the term Geology everything we can know about our world as a whole, exclusive of what Astronomy teaches as to it, dividing Geology in general into Physical Geology—the boundaries of which are very indistinct—and Stratigraphical Geology, whose limits are equally so.

It has been often said that Geology in this widest sense begins where Astronomy or Cosmogony ends its information as to our globe, but this is scarcely true.

Vulcanicity—or Geology, if we choose to make it comprehend that—must commence its survey of our world as a nebula upon which, for unknown ages, thermic, gravitant and chemical forces were operative, and to the final play of which, the form, density and volume, as well as order of deposition of the different elements in the order of their chemical combination and deposition was due, when first our globe became a liquid or partly liquid spheroid, and which have equally determined the chemical nature of the materials of the outward rind of the earth that now is, and with these some of the primary conditions that have fixed the characters, nature and interdependence of the vegetables and animals that inhabit it. Physical Astronomy and Physical Geology, through Vulcanicity, thus overlap each other; the first does not end where the second begins; and in every sure attempt to bring Geology to that pinnacle which is the proper ideal of its completed design—namely, the interpretation of our world's machine, as part of the universal Cosmos (so far as that can ever become known to our limited observation and intelligence)—we must carry with us astronomic considerations, we must keep in view events anterior to the "status consistentior" of Leibnitz, nor lose sight of the fact that the chain of causation is one endless and unbroken; that forces first set moving, we know not when or how, the dim remoteness of which imagination tries to sound in shadowy thought, like those of the grand old Eastern poem, "When the morning stars first sang together," are, however changed in form, operative still. The light and fragile butterfly, whose glorious garb irradiates the summer zephyr in which it floats, has had its power of flight—which is its power to live—determined by results of that same chain of causes that lifted from the depths the mountain on whose sunny side he floats, that has determined the seasons and the colour of the flower whose nectar he sucks, and that discharges or dissipates the storm above, that may crush the insect and the blossom in which it basked. And thus, as has been said, it was not all a myth, that in older days affirmed that in some mysterious way the actions and the lives of men were linked to the stars in their courses.

Whatever may have been the manifestations of Vulcanicity at former and far remoter epochs of our planet, and to which I shall return, in the existing state of regimen of and upon our globe it shows itself chiefly in the phenomena of Volcanoes and of Earthquakes, which are the subjects of Vulcanology and of Seismology respectively, and in principal part, also, of this Introduction.

The phenomena of hot springs, geysers, etc., which might be included under the title of Thermopægology, have certain relations to both, but more immediately to Vulcanology.

Let us now glance at the history and progress of knowledge in these two chief domains of Vulcanicity, preparatory to a sketch of its existing stage as to both, and, by the way, attempt to extract a lesson as to the methods by which such success as has attended our labours has been achieved.

It will be most convenient to treat of Seismology first in order.

Aristotle—who devotes a larger space of his Fourth Book, Περἱ Κοσμου, to Earthquakes—Seneca, Pliny, Strabo, in the so-called classic days, and thence no end of writers down to about the end of the seventeenth century—amongst whom Fromondi (1527) and Travagini (1679) are, perhaps, the most important now—have filled volumes with records of facts, or what they took to be such, of Earthquakes, as handed down to or observed by themselves, and with plenty of hypotheses as to their nature and origin, but sterile of much real knowledge.

Hooke's "Discourses of Earthquakes," read before the Royal Society about 1690, afford a curious example of how abuse of words once given by authority clings as a hindrance to progress. He had formed no distinct idea of what he meant by an Earthquake, and so confusedly mixes up all elevations or depressions of a permanent character with "subversions, conversions and transpositions of parts of the earth," however sudden or transitory, under the name of Earthquakes.

A like confusion is far from uncommon amongst geological writers, even at the present day, and examples might be quoted from very late writings of even some of the great leaders of English Geology.

From the seventeenth to the middle of the eighteenth century one finds floods of hypotheses from Flamsteed, Höttinger, Amontons, Stukeley, Beccaria, Percival, Priestly, and a crowd of others, in which electricity, then attracting so much attention, is often called upon to supply causation for a something of which no clear idea had been formed. Count Bylandt's singular work, published in 1835, though showing a curious partial insight in point of advancement, might be put back into that preceding period.

In 1760 appeared the very remarkable Paper, in the fifty-first volume of the "Philosophical Transactions," of the Rev. John Mitchell, of Cambridge, in which he views an Earthquake as a sudden lifting up, by a rapid evolution of steam or gas beneath, of a portion of the earth's crust, and the lateral transfer of this gaseous bubble beneath the earth's crust, bent to follow its shape and motion, or that of a wave of liquid rock beneath, like a carpet shaken on air. Great as are certain collateral merits of Mitchell's Paper, showing observation of various sorts much in advance of his time, this notion of an Earthquake is such as, had he applied to it even the imperfect knowledge of mechanics and physics then possessed in a definite manner, he could scarcely have failed to see its untenable nature. That the same notion, and in a far more extravagant form, should have been reproduced in 1843 by Messrs. Rogers, by whom the gigantic parallel anticlinals, flanks and valleys of the whole Appalachian chain of mountains are taken for nothing more than the indurated foldings and wrinkles of Mitchell's carpet, is one of the most salient examples of the abuse of hypothesis untested by exact science.

Neither Humboldt nor Darwin, great as were the opportunities of observation enjoyed by both, can be supposed to have formed any definite idea of what an Earthquake is; and the latter, who had observed well the effects of great sea-waves rolling in-shore after the shock, did not establish any clear relation between the two.[A]

Hitherto no one appears to have formed any clear notion as to what an Earthquake is—that is to say, any clear idea of what is the nature of the movement constituting the shock, no matter what may be the nature or origin of the movement itself. The first glimmering of such an idea, so far as my reading has enabled me to ascertain, is due to the penetrating genius of Dr. Thomas Young, who, in his "Lectures on Natural Philosophy," published in 1807, casually suggests the probability that earthquake motions are vibratory, and are analogous to those of sound.