The debt which Scotland, and the world with it, owes to the genius of James Hutton cannot easily be measured. His Theory of the Earth, published in two octavo volumes in 1795, has long been universally recognised as one of the great classics of science. Not only did it open up new worlds to research and speculation, but the principles it established revolutionised in course of time the whole trend of scientific thought. When we think, however, of Hutton's amazing achievement—amazing in its originality and its grandeur of conception—it is well to remember not only the profound and far-reaching influence which he exerted, but also the long years of patient observation and sustained reflection which went to the building of his immortal Theory. We should remember not only the Hutton of established and enduring fame, but also the alert and questing spirit who sought so long and so courageously for a key to the mysteries of the earth on which he lived, who dared to look backward into an illimitable past and forward into an incalculable future, and who, on the evidence wrested from the solid rocks, reached the startling and heretical conclusion—as, indeed, in his day it was—that in the operations of nature we find “no vestige of a beginning, no prospect of an end”.

One hundred and fifty years ago Edinburgh lost one of her most distinguished citizens of all time, James Hutton, who is universally acclaimed as chief among the founders of modern geology. To-day, Lord Provost Sir John Falconer, to whom the city owes so much in this triumphant Festival year, has fittingly unveiled a tablet in Greyfriars Churchyard to mark the last resting-place of our great scientist. It must not be imagined that the absence of a tombstone during all these years illustrates the proverbial lack of appreciation which a prophet must expect in his own country. During his lifetime Hutton's brilliant associates recognised him at his true worth; and shortly after his death one of them, John Playfair, distinguished mathematician and physicist, erected to his friend a noble monument in the world of letters, entitled Illustrations of the Huttonian Theory, 1802. He also provided the Royal Society of Edinburgh with a Biographical Account of 61 pp. 4to, 1803, which includes many personal details coupled with a comprehensive scientific appreciation.

In 1899 Sir Archibald Geikie edited and published the third volume of Hutton's Theory of the Earth. The two earlier volumes had been published as far back as 1795. In his preface Sir A. Geikie gives the history of the MS. from which the present volume was printed; and he provides at the end of the work not only an index of Vol. III, but also, and separately, a most valuable index of the two earlier volumes, in which we note three references to Arran. In Vol. Ill, however, the last and longest chapter is devoted to “An Examination of the Mineral History of the Island of Arran” (pp. 191–267).

Description of a little known anonymous pamphlet, an “Abstract” of the paper read before the Royal Society of Edinburgh, in 1785, in which James Hutton first announced publicly his famous Theory of the Earth. Reasons are advanced for concluding that Hutton himself was the author of the “Abstract”, and that it was published in 1785, some three years before the Royal Society paper was issued in the Society's Transactions. The writer concludes that the “Abstract”, and not, as has hitherto been supposed, the Transactions paper, constitutes the first form in which The Theory was published. The “Abstract” is reprinted in small type on p. 380.

As a river in its seaward course gathers volume and momentum from its tributaries, so does a science, from its inception to its attainment of maturity and beyond, increase its strength, scope and depth by incorporating into itself its historical past, built up by the contributions of those scientists and philosophers whose work marks stages in its progress. A history of science, to fulfil its purpose, must unravel the intricate strands of ideas and facts which form the fabric of modern science and trace them back to their inspiration and source. Such a history would be almost beyond the bounds of human endeavour, and its only practicable substitute tends to degenerate into a mere collection of names of scientists, combined with a review of their individual contributions to the development of science. Science, however, is neither an assemblage of facts nor of ideas. It is a co-ordinated system of facts linked by theories—with the emphasis, generally speaking, on the ideas—and within our limited capacity it can best be interpreted by reconstructing the lives and reliving the thoughts of those men who have done most to fashion it. Such a man was Isaac Newton and such also was James Hutton. It is of little profit to argue as to which was the greater mind. What Newton achieved in the field of astronomy and mathematics Hutton achieved in the field of geology. It was he who provided geology with a theory: and here we must take theory, not as something remote and opposed to fact, but in its original meaning in Greek, namely, comprehension.