Nature is that system of laws established by the Creator for regulating
the existence of bodies and the succession of beings. Nature is
therefore not a body, for if it were so, it would comprehend every
thing; neither is it a being, for in that case it would necessarily be
God. We must rather consider Nature as an immense living power, which
is in subordination to the Supreme Being, and by his command animates
the universe, and whose actions are dependent on, and continued by, his
concurrence or consent. This power is that part of Divine omnipotence
which is manifested to mankind; it is the cause and effect, the mode
and substance, the design and execution. Extremely different from all
human art, whose productions are inanimate, Nature is herself a work
perpetually alive, an active, an unceasing operator, who knows how to
make use of every material, and whose power, though always employed on
the same invariable plan, instead of suffering diminution, is perfectly
inexhaustible: time, space, and matter, are her means; the universe her
object; and motion and life her end.
Every object in the universe is the effect of this power. Those springs
which she makes use of are active forces which time and space can
only limit but can never destroy; forces which unite, balance, and
oppose, but are incapable of annihilating each other. Some penetrate
and connect bodies, others heat and animate them. It is principally
by attraction and impulsion, that this power acts upon brute matter,
while heats and organic molecules are her chief active agents, which
she employs in the formation and expansion of organized beings. Aided
by such instruments, how can the operations of Nature be limited? She
only wants the additional power to create and annihilate to become
omnipotent. But these two extremes the Almighty has reserved to
himself alone; the power of creating and annihilating are his peculiar
attributes; while that of changing, destroying, unfolding, renewing,
and producing, are the only privileges he has conferred on this or any
other agent. Nature, the minister of his _irrevocable_ commands, the
depositary of his _immutable_ decrees, never deviates from the laws
he has prescribed to her; she never changes any part of his original
plan, but in all her operations she exhibits the will and design of
the eternal Lord of the universe. This grand design, this unalterable
impression of all existence, is the model upon which she invariably
acts; a model of which all the features are so strongly impressed, that
they can never be effaced; a model which the infinite number of copies,
instead of impairing, only serve to renew.
We may therefore affirm that every thing has been created, but nothing
annihilated; Nature acts between the two without ever reaching either
the one or the other. It is in some points of this vast space, which
she has filled and traversed from the beginning of ages, that we must
endeavour to lay hold of her to bring her into view.
What an infinity of objects, comprehending an infinity of matter,
which would have been created in vain, had it not been divided into
portions, separated from each other by almost inconceivable spaces!
Myriads of luminous globes, placed at immense distances, are the bases
which support the fabric of the universe, and millions of opaque
globes, which circulate round them, constitute the moving order of its
architecture. By two primitive forces, each of which are in continual
action, these masses are revolved and carried through the immensity of
space; and their combined efforts produce the zones of the celestial
spheres, and in the midst of vacuity establish fixed stations, and
regular routes and orbits. From motion proceeds the equilibrium of
worlds, and the repose of the universe. The first of these forces is
equally divided, but the second is separated in unequal proportions.
Every atom of matter contains the same degree of attractive force,
while every individual globe has a different quantity of impulsive
force assigned to each. Of the stars, some are fixed and others
wandering; some globes appear formed to attract, and others to impel or
be impelled. Some spheres have received a common impulsion in the same
direction, and others a particular impulsion. Some stars are alone,
and others are attended by satellites; some are luminous, and others
opaque masses. There are planets whose different parts successively
enjoy a borrowed light, and there are comets which, after being lost
in the immensity of space for several ages, return to receive the
influence of the solar heat. There are some suns which appear and
disappear as if they were alternately kindled and extinguished; and
there are others which merely shew themselves and then are seen no
more. Heaven abounds with great events, which the human eye is scarcely
able to perceive. A sun which expires and annihilates a world, or
system of worlds, has no other effect upon the eyes of man than an
_ignis-fatuus_, which gives a transitory blaze and then vanishes for
ever. Man, confined to the terrestrial atom on which he vegetates,
considers this atom as a world, and looks upon other worlds as atoms.
