|
The Germination
of the Earth.
1. "And God said
Let the earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed, and the fruit
tree yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in itself." It was
deep wisdom that commanded the earth, when it rested after discharging
the weight of the waters, first to bring forth grass, then wood as we
see it doing still at this time. For the voice that was then heard and
this command were aS a natural and permanent law for it; it gave
fertility and the power to produce fruit for all ages to come; "Let the
earth bring forth." The production of vegetables shows first
germination. When the germs begin to sprout they form grass; this
develops and becomes a plant, which insensibly receives its different
articulations, and reaches its maturity in the seed. Thus all things
which sprout and are green are developed. "Let the earth bring forth
green grass." Let the earth bring forth by itself without having any
need of help from without. Some consider the sun as the source of all
productiveness on the earth. It is, they say, the action of the sun's
heat which attracts the vital force from the centre of the earth to the
surface. The reason why the adornment of the earth was before the sun
is the following; that those who worship the sun, as the source of
life, may renounce their error. If they be well persuaded that the
earth was adorned before the genesis of the sun, they will retract
their unbounded admiration for it, because they see grass and plants
vegetate before it rose. If then the food for the flocks was prepared,
did our race appear less worthy of a like solicitude? He, who provided
pasture for horses and cattle, thought before all of your riches and
pleasures. If he fed your cattle, it was to provide for all the needs
of your life. And what object was there in the bringing forth of grain,
if not for your subsistence? Moreover, many grasses and vegetables
serve for the food of man.
2. "Let the earth bring forth grass yielding seed after his kind." So
that although some kind of grass is of service to animals, even their
gain is our gain too, and seeds are especially designed for our use.
Such is the true meaning of the words that I have i quoted. "Let the
earth bring forth grass, the herb yielding seed after his kind." this
manner we can re-establish the order of the words, of which the
construction seems faulty in the actual version, and the economy of
nature will be rigorously observed. In fact, first comes germination,
then verdure, then the growth of the plant, which alter having attained
its full growth arrives at perfection in seed.
How then, they say, can Scripture describe all the plants of the earth
as seed-bearing, when the reed, couch-grass, mint, crocus, garlic, and
the flowering rush and countless other species, produce no seed? To
this we reply that many vegetables have their seminal virtue in the
lower part and in the roots. The need, for example, after its annual
growth sends forth a protuberance from its roots, which takes the place
of seed for future trees. Numbers of other vegetables are the same and
all over the earth reproduce by the roots. Nothing then is truer than
that each plant produces its seed or contains some seminal virtue; this
is what is meant by "after its kind." So that the shoot of a reed does
not produce an olive tree, but from a reed grows another reed, and from
one sort of seed a plant of the same sort always germinates. Thus, all
which sprang from the earth, in its first bringing forth, is kept the
same to our time, thanks to the constant reproduction of kind.
"Let the earth bring forth." See how, at this short word, at this brief
command, the cold and sterile earth travailed and hastened to bring
forth its fruit, as it east away its sad and dismal covering to clothe
itself in a more brilliant robe, proud of its proper adornment and
displaying the infinite variety of plants.
I want creation to penetrate you with so much admiration that
everywhere, wherever you may be, the least plant may bring to yon the
clear remembrance of the Creator. If you see the grass of the fields,
think of human nature, and remember the comparison of the wise Isaiah.
"All flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of
the field." Truly the rapid flow of life, the short gratification and
pleasure that an instant of happiness gives a man, all wonderfully suit
the comparison of the prophet. To-day he is vigorous in body, fattened
by luxury, and in the prime of life, with complexion fair like the
flowers, strong and powerful and of irresistible energy; tomorrow and
he will be an object of pity, withered by age or exhausted by sickness.
