came broadside to the wind in turning, it seemed as if she must be blown over, so violently did she careen. Once safely round, she flew before the wind, which now became her ally instead of her enemy, and by its aid she was soon abreast of Borja Bay. Never was there a more sudden transition from chaos to peace than that which ensued as she turned in from the tumult in the main channel to the quiet waters of the bay. The Hassler almost filled the tiny harbor shut in between mountains. She lay there safe and sheltered in breathless calm, while the storm raged and howled outside. These frequent, almost land-locked coves, are the safety of navigators in these straits; but after this day’s experience, it was easy to understand how sailing vessels may be kept waiting for months between two such harbors, struggling vainly to make a few miles and constantly driven back by sudden squalls.
In this exquisite mountain-locked harbor, the vessel was weather-bound for a couple of days. Count Pourtales availed himself of this opportunity to ascend one of the summits. Up to a height of fifteen hundred feet, the rock was characterized by the smoothed, rounded surfaces which Agassiz had observed along his whole route in the Strait. Above that height all was broken and rugged, the line of separation being as defined as on any valley wall in Switzerland. It was again impossible to decide, on such short observation, whether these effects were due to local glacial action, or whether they belonged to an earlier general ice-period. But Agassiz became satisfied, as he advanced, that the two sets of phenomena existed together, as in the northern hemisphere. The general aspect of the opposite walls of the Strait confirmed him in the idea that the sheet of ice in its former extension had advanced from south to north, grinding its way against and over the southern wall to the plains beyond. In short, he was convinced that, as a sheet of ice has covered the northern portion of the globe, so a sheet of ice has covered also the southern portion, advancing, in both instances, far toward the equatorial regions. His observations in Europe, in North America, and in Brazil seemed here to have their closing chapter.
With these facts in his mind, he did not fail to pause before Glacier Bay, noted for its immense glacier, which seems, as seen from the main channel, to plunge sheer down into the waters of the bay. A boat party was soon formed to accompany him to the glacier. It proved less easy of access than it looked at a distance. A broad belt of wood, growing, as Agassiz afterward found, on an accumulation of old terminal moraines, spanned the lower valley from side to side. Through this wood there poured a glacial river, emptying itself into the bay. Strange to say, this glacier-washed forest, touching the ice on one side and the sea on the other, was full of flowers. The red bells of the glossy-leaved Desfontainia, the lovely pink blossoms of the Phylesia, the crimson berries of the Pennetia, stood out in bright relief from a background of mossy tree-trunks and rocks. After an hour’s walking, made laborious by the spongy character of the ground,–a mixture of loose soil and decaying vegetation, in which one sank knee-deep,–the gleam of the ice began to shimmer through the trees; and issuing from the wood, the party found themselves in front of a glacier wall, stretching across the whole valley and broken into deep rifts, caves, and crevasses of dark blue ice. The glacier was actually about a mile wide; but as the central portion was pressed forward in advance of the sides, the whole front was not presented at once. It formed a sharp crescent, with the curve turned outward. One of the caves in this front wall was some thirty or forty feet high, about a hundred feet deep, and two or three yards wide at the entrance. At the further end it narrowed to a mere gallery, where the roof was pierced by a circular window, quite symmetrical in shape, through which one looked up to the blue sky and drifting clouds. There must be strange effects in this ice-cavern, when the sun is high and sends a shaft of light through its one window to illuminate the interior.