This earth which we inhabit is scarcely distinguishable among the
other globes, and perfectly invisible to the distant spheres; it is at
least a million times smaller than the sun by which it is illuminated,
and even a thousand times less than some of the planets which, by its
influence, the sun compels to circulate round him. Saturn, Jupiter,
Mars, the Earth, Venus, Mercury, and the Sun, occupy that small
portion of the heavens which we term our Universe. These planets, with
their satellites, moving with amazing celerity in the same direction,
and almost in the same plane, compose a wheel of an immense diameter,
whose axis supports the whole weight, and which by the rapidity of its
own rotation must inflame and diffuse heat and light throughout the
whole circumference. As long as this regular motion continues (and
which will be eternal, unless the Divine Mover exert the same force
to destroy as He thought necessary to create them) the sun will burn
and illuminate all the spheres of this universe with his splendor;
and as, in a system where the whole of the bodies mutually attract
each other, nothing can be lost or removed without being returned, the
quantity of matter must always remain the same; this great source of
light and life can never be extinguished or exhausted, for other suns,
which also continually dart forth their fires, constantly restore to
our sun as much light as they take from him. Comets are more numerous
than planets, and like them depend on the power of the sun; they also
press on the common focus, and by augmenting the weight increase the
inflammation. They may also be said to form a part of our universe,
for, like the planets, they are subject to the attraction of the sun.
But in their projectile and impelled motions they have nothing in
common either with each other or with the planets. Every one of them
circulates in a different plane, and they each describe orbits in
different periods of time; for some perform their revolutions in a few
years, while others require several centuries. The sun, simply moving
round his own centre, remains, as it were at rest in the midst, and,
at the same time, serves as a torch, a focus, and an axis, to all and
every part of this wonderful machine.
That the sun continues immoveable, and regulates the motions of the
other globes, is to be ascribed to his magnitude alone. The force of
attraction being in proportion to the mass of matter; as the sun is
so considerably larger than any of the comets, and contains above a
thousand times more matter than the most extensive planet, they can
neither derange him nor diminish his influence, which extending to
immense distances keeps the whole within the bounds of his power,
and thus at particular periods recals those which have stretched
furthest into the regions of space. Some of these on being brought
back, approach so near the sun, that after having cooled for ages
they receive an inconceivable degree of heat. From experiencing these
alternate extremes of heat and cold, they are subject to singular
vicissitudes, as well as from the inequalities of their motions, which
at some times are most inconceivably rapid, and at others so amazingly
slow as to be scarcely perceptible. In comparison with the planets the
comets may be considered as worlds in disorder, for to them the orbits
of the planets are regular, their movements equal, their temperature
always the same; they appear to be places of rest, where, every thing
being permanent, Nature, has the power of establishing a uniform plan
of operation, and successively to mature her various productions. Among
the planets the Earth, which we inhabit, seems to possess peculiar
advantages; from being less distant from the Sun than Saturn, Jupiter,
and Mars, it does not experience that excess of cold; nor is it so
scorched as Venus and Mercury, which appear to revolve in an orbit too
near the body of that luminary. Besides, what a peculiar magnificence
from Nature does the earth enjoy? A pure light, gradually extending
from east to west, alternately gilds both hemispheres of this globe;
which is also surrounded with a pure transparent element. By a mild
and fertile heat all the germs of existence are animated and unfolded,
and they are nourished and supported by a plentiful supply of excellent
waters. Considerable eminences dispersed over the surface of the land,
not only check, but collect the moist vapours which float in the air,
and give rise to perpetual fountains. Immense cavities evidently formed
for the reception of those waters, separate islands and continents.
The sea in extent is equal to that of the land: nor is this a cold and
barren element, but a new empire, no less rich and no less furnished
with inhabitants. By the finger of the Almighty the limits of the
waters are marked out. If the sea encroach on the western shores, it
retreats from those of the east. This great mass of water, though
inactive of itself, is agitated, and put in motion by the influence
of the celestial bodies, whence arise its regular and constant flux
and reflux; it rises and falls with the course of the moon, and is
always at the highest when the action of the sun and moon concurs; it
is from these causes uniting at the time of the equinoxes, that the
tides are then higher than at any other time; and this is certainly
the strongest mark of the connection of this globe with the heavens.
These general and constant motions are the cause of many variable and
particular circumstances; it is by those that the removals of earth are
occasioned, which falling in the form of sediment, produce mountains at
the bottom of the sea, similar to those which are on the surface of the
land; they also give rise to currents, which following the direction
of these chains of mountains, bestow on them a figure, whose angles
correspond, and maintain a course in the midst of the waves as waters
run upon land; they may in fact, be considered as sea-rivers.
