The Existence of God | Page 5

an invincible averseness to that
opinion in so many men of sense? It is because they suppose, with
reason, that motions so exact, and according to the rules of perfect
mechanism, cannot be made without some industry; and that artless
matter alone cannot perform what argues so much knowledge. Hence it
appears that sound reason naturally concludes that matter alone cannot,

either by the simple laws of motion, or by the capricious strokes of
chance, make even animals that are mere machines. Those philosophers
themselves, who will not allow beasts to have any reasoning faculty,
cannot avoid acknowledging that what they suppose to be blind and
artless in these machines is yet full of wisdom and art in the First
Mover, who made their springs and regulated their movements. Thus
the most opposite philosophers perfectly agree in acknowledging that
matter and chance cannot, without the help of art, produce all we
observe in animals.
SECT. IX. A Particular Examination of Nature.
After these comparisons, about which I only desire the reader to consult
himself, without any argumentation, I think it is high time to enter into
a detail of Nature. I do not pretend to penetrate through the whole; who
is able to do it? Neither do I pretend to enter into any physical
discussion. Such way of reasoning requires a certain deep knowledge,
which abundance of men of wit and sense never acquired; and,
therefore, I will offer nothing to them but the simple prospect of the
face of Nature. I will entertain them with nothing but what everybody
knows, and which requires only a little calm and serious attention.
SECT. X. Of the General Structure of the Universe.
Let us, in the first place, stop at the great object that first strikes our
sight, I mean the general structure of the universe. Let us cast our eyes
on this earth that bears us. Let us look on that vast arch of the skies that
covers us; those immense regions of air, and depths of water that
surround us; and those bright stars that light us. 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. In the compass of one year it turns into branches, twigs, buds,
leaves, blossoms, fruits, and seeds, in order, by those various shapes, to
multiply its liberalities to mankind. Nothing exhausts the earth; the
more we tear her bowels the more she is liberal. After so many ages,
during which she has produced everything, she is not yet worn out. She
feels no decay from old age, and her entrails still contain the same
treasures. A thousand generations have passed away, and returned into
her bosom. Everything grows old, she alone excepted: for she grows
young again every year in the spring. She is never wanting to men; but
foolish men are wanting to themselves in neglecting to cultivate her. It
is through their laziness and extravagance they suffer brambles and
briars to grow instead of grapes and corn. They contend for a good they
let perish. The conquerors leave uncultivated the ground for the
possession of which they have sacrificed the lives of so many thousand
men,