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, 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.