This first excursion was a mere reconnaissance. An approximate idea of the dimensions of the glacier, and some details of its structure, were obtained on a second visit the following day. The anchorage for the night was in Playa Parda Cove, one of the most beautiful of the many beautiful harbors of the Magellan Strait. It is entered by a deep, narrow slit, cut into the mountains on the northern side of the Strait, and widening at its farther end into a kind of pocket or basin, hemmed in between rocky walls bordered by forests, and overhung by snow and ice-fields. The next morning at half-past three o’clock, just as moonlight was fading before the dawn, and the mountains were touched with the coming day, the reveille was sounded for those who were to return to Glacier Bay. This time Agassiz divided his force so that they could act independently of each other, though under a general plan laid out by him. M. de Pourtales and Dr. Steindachner ascended the mountain to the left of the valley, following its ridge, in the hope of reaching a position from which they could discover the source and the full length of the glacier. In this they did not succeed, though M. de Pourtales estimated its length, as far as he could see from any one point, to be about three miles, beyond which it was lost in the higher range. It made part of a net-work of glaciers running back into a large massif of mountains, and fed by many a neve on their upper slopes. The depth as well as the length of this glacier remains somewhat problematical, and indeed all the estimates in so cursory a survey must be considered as approximations rather than positive results. The glazed surface of the ice is an impediment to any examination from the upper side. It would be impossible to spring from brink to brink of a crevasse, as is so constantly done by explorers of Alpine glaciers where the edges of the cracks are often snowy or granular. Here the edges of the crevasses are sharp and hard, and to spring across one of any size would be almost certain death. There is no hold for an Alpine stock, no grappling point for hands or feet. Any investigation from the upper surface would, therefore, require special apparatus, and much more time than Agassiz and his party could give. Neither was an approach from the side very easy. The glacier arches so much in the centre, and slopes away so steeply, that when one is in the lateral depression between it and the mountain, one faces an almost perpendicular wall of ice, which blocks the vision completely. M. de Pourtales measured one of the crevasses in this wall, and found that it had a depth of some seventy feet. Judging from the remarkable convexity of the glacier, it can hardly be less in the centre than two or three times its thickness on the edges, –something over two hundred feet, therefore. Probably none of these glaciers of the Strait of Magellan are as thick as those of Switzerland, though they are often much broader. The mountains are not so high, the valleys not so deep, as in the Alps; the ice is consequently not packed into such confined troughs. By some of the party an attempt was made to ascertain the rate of movement, signals having been adjusted the day before for its measurement. During the middle of the day, it advanced at the rate of ten inches and a fraction in five hours. One such isolated observation is of course of little comparative value. For himself, Agassiz reserved the study of the bay, the ancient bed of the glacier in its former extension. He spent the day in cruising about the bay in the steam-launch, landing at every point he wished to investigate. His first care was to examine minutely the valley walls over which the glacier must once have moved. Every characteristic feature, known in the Alps as the work of the glaciers, was not only easily recognizable here, but as perfectly preserved as anywhere in Switzerland. The rounded knolls to which De Saussure first gave the name of roches moutonnees were smoothed, polished, scratched, and grooved in the direction of the ice movement, the marks running mostly from south to north, or nearly so. The general trend of the scratches and furrows showed them to have been continuous from one knoll to another. The furrows were of various dimensions, sometimes shallow and several inches broad, sometimes narrow with more defined limits, gradually passing into mere lines on a very smoothly polished surface. Even the curious notches scooped out of the even surfaces, and technically called “coups de gouge,” were not wanting. In some places the seams of harder rock stood out for a quarter of an inch or so above adjoining decomposed surfaces; in such instances the dike alone retained the glacial marks, which had been worn away from the softer rock.
The old moraines were numerous and admirably well preserved. Agassiz examined with especial care one colossal lateral moraine, standing about two miles below the present terminus of the ice and five hundred feet above the sea-level. It consisted of the same rocks as those found on the present terminal moraine, part of them being rounded and worn, while large, angular boulders rested above the smaller materials. This moraine forms a dam across a trough in the valley wall, and holds back the waters of a beautiful lake, about a thousand feet in length and five hundred in width, shutting it in just as the Lake of Meril in Switzerland is held in its basin by the glacier of Aletsch. There are erratics some two or three hundred feet above this great moraine, showing that the glacier must have been more than five hundred feet thick when it left this accumulation of loose materials at such a height. It then united, however, with a large glacier more to the west. Its greatest thickness, as an independent glacier, is no doubt marked, not by the boulders lying higher up, but by the large moraine which shuts in the lake. The direct connection of this moraine with the glacier in its former extension is still further shown by two other moraines, on lower levels and less perfect, but having the same relation to the present terminus of the ice. The lower of these is only one hundred and fifty feet above the actual level of the glacier. These three moraines occur on the western slope of the bay. The eastern slope is more broken, and while the rounded knolls are quite as distinct and characteristic, the erratics are more loosely scattered over the surface. In mineralogical character they agree with those on the western wall of the bay. Upon the summits of some small islands at the entrance of the bay, there are also some remnants of terminal moraines, formed by the glacier when it reached the main channel; that is, when it was some three miles longer than now.
