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Let man then
contemplate the whole of nature in her full and grand majesty, and turn his
vision from the low objects which surround him. Let him gaze on that brilliant
light, set like an eternal lamp to illumine the universe; let the earth appear
to him a point in comparison with the vast circle described by the sun; and let
him wonder at the fact that this vast circle is itself but a very fine point in
comparison with that described by the stars in their revolution round the
firmament. But if our view be arrested there, let our imagination pass beyond; it
will sooner exhaust the power of conception than nature that of supplying
material for conception. The whole visible world is only an imperceptible atom
in the ample bosom of nature. No idea approaches it. We may enlarge our
conceptions beyond all imaginable space; we only produce atoms in comparison
with the reality of things. It is an infinite sphere, the centre of which is
everywhere, the circumference nowhere. In short
it is the greatest sensible mark of the almighty power of God, that imagination
loses itself in that thought.
Returning to himself, let man consider
what he is in comparison with all existence; let him regard himself as lost in
this remote corner of nature; and from the little cell in which he finds
himself lodged, I mean the universe, let him estimate at their true value the
earth, kingdoms, cities, and himself. What is a man in the Infinite?
But to show him another prodigy equally
astonishing, let him examine the most delicate things he knows. Let a mite be
given him, with its minute body and parts incomparably more minute, limbs with
their joints, veins in the limbs, blood in the veins, humours in the blood,
drops in the humours, vapours in the drops. Dividing these last things again,
let him exhaust his powers of conception, and let the last object at which he
can arrive be now that of our discourse. Perhaps he will think that here is the
smallest point in nature. I will let him see therein a new abyss. I will paint
for him not only the visible universe, but all that he can conceive of nature's
immensity in the womb of this abridged atom. Let him see therein an infinity of
universes, each of which has its firmament, its planets, its earth, in the same
proportion as in the visible world; in each earth animals, and in the last
mites, in which he will find again all that the first had, finding still in
these others the same thing without end and without cessation. Let him lose
himself in wonders as amazing in their littleness as the others in their
vastness. For who will not be astounded at the fact that our body, which a
little while ago was imperceptible in the universe, itself imperceptible in the
bosom of the whole, is now a colossus, a world, or rather a whole, in respect
of the nothingness which we cannot reach? He who regards himself in this light
will be afraid of himself, and observing himself sustained in the body given
him by nature between those two abysses of the Infinite and Nothing, will
tremble at the sight of these marvels; and I think that, as his curiosity
changes into admiration, he will be more disposed to contemplate them in
silence than to examine them with presumption.
For in fact what is man in nature? A
Nothing in comparison with the Infinite, an All in comparison with the Nothing,
a mean between nothing and everything. Since he is infinitely removed from
comprehending the extremes, the end of things and their beginning are
hopelessly hidden from him in an impenetrable secret, he is equally incapable
of seeing the Nothing from which
he was made, and the Infinite in which he is swallowed up.
What will he do then, but perceive the
appearance of the middle of things, in an eternal despair of knowing either
their beginning or their end. All things proceed from the Nothing, and are
borne towards the Infinite. Who will follow these marvellous processes? The
Author of these wonders understands them. None other can do so.
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