DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE PHILOSOPHER AND NATURE
Who are you, Nature? I live in you; for fifty
years have I been seeking you, and I have not found you yet.
The ancient Egyptians, who lived, it is said, some twelve
hundred years, made me the same reproach. They called me Isis;
they put a great veil on my head, and they said that nobody could
That is what makes me address myself to you. I have been able to measure
some of your globes, know their paths, assign the laws of motion; but I
have not been able to learn who you are.
Are you always active? are you
always passive? did your elements arrange themselves, as water deposits
itself on sand, oil on water, air on oil? have you a mind which directs
all your operations, as councils are inspired as soon as they are
assembled, although their members are sometimes ignoramuses? I
pray you tell me the answer to your riddle.
I am the great everything. I know no more about it. I am not a
mathematician; and everything is arranged in my world according to
mathematical laws. Guess if you can how it is all done.
Certainly, since your great everything does not know
mathematics, and since all your laws are most profoundly
geometrical, there must be an eternal geometer who directs you, a
supreme intelligence who presides over your operations.
You are right; I am water, earth, fire, atmosphere,
metal, mineral, stone, vegetable, animal. I feel indeed that there
is in me an intelligence; you have an intelligence, you do not see
it. I do not see mine either; I feel this invisible power; -I
cannot know it: why should you, who are but a small part of me,
want to know what I do not know?
We are curious. I want to know how being so crude in your mountains, in
your deserts, in your seas, you appear nevertheless so industrious
in your animals, in your vegetables?
My poor child, do you want me to tell you the truth? It is that I have
been given a name which-does not suit me; my name is "Nature", and
I am all art.
That word upsets all my ideas. What! Nature is only art?
Yes, without any doubt. Do you not know that there is an infinite art in
those seas and those mountains that you find so crude? Do you not know
that all those waters gravitate towards the centre of the earth, and
mount only by immutable laws; that those mountains which crown the earth
are the immense reservoirs of the eternal snows which produce
unceasingly those fountains, lakes and rivers without which my
animal species and my vegetable species would perish? And as for
what are called my animal kingdom, my vegetable kingdom and my
mineral kingdom, you see here only three; learn that I have
millions of kingdoms. But if you consider only the formation of an
insect, of an ear of corn, of gold, of copper, everything will
appear as marvels of art.
It is true. The more I think about it, the more I see that you are only
the art of I know not what most potent and industrious great being, who
hides himself and who makes you appear. All reasoners since Thales, and
probably long before him, have played at blind man's buff with you;
they have said: " I have you! " and they had nothing. We all
resemble Ixion; he thought he was kissing Juno, and all that he
possessed was a cloud.
Since I am all that is, how can a being such as you, so small a part of
myself, seize me? Be content, atoms my children, with seeing a few atoms
that Surround you, with drinking a few drops of my milk, with vegetating
for a few moments on my breast, and with dying without having known your
mother and your nurse.
My dear mother, tell me something of why you exist, of why there is
I will answer you as I have answered for so many centuries all
those who have interrogated me about first principles: I KNOW
NOTHING ABOUT THEM.
THE PHILOSOPHER :
Would not non-existence be better than this multitude of existences made
in order to be continually dissolved, this crowd of animals born and
reproduced in order to devour others and to be devoured, this crowd of
sentient beings formed for so many painful sensations, that other crowd of
intelligences which so rarely hear reason? What is the good of
all that, Nature?
Oh! go and ask Him who made me.
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