The more recent oscillations, marking the advance and retreat of the glacier within certain limits, are shown by the successive moraines heaped up in advance of the present terminal wall. The central motion here, as in all the Swiss glaciers, is greater than the lateral, the ice being pushed forward in the middle faster than on the sides. But there would seem to be more than one axis of progression in this broad mass of ice; for though the centre is pushed out beyond the rest, the terminal wall does not present one uniform curve, but forms a number of more or less projecting angles or folds. A few feet in front of this wall is a ridge of loose materials, stones, pebbles, and boulders, repeating exactly the outline of the ice where it now stands; a few feet in advance of this, again, is another ridge precisely like it; still a few feet beyond, another; and so on, for four or five concentric zigzag crescent-shaped moraines, followed by two others more or less marked, till they fade into the larger morainic mass, upon which stands the belt of wood dividing the present glacier from the bay. Agassiz counted eight distinct moraines between the glacier and the belt of wood, and four concentric moraines in the wood itself. It is plain that the glacier has ploughed into the forest within some not very remote period, for the trees along its margin are loosened and half uprooted, though not yet altogether decayed. In the presence of the glacier one ceases to wonder at the effects produced by so powerful an agent. This sheet of ice, even in its present reduced extent, is about a mile in width, several miles in length, and at least two hundred feet in depth. Moving forward as it does ceaselessly, and armed below with a gigantic file, consisting of stones, pebbles, and gravel, firmly set in the ice, who can wonder that it should grind, furrow, round, and polish the surfaces over which it slowly drags its huge weight. At once destroyer and fertilizer, it uproots and blights hundreds of trees in its progress, yet feeds a forest at its feet with countless streams; it grinds the rocks to powder in its merciless mill, and then sends them down, a fructifying soil, to the wooded shore below.
Agassiz would gladly have stayed longer in the neighborhood of Glacier Bay, and have made it the central point of a more detailed examination of the glacial phenomena in the Strait. But the southern winter was opening, and already gave signs of its approach. At dawn on the 26th of March, therefore, the Hassler left her beautiful anchorage in Playa Parda Cove, six large glaciers being in sight from her deck as she came out. The scenery during the morning had a new scientific interest for Agassiz, because the vessel kept along the northern side of the Strait, while the course hitherto had been nearer the southern shore. He could thus better compare the differences between the two walls of the Strait. The fact that the northern wall is more evenly worn, more rounded than the southern, had a special significance for him, as corresponding with like facts in Switzerland, and showing that the ice-sheet had advanced across the Strait with greater force in its ascending than in its descending path. The north side being the strike side, the ice would have pushed against it with greater force. Such a difference between the two sides of any hollow or depression in the direct path of the ice is well known in Switzerland.
Later in the day, a pause was made in Chorocua Bay, where Captain Mayne’s chart makes mention of a glacier descending into the water. There is, indeed, a large glacier on its western side, but so inaccessible, that any examination of it would have required days rather than hours. No one, however, regretted the afternoon spent here, for the bay was singularly beautiful. On either side, deep gorges, bordered by richly-wooded cliffs and overhung by ice and snow-fields, were cut into the mountains. Where these channels might lead, into what dim recesses of ocean and mountain, could only be conjectured. The bay, with all its inlets and fiords, was still as a church. Voices and laughter seemed an intrusion, and a louder shout came back in echoes from far-off hidden retreats. Only the swift steamer-ducks, as they shot across, broke the glassy surface of the water with their arrow-like wake. From this point the Hassler crossed to Sholl Bay, and anchored at the entrance of Smythe’s Channel. As sunset faded over the snow mountains opposite her anchorage, their white reflection lay like marble in the water.
CHAPTER 24.
1872: AGE 65.
Picnic in Sholl Bay.
Fuegians.
Smythe’s Channel.
Comparison of Glacial Features with those of the Strait of Magellan. Ancud.
Port of San Pedro.
Bay of Concepcion.
Three Weeks in Talcahuana.
Collections.
Geology.
Land Journey to Santiago.
Scenes along the Road.
Report on Glacial Features to Mr. Peirce. Arrival at Santiago.
Election as Foreign Associate of the Institute of France. Valparaiso.
The Galapagos.
Geological and Zoological Features. Arrival at San Francisco.
The next day forces were divided. The vessel put out into the Strait again for sounding and dredging, while Agassiz, with a smaller party, landed in Sholl Bay. Here, after having made a fire and pitched a tent in which to deposit wraps, provisions etc., the company dispersed in various directions along the shore, geologizing, botanizing, and collecting. Agassiz was especially engaged in studying the structure of the beach itself. He found that the ridge of the beach was formed by a glacial moraine, while accumulations of boulders, banked up in morainic ridges, concentric with one another and with the beach moraine, extended far out from the shore like partly sunken reefs. The pebbles and boulders of these ridges were not local, or, at least, only partially so; they had the same geological character as those of the drift material throughout the Strait.
