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