Another shines in all the splendour of a brilliant fortune. and around
him are a multitude of flatterers, an escort of false friends on the
track of his good graces; a crowd of kinsfolk, but of no true kin; a
swarm Of servants who crowd after him to provide for his food and for
all his needs; and in his comings and goings this innumerable suite,
which he drags after him, excites the envy of all whom he meets. To
fortune may be added power in the State, honours bestowed by the
imperial throne, the government of a province, or the command of
armies; a herald who precedes him is crying in a loud voice; lictors
right and left also fill his subjects with awe, blows, confiscations,
banishments, imprisonments, and all the means by which he strikes
intolerable terror into all whom he has to rule. And what then? One
night, a fever, a pleurisy, or an inflammation of the lungs, snatches
away this man from the midst of men, stripped in a moment of all his
stage accessories, and all this, his glory, is proved a mere dream.
Therefore the Prophet has compared human glory to the weakest flower.
3. Up to this point, the order in which plants shoot bears witness to
their first arrangement. Every herb, every plant proceeds from a germ.
If, like the couch-grass and the crocus, it throws out a shoot from its
root and from this lower protuberance, it must always germinate and
start outwards. If it proceeds from a seed, there is still, by
necessity, first a germ, then the sprout, theft green foliage, and
finally the fruit which ripens upon a stalk hitherto dry and thick.
"Let the earth bring forth grass." When the seed falls into the earth,
which contains the right combination of heat and moisture, it swells
and becomes porous, and, grasping the surrounding earth, attracts to
itself all that is suitable for it and that has affinity to it. These
particles of earth, however small they may be, as they fall and
insinuate themselves into all the pores of the seed, broaden its bulk
and make it send forth roots below, and shoot upwards, sending forth
stalks no less numerous than the roots. As the germ is always growing
warm, the moisture, pumped up through the roots, and helped by the
attraction of heat, draws a proper amount of nourishment from the soil,
and distributes it to the stem, to the bark, to the husk, to the steel
itself and to the beards with which it is armed. It is owing to these
successive accretions that each plant attains its natural development,
as well corn as vegetables, herbs or brushwood. A single plant, a blade
of grass is sufficient to occupy all your intelligence in the
contemplation of the skill which produced it. Why is the wheat stalk
better with joints? Are they not like fastenings, which help it to bear
easily the weight of the ear, when it is swollen with fruit and bends
towards the earth? Thus, whilst oats, which have no weight to bear at
the top, are without these supports, nature has provided them for
wheat. It has hidden the grain in a case, so that it may not be exposed
to birds' pillage, and has furnished it with a rampart of barbs, which,
like darts, protect it against the attacks of tiny creatures.
4. What shall I say? What shall I leave unsaid? In the rich treasures
of creation it is difficult to select what is most precious; the loss
of what is omitted is too severe. "Let the earth bring forth grass;"
and instantly, with useful plants, appear noxious plants; with corn,
hemlock; with the other nutritious plants, hellebore, monkshood,
mandrake and the juice of the poppy. What then? Shall we show no
gratitude for so many beneficial gifts, and reproach the Creator for
those which may be harmful to our life? And shall we not reflect that
all has not been created in view of the wants of our bellies? The
nourishing plants, which are destined for our use, are close at hand,
and known by all the world. But in creation nothing exists without a
reason. The blood of the bull is a poison: ought this animal then,
whose strength is so serviceable to man, not to have been created, or,
if created, to have been bloodless? But you have sense enough in
yourself to keep you free froth deadly things. What! Sheep and goats
know how to turn away from what threatens their life, discerning danger
by instinct alone: and you, who have reason and the art of medicine to
supply what you need, and the experience of your forebears to tell you
to avoid all that is dangerous, you tell me that you find it difficult
to keep yourself from poisons! But not a single thing has been created
without reason, not a single thing is useless. One serves as food to
some animal; medicine has found in another a relief for one of our
maladies. Thus the starling eats hemlock, its constitution rendering it
insusceptible to the action of the poison.
Thanks to the tenuity of the pores of its heart, the malignant juice is
on sooner swallowed than it is digested, before its chill can attack
the vital parts. The quail, thanks to its peculiar temperament, whereby
it escapes the dangerous effects, feeds on hellebore. There are even
circumstances where poisons are useful to men; with mandrake doctors
give us sleep; with opium they lull violent pain. Hemlock has ere now
been used to appease the rage of unruly diseases; and many times
hellebore has taken away long standing disease. These plants, then,
instead of making you accuse the Creator, give you a new subject for
gratitude.