The day was favorable for work, and there was little to remind one of approaching winter. A creek of fresh water, that ran out upon one part of the beach, led up to a romantic brook, rushing down through a gorge bordered by moss-grown trees and carpeted by ferns and lichens in all its nooks and corners. This brook took its rise in a small lake lying some half a mile behind the beach. The collections made along the shore in this excursion were large and various: star-fish, volutas, sea-urchins, sea-anemones, medusae, doris; many small fishes, also, from the tide-pools, beside a number drawn in the seine.
Later in the day, when the party had assembled around the beach fire for rest and refreshment, before returning to the vessel, their lunch was interrupted by strange and unexpected guests. A boat rounded the point of the beach, and, as it came nearer, proved to be full of Fuegian natives, men, women, children, and dogs, their invariable companions. The men alone landed, some six or seven in number, and came toward the tent. Nothing could be more coarse and repulsive than their appearance, in which the brutality of the savage was in no way redeemed by physical strength or manliness. They were almost naked, for the short, loose skins tied around the neck, and hanging from the shoulders, over the back, partly to the waist, could hardly be called clothing. With swollen bodies, thin limbs, and stooping forms; with a childish, yet cunning, leer on their faces, they crouched over the fire, spreading their hands toward its genial warmth, and all shrieking at once, “Tabac! tabac!” and “Galleta!”–biscuit. Tobacco there was none; but the remains of the lunch, such as it was,–hard bread and pork,–was distributed among them, and they greedily devoured it. Then the one who, judging from a certain deference paid him by the others, might be the chief, or leader, seated himself on a stone and sang in a singular kind of monotonous, chanting tone. The words, as interpreted by the gestures and expressions, seemed to be an improvisation concerning the strangers they had found upon the beach, and were evidently addressed to them. There was something curious in the character of this Fuegian song. Rather recitative than singing, the measure had, nevertheless, certain divisions or pauses, as if to mark a kind of rhythm. It was brought to a close at regularly recurring intervals, and ended always in the same way, and on the same note, with a rising inflection of the voice. When the song was finished, a certain surprise and expectancy in the listeners kept them silent. This seemed to trouble the singer, who looked round with a comical air of inquiring disappointment. Thus reminded, the audience were quick to applaud, and then he laughed with pleasure, imitated the clapping of the hands in an awkward way, and nothing loth, began to sing again.
The recall gun from the Hassler brought this strange scene to a close, and the party hastened down to the beach, closely followed by their guests, who still clamorously demanded tobacco. Meanwhile the women had brought the boat close to that of the Hassler at the landing. They all began to laugh, talk, and gesticulate, and seemed a noisy grew, chattering unceasingly, with amazing rapidity, and all together. Their boat, with the babies and dogs to add to the tumult, was a perfect babel of voices. They put off at once, keeping as close as they could to the Hassler boat, and reaching the vessel almost at the same time. They were not allowed to come on board, but tobacco and biscuit, as well as bright calico and beads for the women, were thrown down to them. They scrambled and snatched fiercely, like wild animals, for whatever they could catch. They had some idea of barter, for when they found they had received all that they were likely to get gratuitously, they held up bows and arrows, wicker baskets, birds, and the large sea-urchins, which are an article of food with them. Even after the steamer had started, they still clung to the side, praying, shrieking, screaming, for more “tabac.” When they found it a hopeless chase, they dropped off, and began again the same chanting recitative, waving their hands in farewell.
Always interested in the comparative study of the races, Agassiz regretted that he had no other opportunity of observing the natives of this region and comparing them with the Indians he had seen elsewhere, in Brazil and in the United States. It is true that he and his companions, when on shore, frequently came upon their deserted camps, or single empty huts; and their canoes followed the Hassler several times, but never when it was convenient to stop and let them come up with the vessel. This particular set were not in a canoe, but in a large boat of English build. Probably they had stolen it, or had found it, perhaps, stranded on the shore. They are usually, however, in canoes of their own making. One can only wonder that people ingenious enough to construct canoes so well modeled and so neatly and strongly put together, should have invented nothing better in the way of a house than a hut built of flexible branches, compared with which a wigwam is an elaborate dwelling. These huts are hood-like in shape, and too low for any posture but that of squatting or lying down. In front is always a scorched spot on the ground, where their handful of fire has smouldered; and at one side, a large heap of empty shells, showing that they had occupied this place until they had exhausted the supply of mussels, on which they chiefly live. When this is the case, they move to some other spot, gather a few branches, reconstruct their frail shelter, and continue the same life. Untaught by their necessities, they wander thus, naked and homeless, in snow, mist, and rain, as they have done for ages, asking of the land only a strip of beach and a handful of fire; and of the ocean, shell-fish enough to save them from starvation.
