236 ANNUAL REPORT SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTION, 1924 



lantic is advancing or receding, and on that account many of us 

 will find difficulty in consoling ourselves. 



Twice before I have had the very great honor of speaking here. 

 The first time in 1912, when I spoke of Atlantis. I discussed the 

 disappearance of Atlantis, its sinking into the abyss, at a very recent 

 period, so recent, as Plato tells us, that perhaps man was present at 

 the cataclysm and suffered from it. Tlie second time was in 1920; 

 I spoke then of the history of the oceans through the ages, the suc- 

 cessive formation of the Indian Ocean and the Atlantic by shrinkage 

 and, by contrast, the long persistence of the Pacific domain to the 

 state of special domain, perpetually agitated. 



The theory of Wegener has not greatly changed my ideas on 

 oceanic history, and I indeed believe I should speak to-day of Atlan- 

 tis, of the Indian Ocean, and of the Pacific as I spoke of them in 

 1912 and 1920. The theory of Wegener is to me a beautiful dream, 

 the dream of a great poet. One tries to embrace it, and finds that 

 he has in his arms but a little vapor or smoke ; it is at the same time 

 both alluring and intangible. 



But in all reality we can not conclude, we can not say, that there 

 is really nothing in Wegener's theory; neither can we affirm that it 

 does not contain some truth. Our knowledge is very limited. It is 

 always necessary to close a lecture on geology in humility. On the 

 ship earth which bears us into immensity toward an end which God 

 alone knows, we are steerage passengers. We are emigrants who 

 know only their own misfortune. The least ignorant among us, the 

 most daring, the most restless, ask ourselves questions; we demand 

 when the voyage of humanity began, how long it will last, how the 

 ship goes, why do its decks and hull vibrate, why do sounds some- 

 times come up from the hold and go out by the hatchway; we ask 

 what secrets do the depths of the strange vessel conceal and we 

 suffer from never knowing the secrets. Most of us content ourselves 

 with living, awaiting each day the morrow, which we hope will be 

 better. 



You and I are of the group of restless and daring ones who would 

 like to know and who are never satisfied with any response. We 

 hold ourselves together on the prow of the ship, attentive to all the 

 indications which come from the mysterious interior, or the monot- 

 onous sea, or the still more monotonous sky. We console each other 

 by speaking of the shore toward which we devoutly believe we sail, 

 where we shall indeed arrive, where we shall go ashore to-morrow, 

 perhaps. This shore not one of us has ever seen, but all would recog- 

 nize it without hesitation were it to appear on the horizon. For 

 it is the shore of the country of our dreams, where the air is so pure 

 there is no death, the country of all our desires, and its name is 

 " Truth." 