5. "Let the earth bring forth grass." What spontaneous provision is
included in these words,--that which is present in the root, in the
plant itself, and in the fruit, as well as that which our labour and
husbandry add! God did not command the earth immediately to give forth
seed and fruit, but to produce germs, to grow green, and to arrive at
maturity in the seed; so that this first command teaches nature what
she has to do in the course of ages. But, they ask, is it true that the
earth produces seed after his kind, when often, after having sown
wheat, we gather black grain? This is not a change of kind, but an
alteration, a disease of the grain. It has not ceased to be wheat; it
is on account of having been burnt that it is black, as one can learn
from its name. If a severe frost had burnt it, it would have had
another colour and a different flavour. They even pretend that, if it
could find suitable earth and moderate temperature, it might return to
its first form. Thus, you find nothing in nature contrary to the divine
command. As to the darnel and all those bastard grains which mix
themselves with the harvest, the tares of Scripture, far from being a
variety of corn, have their own origin and their own kind; image of
those who alter the doctrine of the Lord and, not being rightly
instructed in the word, but, corrupted by the teaching of the evil one,
mix themselves with the sound body of the Church to spread their
pernicious errors secretly among purer souls. The Lord thus compares
the perfection of those who believe in Him to the growth of seed, "as
if a man should cast seed into the ground; and should sleep and rise,
night and day, and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not
how. For the earth bringeth forth fruit of herself; first the blade,
then the ear, after that the full corn in the ear." "Let the earth
bring forth grass." In a moment earth began by germination to obey the
laws of the Creator, completed every stage of growth, and brought germs
to perfection. The meadows were covered with deep grass, the fertile
plains quivered with harvests, and the movement of the corn was like
the waving of the sea. Every plant, every herb, the smallest shrub, the
least vegetable, arose from the earth in all its luxuriance. There was
no failure in this first vegetation: no husbandman's inexperience, no
inclemency of the weather, nothing could injure it; then the sentence
of condemnation was not fettering the earth's fertility. All this was
before the sin which condemned us to eat our bread by the sweat of our
brow.
6. "Let the earth," the Creator adds, "bring forth the fruit tree
yielding fruit after his kind, whose seed is in itself."
At this command every copse was thickly planted; all the trees, fir,
cedar, cypress, pine, rose to their greatest height, the shrubs were
straightway clothed with thick foliage. The plants called crown-plants,
roses, myrtles, laurels, did not exist; in one moment they came into
being, each one with its distinctive peculiarities. Most marked
differences separated them from other plants, and each one was
distinguished by a character of its own. But then the rose was without
thorns; since then the thorn has been added to its beauty, to make us
feel that sorrow is very near to pleasure, and to remind us of our sin,
which condemned the earth to produce thorns and caltrops. But, they
say, the earth has received the command to produce trees "yielding
fruit whose seed was in itself," and we see many trees which have
neither fruit, nor seed. What shall we reply? First, that only the more
important trees are mentioned; and then, that a careful examination
will show us that every tree has seed, or some property which takes the
place of it. The black poplar, the willow, the elm, the white poplar,
all the trees of this family, do not produce any apparent fruit;
however, an attentive observer finds seed in each of them. This grain
which is at the base of the leaf, and which those who busy themselves
with inventing words call mischos, has the property of seed. And there
are trees which reproduce by their branches, throwing out roots from
them. Perhaps we ought even to consider as seeds the saplings which
spring from the roots of a tree: for cultivators tear them out to
multiply the species. But, we have already said, it is chiefly a
question of the trees which contribute most to out life; which offer
their various fruits to man and provide him with plentiful nourishment.