The Hassler had now fairly entered upon Smythe’s Channel, and was anchored at evening (March 27th) in Otway Bay, a lake-like harbor, broken by islands. Mount Burney, a noble, snow-covered mountain, corresponding to Mount Sarmiento in grandeur of outline, was in full view, but was partially veiled in mist. On the following day, however, the weather was perfect for the sail past Sarmiento Range and Snowy Glacier, which were in sight all day. Blue could not be more deep and pure, nor white more spotless, than their ice and snow-fields. Toward the latter part of the day, an immense expanse of snow opened out a little beyond Snowy Range. It was covered with the most curious snow hummocks, forming high cones over the whole surface, their shadows slanting over the glittering snow in the afternoon sunshine. They were most fantastic in shape, and some fifty or sixty in number. At first sight, they resembled heaped-up mounds or pyramids of snow; but as the vessel approached, one group of them, so combined as to simulate a fortification, showed a face of rock where the snow had been blown away, and it seemed therefore probable that all were alike,–snow-covered pinnacles of rock.
The evening anchorage on the 28th was in Mayne’s Harbor, a pretty inlet of Owen’s Island. Here the vessel was detained for twenty-four hours by the breaking of the reversing rod. The engineers repaired it to the best of their ability, with such apparatus as they had, but it was a source of anxiety till a port was reached where a new one could be supplied. The detention, had it not been for such a cause, was welcome to the scientific party. Agassiz found the rounded and moutonnees surfaces and the general modeling of the outlines of ice no less marked here than in the Strait; and in a ramble over the hills above the anchorage, M. de Pourtales came upon very distinct glacial scorings and furrows on dikes and ledges of greenstone and syenite. They were perfectly regular, and could be connected by their trend from ledge to ledge, across intervening spaces of softer decomposed rock, from which all such surface markings had disappeared.
The country above Mayne’s Harbor was pretty, though somewhat barren. Beyond the narrow belt of woods bordering the shore, the walking was over soggy hummocks, with little growth upon them except moss, lichens, and coarse marsh grass. These were succeeded by ridges of crumbling rock, between which were numerous small lakes. The land seemed very barren of life. Even the shores of the ponds were hardly inhabited. No song of bird or buzz of insect broke the stillness. Rock after rock was turned over in the vain expectation of finding living things on the damp under side at least; and the cushions of moss were broken up in the same fruitless chase. All was barren and lifeless. Not so on the shore, where the collecting went on rapidly. Dredge and nets were at work all the morning, and abundant collections were made also from the little nooks and inlets of the beach. Agassiz found two new jelly-fishes, and christened them at once as the locality suggested, one for Captain Mayne, the other for Professor Owen. Near the shore, birds also seemed more abundant. A pair of kelp-geese and a steamer duck were brought in, and one of the officers reported humming-birds flitting across the brook from which the Hassler’s tanks were filled.
Early on the morning of the 30th, while mountains and snow-fields, woodland and water, still lay between moonlight and sunrise, the Hassler started for Tarn Bay. It was a beautiful Easter Sunday, with very little wind, and a soft sky, broken by few clouds. But such beginnings are too apt to be delusive in this region of wet and fog, and a heavy rain, with thick mist, came up in the afternoon. That night, for the first time, the Hassler missed her anchorage, and lay off the shore near an island, which afforded some protection from the wind. A forlorn hope was detailed to the shore, where a large fire was kept burning all night, that the vessel might not lose her bearings and drift away. In the morning all was right again, and she kept on her course to Rowlet Narrows.
This passage is formed by a deep gorge, cleft between lofty walls over which many a waterfall foams from reservoirs of snow above. Agassiz observed two old glacier beds on the western side of the pass–two shallow depressions, lying arid and scored between swelling wooded ridges. He had not met in all the journey a better locality for the study of glacial effects than here. The sides of the channel show these traces throughout their whole length. In this same neighborhood, as a conspicuous foreground on the shore of Indian Reach, to the south of Lackawanna Cove, is a large moraine resembling the “horse-backs,” in the State of Maine, New England. The top was as level as a railroad embankment. The anchorage for the night was in Eden Harbor, and for that evening, at least, it was lovely enough to deserve its name. The whole expanse of its land-locked waters, held between mountains and broken by islands, was rosy and purple in the setting sun. The gates of the garden were closed, however, not by a flaming sword, but by an impenetrable forest, along the edge of which a scanty rim of beach