The Existence of God | Page 8

just as the blood does in a man's body. But besides this perpetual
circulation of the water, there is besides the flux and reflux of the sea.
Let us not inquire into the causes of so mysterious an effect. What is
certain is that the tide carries, or brings us back to certain places, at
precise hours. Who is it that makes it withdraw, and then come back
with so much regularity? A little more or less motion in that fluid mass
would disorder all nature; for a little more motion in a tide or flood
would drown whole kingdoms. Who is it that knew how to take such
exact measures in immense bodies? Who is it that knew so well how to
keep a just medium between too much and too little? What hand has set
to the sea the unmovable boundary it must respect through the series of
all ages by telling it: There, thy proud waves shall come and break? But
these waters so fluid become, on a sudden, during the winter, as hard as
rocks. The summits of high mountains have, even at all times, ice and
snow, which are the springs of rivers, and soaking pasture-grounds
render them more fertile. Here waters are sweet to quench the thirst of
man; there they are briny, and yield a salt that seasons our meat, and
makes it incorruptible. In fine, if I lift up my eyes, I perceive in the
clouds that fly above us a sort of hanging seas that serve to temper the
air, break the fiery rays of the sun, and water the earth when it is too

dry. What hand was able to hang over our heads those great
reservatories of waters? What hand takes care never to let them fall but
in moderate showers?
SECT. XIV. Of the Air.
After having considered the waters, let us now contemplate another
mass yet of far greater extent. Do you see what is called air? It is a
body so pure, so subtle, and so transparent, that the rays of the stars,
seated at a distance almost infinite from us, pierce quite through it,
without difficulty, and in an instant, to light our eyes. Had this fluid
body been a little less subtle, it would either have intercepted the day
from us, or at most would have left us but a duskish and confused light,
just as when the air is filled with thick fogs. We live plunged in abysses
of air, as fishes do in abysses of water. As the water, if it were
subtilised, would become a kind of air, which would occasion the death
of fishes, so the air would deprive us of breath if it should become
more humid and thicker. In such a case we should drown in the waves
of that thickened air, just as a terrestrial animal drowns in the sea. Who
is it that has so nicely purified that air we breathe? If it were thicker it
would stifle us; and if it were too subtle it would want that softness
which continually feeds the vitals of man. We should be sensible
everywhere of what we experience on the top of the highest mountains,
where the air is so thin that it yields no sufficient moisture and
nourishment for the lungs. But what invisible power raises and lays so
suddenly the storms of that great fluid body, of which those of the sea
are only consequences? From what treasury come forth the winds that
purify the air, cool scorching heats, temper the sharpness of winter, and
in an instant change the whole face of heaven? On the wings of those
winds the clouds fly from one end of the horizon to the other. It is
known that certain winds blow in certain seas, at some stated seasons.
They continue a fixed time, and others succeed them, as it were on
purpose, to render navigation both commodious and regular: so that if
men are but as patient, and as punctual as the winds, they may, with
ease, perform the longest voyages.
SECT. XV. Of Fire.

Do you see that fire that seems kindled in the stars, and spreads its light
on all sides? Do you see that flame which certain mountains vomit up,
and which the earth feeds with sulphur within its entrails? That same
fire peaceably lurks in the veins of flints, and expects to break out, till
the collision of another body excites it to shock cities and mountains.
Man has found the way to kindle it, and apply it to all his uses, both to
bend the hardest metals, and to feed with wood, even in the most frozen
climes, a flame that serves him instead of the sun, when the sun
removes from him. That subtle