Such is the vine, which produces wine to make glad the heart of man;
such is the olive tree, whose fruit brightens his face with oil. How
many things in nature are combined in the same plant! In a vine, roots,
green and flexible branches, which spread themselves far over the
earth, buds, tendrils, bunches of sour grapes and ripe grapes. The
sight of a vine, when observed by an intelligent eye, serves to remind
you of your nature. Without doubt you remember the parable where the
Lord calls Himself a vine and His Father the husbandman, and every one
of us who are grafted by faith into the Church the branches. He invites
us to produce fruits in abundance, for fear lest our sterility should
condemn us to the fire. He constantly compares our souls to vines. "My
well beloved," says He, "hath a vineyard in a very fruitfull hill," and
elsewhere, I have "planted a vineyard and hedged it round about."
Evidently He calls human souls His vine, those souls whom He has
surrounded with the authority of His precepts and a guard of angels.
"The angel of the Lord encampeth round shout them that fear him." And
further: He has planted for us, so to say, props, in establishing in
His Church apostles, prophets, teachers; and raising our thoughts by
the example of the blessed in olden times, He has not allowed them to
drag on the earth and be crushed under foot. He wishes that the
claspings of love, like the tendrils of the vine, should attach us to
our neighbours and make us rest on them, so that, in our continual
aspirations towards heaven, we may imitate these vines, which raise
themselves to the tops of the tallest trees. He also asks us to allow
ourselves to be dug about; and that is what the soul does when it
disembarrasses itself from the cares of the world, which are a weight
on our hearts. He, then, who is freed from carnal affections and from
the love of riches, and, far from being dazzled by them, disdains and
despises this miserable vain glory, is, so to say, dug about and at
length breathes, free from the useless weight of earthly thoughts. Nor
must we, in the spirit of the parable, put forth too much wood, that is
to say, live with ostentation, and gain the applause of the world; we
must bring forth fruits, keeping the proof of our works for the
husbandman. Be "like a green olive tree in the house of God," never
destitute of hope, but decked through faith with the bloom of
salvation. Thus you will resemble the eternal verdure of this plant and
will rival it in fruitfulness, if each clay sees you giving abundantly
in alms.
7. But let us return to the examination of the ingenious contrivances
of creation. How many trees then arose, some to give us their fruits,
others to roof our houses, others to build our ships, others to feed
our fires! What a variety in the disposition of their several parts!
And yet, how difficult is it to find the distinctive property of each
of them, and to grasp the difference which separates them from other
species. Some strike deep roots, others do not; some shoot straight up
and have only one stem, others appear to love the earth and, from their
root upwards, divide into several shoots. Those whose long branches
stretch up afar into the air, have also deep roots which spread within
a large circumference, a true foundation placed by nature to support
the weight of the tree. What variety there is in bark! Some plants have
smooth bark, others rough, some have only one layer, others several.
What a marvellous thing! You may find in the youth and age of plants
resemblances to those of man. Young and vigorous, their bark is
distended; when they grow old, it is rough and wrinkled. Cut one, it
sends forth new buds; the other remains henceforward sterile and as if
struck with a mortal wound. But further, it has been observed that
pines, cut down, or even submitted to the action of fire, are changed
into a forest of oaks. We know besides that the industry of
agriculturists remedies the natural defects of certain trees. Thus the
sharp pomegranate and bitter almonds, if the trunk of the tree is
pierced near the root to introduce into the middle of the pith a fat
plug of pine, lose the acidity of their juice, and become delicious
fruits. Let not the sinner then despair of himself, when he thinks, if
agriculture can change the juices of plants, the efforts of the soul to
arrive at virtue, can certainly triumph over all infirmities.