The Air being lighter and more fluid than water, is subject to the
influence of a greater number of powers. It is constantly agitated
by the effects of the sun and moon, by the immediate action of the
sea, and by the rarefaction and condensation of heat and cold. The
winds are, as it may be said, its currents; they force and collect the
clouds, they give rise to meteors, and transport the moist vapours
of the ocean to the surfaces of islands and continents; from them
proceed storms, and they diffuse and distribute the fertile dews and
rains over the land; they interfere with the regular motions of the
sea, agitate the waters, sometimes stop, and at others precipitate the
currents, elevate the waves, and excite dreadful storms and tempests.
Forced by them the troubled ocean rises towards the heavens, and with
a tremendous noise and violence, rushes against those immoveable
barriers, which it can neither destroy nor surmount.
The earth being elevated above the level of the sea, it is thus
defended against its irruptions. Its surface is beautifully enamelled
with various flowers, and a constant renewing verdure; it is inhabited
by numberless species of inhabitants, among which, man, placed to
assist the intentions of Nature, presides over every other being, finds
a place of perfect repose, and a delightful habitation. He alone is
endowed with knowledge, and dignified with the faculty of admiration;
the Almighty has rendered him capable of distinguishing the wonders of
the universe, and a witness of his increasing miracles. Animated by a
ray of divinity, he participates the mysteries of the Deity. It is by
this ray that he is enabled to think and reflect, and that he perceives
and understands the wonderful works of his Creator.
The external throne of the Divine magnificence is Nature; and man, by
contemplating her, advances by degrees to the internal throne of the
Almighty. He is formed to adore his Creator, and to have dominion over
every other creature; he is the vassal of heaven, and the lord of the
earth; by him this nether globe is peopled, ennobled, and enriched; he
establishes order, subordination, and harmony among living beings, and
even to Nature herself he gives polish, extension, cultivation, and
embellishment; for he cuts down the thistle and the bramble, and, by
his care, multiplies the vine and the rose. In those dreary desarts
where man has not inhabited, we find them over-run with thorns and
briars; the trees deformed, broken and corrupted, and the seeds which
ought to renew and embellish the scene, are choaked by surrounding
rubbish, and reduced to sterility. Nature, whom we find in other
situations adorned with the splendour of youth, has here the appearance
of old age and decrepitude. Here the earth, overloaded with the spoils
of its productions, instead of presenting a scene of beautiful verdure,
exhibits only a rude mass of coarse herbage, and trees loaded with
parasitical plants, as lichens, agaries, and other impure and corrupted
fruits; the low grounds are covered with putrid and stagnant waters;
these miry lands being neither solid nor fluid, are not only impassable
but are entirely useless to the inhabitants of both land and water;
and the marshes abounding with stinking aquatic plants, serve only to
nourish venomous insects, and to harbour infectious animals. There
is, indeed, between the putrid marshes of the low ground, and the
decayed forests of the high parts of the country, a species of lands,
or savannas, but which are very different from our meadows; for in
them there is an abundance of noxious herbs which spring up and check
the growth of the useful kinds: instead of that delicate enamelled
turf, which may be considered as the down of the earth, they are
covered over with coarse vegetables and hard prickly plants, which
are so interwoven, that they appear to have more connection with each
other, than with the soil; and by a constant and successive generation
at length form a kind of rough mat several feet thick. In these
uncultivated and desolate regions, there is no road, no communication,
and no vestige of intelligence. Man, when seeking to destroy the wild
beasts, is compelled to follow their tracks, and to be constantly on
the watch, lest he should become a victim to their savage fury; alarmed
and terrified by their frequent roarings, and even awed by the profound
silence of those dreary solitudes, he shrinks back and exclaims;
"Uncultivated Nature is hideous and unflourishing; it is I alone who
can render her agreeable and vivacious. Let us drain the marshes,
and give animation to the waters, by converting them into brooks and
canals; let us make use of that active and devouring element, whose
power we have discovered; let us apply fire to this burthensome load
of vegetables, and to those decaying forests which are already half
destroyed; let us complete the work by destroying with iron what cannot
be removed by fire; and then instead of coarse reeds and water-lilies,
from which the toad is said to extract his poison, we shall soon behold
the ranunculus, truffles, and other mild and salutary herbs spring up;
that land, which was formerly impassable, will become a flourishing
pasture for flocks of cattle, where they will find plenty of food, and
where, by the excellence of their sustenance, they will increase and
multiply, and thus reward us for our labours and the protection we have
given them. Let us go still further, and subject the ox to the yoke;
let his strength and weight of body be employed to plough the ground,
which acquires fresh vigour from culture. Thus will the operations of
Nature be assisted, and acquire double strength and splendor from the
skill and industry of man."
