A man who lives without reflecting thinks only on
the parts of matter that are near him, or have any relation to his
wants. He only looks upon the earth as on the floor of his chamber,
and on the sun that lights him in the daytime as on the candle that
lights him in the night. His thoughts are confined within the place
he inhabits. On the contrary, a man who is used to contemplate and
reflect carries his looks further, and curiously considers the
almost infinite abysses that surround him on all sides. A large
kingdom appears then to him but a little corner of the earth; the
earth itself is no more to his eyes than a point in the mass of the
universe; and he admires to see himself placed in it, without
knowing which way he came there.
SECT. XI. Of the Earth.
Who is it that hung and poised this motionless globe of the earth?
Who laid its foundation? Nothing seems more vile and contemptible;
for the meanest wretches tread it under foot; but yet it is in order
to possess it that we part with the greatest treasures. If it were
harder than it is, man could not open its bosom to cultivate it; and
if it were less hard it could not bear them, and they would sink
everywhere as they do in sand, or in a bog. It is from the
inexhaustible bosom of the earth we draw what is most precious.
That shapeless, vile, and rude mass assumes the most various forms;
and yields alone, by turns, all the goods we can desire. That dirty
soil transforms itself into a thousand fine objects that charm the
eye.
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