The Existence of God | Page 6

and have spent their own in hurry and trouble. Men have before
them vast tracts of land uninhabited and uncultivated; and they turn
mankind topsy-turvy for one nook of that neglected ground in dispute.
The earth, if well cultivated, would feed a hundred times more men
than now she does. Even the unevenness of ground which at first seems
to be a defect turns either into ornament or profit. The mountains arose
and the valleys descended to the place the Lord had appointed for them.
Those different grounds have their particular advantages, according to

the divers aspects of the sun. In those deep valleys grow fresh and
tender grass to feed cattle. Next to them opens a vast champaign
covered with a rich harvest. Here, hills rise like an amphitheatre, and
are crowned with vineyards and fruit trees. There high mountains carry
aloft their frozen brows to the very clouds, and the torrents that run
down from them become the springs of rivers. The rocks that show
their craggy tops bear up the earth of mountains just as the bones bear
up the flesh in human bodies. That variety yields at once a ravishing
prospect to the eye, and, at the same time, supplies the divers wants of
man. There is no ground so barren but has some profitable property.
Not only black and fertile soil but even clay and gravel recompense a
man's toil. Drained morasses become fruitful; sand for the most part
only covers the surface of the earth; and when, the husbandman has the
patience to dig deeper he finds a new ground that grows fertile as fast
as it is turned and exposed to the rays of the sun.
There is scarce any spot of ground absolutely barren if a man do not
grow weary of digging, and turning it to the enlivening sun, and if he
require no more from it than it is proper to bear, amidst stones and
rocks there is sometimes excellent pasture; and their cavities have veins,
which, being penetrated by the piercing rays of the sun, furnish plants
with most savoury juices for the feeding of herds and flocks. Even
sea-coasts that seem to be the most sterile and wild yield sometimes
either delicious fruits or most wholesome medicines that are wanting in
the most fertile countries. Besides, it is the effect of a wise over-ruling
providence that no land yields all that is useful to human life. For want
invites men to commerce, in order to supply one another's necessities.
It is therefore that want that is the natural tie of society between nations:
otherwise all the people of the earth would be reduced to one sort of
food and clothing; and nothing would invite them to know and visit one
another.
SECT. XII. Of Plants.
All that the earth produces being corrupted, returns into her bosom, and
becomes the source of a new production. Thus she resumes all she has
given in order to give it again. Thus the corruption of plants, and the

excrements of the animals she feeds, feed her, and improve her fertility.
Thus, the more she gives the more she resumes; and she is never
exhausted, provided they who cultivate her restore to her what she has
given. Everything comes from her bosom, everything returns to it, and
nothing is lost in it. Nay, all seeds multiply there. If, for instance, you
trust the earth with some grains of corn, as they corrupt they germinate
and spring; and that teeming parent restores with usury more ears than
she had received grains. Dig into her entrails, you will find in them
stone and marble for the most magnificent buildings. But who is it that
has laid up so many treasures in her bosom, upon condition that they
should continually produce themselves anew? Behold how many
precious and useful metals; how many minerals designed for the
conveniency of man!
Admire the plants that spring from the earth: they yield food for the
healthy, and remedies for the sick. Their species and virtues are
innumerable. They deck the earth, yield verdure, fragrant flowers, and
delicious fruits. Do you see those vast forests that seem as old as the
world? Those trees sink into the earth by their roots, as deep as their
branches shoot up to the sky. Their roots defend them against the winds,
and fetch up, as it were by subterranean pipes, all the juices destined to
feed the trunk. The trunk itself is covered with a tough bark that
shelters the tender wood from the injuries of the air. The branches
distribute by several pipes the sap which the roots had gathered up in
the trunk. In summer the boughs protect us with their shadow against
the scorching rays of the sun. In winter, they feed