How beautiful is cultivated Nature! How lovely does she appear when
decorated by the hand of man! He is himself her chief ornament, her
noblest production, and by multiplying his own species he increases the
most precious of her works. She even seems to multiply in proportion
to his attention, for by his art he developes all that she has
concealed in her bosom. What a source of unknown treasures has been
brought to light! flowers, fruits and grains, matured to perfection,
and multiplied to infinity; the usual species of animals transported,
propagated and increased, without number; the noxious and destructive
kinds diminished and driven from the habitations of men; gold, and
iron a more useful metal, extracted from the bowels of the earth;
torrents restrained, rivers directed in their courses and confined
within their banks, and even the ocean itself subdued, investigated
and traversed from one hemisphere to the other; the earth rendered
active, fertile, and accesible, in every part; the vallies and plains
changed into blooming meadows, rich pastures, and cultivated fields;
the hills surrounded with vines and fruits, and their summits crowned
with useful trees; the desarts converted into populous cities, whose
inhabitants spread from its centre to its utmost extremities; roads and
communications opened, established, and frequented, as so many proofs
of the union and strength of society. There are besides a thousand
other monuments of power and _glory_, which clearly demonstrate that
man is the lord of the earth; that he has changed and improved its
surface; and that from the earliest periods of time he alone has
divided the empire of the world between him and Nature.
It is by the right of conquest, however, that he reigns; he rather
enjoys than possesses, and it is by perpetual activity and vigilance
that he preserves his advantage; if those are neglected every thing
languishes, changes, and returns to the absolute dominion of Nature,
she resumes her power, and destroys the operations of man; envelopes
with moss and dust his most pompous monuments, and in the progress of
time entirely effaces them, leaving him to regret having lost by his
negligence what his ancestors had acquired by their industry. Those
periods in which man loses his empire, those ages in which every thing
valuable perishes, commence with war, and are completed by famine
and depopulation. Although the strength of man depends solely upon
the union of numbers, and his happiness is derived from peace, he is,
nevertheless, so regardless of his own comforts as to take up arms
and to fight, which are never-failing sources of ruin and misery.
Incited by insatiable avarice, or blind ambition, which is still more
insatiable, he becomes callous to the feelings of humanity; regardless
of his own welfare, his whole thoughts turn upon the destruction of his
own species, which he soon accomplishes. The days of blood and carnage
over, and the intoxicating fumes of glory dispelled, he beholds,
with a melancholy eye, the earth desolated, the arts buried, nations
dispersed, an enfeebled people, the ruins of his own happiness, and the
loss of his real power.
Omnipotent God! by whose presence Nature is supported, and harmony
among the laws of the universe maintained; who seest from thy
immoveable throne in the empyrean all the celestial spheres rolling
under thy feet without deviation or disorder; who, from the bosom of
repose, every instant renewest their vast movements, and who alone
governs in profound peace an infinite number of heavens and of earths,
restore, restore tranquillity to a troubled world! Let the earth be
silent! Let the presumptuous tumults of war and discord be dispelled
by the sound of thy voice! Merciful God! author of all beings, whose
paternal regards extend to every created object, and to man, thy
principal favourite; thou hast illumined his mind with a ray of thy
immortal light; penetrate also his heart with a shaft of thy love;
thy divine sentiment, when universally diffused, will unite the most
hostile spirits; man will no longer dread the sight of man, nor will
his hand any longer continue to be armed with murdering steel; the
devouring flames of war will no longer stop the sources of generations;
the human species, which are now weakened, mutilated, and prematurely
mowed down, will germinate anew, and multiply without number. Nature,
groaning under the pressure of calamity, sterile and abandoned, will
soon resume with additional vigour her former fecundity; and we,
beneficent God! shall aid, cultivate, and incessantly contemplate her
operations, that we, at every moment, may be enabled to offer thee a
fresh tribute of gratitude and admiration.