Now there is such a variety of fruits in fruit trees that it is beyond
all expression; a variety not only in the fruits of trees of different
families, but even in those of the same species, if it be true, as
gardeners say, that the sex of a tree influences the character of its
fruits. They distinguish male from female in palms; sometimes we see
those which they call female lower their branches, as though with
passionate desire. and invite the embraces of the male. Then, those who
take care of these plants shake over these palms the fertilizing dust
from the male palm-tree, the psen as they call it: the tree appears to
share the pleasures of enjoyment; then it raises its branches, and its
foliage resumes its usual form. The same is said of the fig tree. Some
plant wild fig trees near cultivated fig trees, and there are others
who, to remedy the weakness of the productive fig tree of our gardens,
attach to the branches unripe figs and so retain the fruit which had
already begun to drop and to be lost. What lesson does nature here give
us? That we must often borrow, even from those who are strangers to the
faith, a certain vigour to show forth good works. If you see outside
the Church, in pagan life, or in the midst of a pernicious heresy, the
example of virtue and fidelity to moral laws, redouble your efforts to
resemble the productive fig tree, who by the side of the wild fig tree,
gains strength, prevents the fruit from being shed, and nourishes it
with more care.
8. Plants reproduce themselves in so many different ways, that we can
only touch upon the chief among them. As to fruits themselves, who
could review their varieties, their forms, their colours, the peculiar
flavour, and the use of each of them? Why do some fruits ripen when
exposed bare to the rays of the sun, while others fill out while
encased in shells? Trees of which the fruit is tender have, like the
fig tree, a thick shade of leaves; those, on the contrary, of which the
fruits are stouter, like the nut, are only covered by a light shade.
The delicacy of the first requires more care; if the latter had a
thicker case, the shade of the leaves would be harmful. Why is the vine
leaf serrated, if not that the bunches of grapes may at the same time
resist the injuries of the air and receive through the openings all the
rays of the sun? Nothing has been done without motive, nothing by
chance. All shows ineffable wisdom.
What discourse can touch all? Can the human mind make an exact review,
remark every distinctive property, exhibit all the differences, unveil
with certainty so many mysterious causes? The same water, pumped up
through the root, nourishes in a different way the root itself, the
bark of the trunk, the wood and the pith. It becomes leaf, it
distributes itself among the branches and twigs and makes the fruits
swell -- it gives to the plant its gum and its sap. Who will explain to
us the difference between all these? There is a difference between the
gum of the mastich and the juice of the balsam, a difference between
that which distils in Egypt arid Libya from the fennel. Amber is, they
say, the crystallized sap of plants. And for a proof, see the bits of
straws and little insects which have been caught in the sap while still
liquid and imprisoned there. In one word, no one without long
experience could find terms to express the virtue of it. How, again,
does this water become wine in the vine, and oil in the olive tree? Yet
what is marvellous is, not to see it become sweet in one fruit, fat and
unctuous in another, but to see in sweet fruits an inexpressible
variety of flavour. There is one sweetness of the grape, another of the
apple, another of the fig, another of the date. I shall willingly give
you the gratification of continuing this research. How is it that this
same water has sometimes a sweet taste, softened by its remaining in
certain plants, and at other times stings the palate because it has
become acid by passing through others? How is it, again, that it
attains extreme bitterness, and makes the mouth rough when it is found
in wormwood and in scammony? That it has in acorns and dogwood a sharp
and rough flavour? That in the turpentine tree and the walnut tree it
is changed into a soft and oily matter?
9. But what need is there to continue. when in the same fig tree we
have the most opposite flavours, as bitter in the sap as it is sweet in
the fruit? And in the vine, is it not as sweet in the grapes as it is
astringent in the branches? And what a variety of colour! Look how in a
meadow this same water becomes red in one flower, purple in another,
blue in this one, white in that. And this diversity of colours, is it
to be compared to that of scents? But I perceive that an insatiable
curiosity is drawing out my discourse beyond its limits. If I do not
stop and recall it to the law of creation, day will fail me whilst
making you see great wisdom in small things.
"Let the earth bring forth the fruit tree yielding fruit." Immediately
the tops of the mountains were covered with foliage: paradises were
artfully laid out, and an infinitude of plants embellished the banks of
the rivers. Some were for the adornment of man's table; some to nourish
animals with their fruits and their leaves; some to provide medicinal
help by giving us their sap, their juice, their chips, their bark or
their fruit. In a word, the experience of ages, profiting from every
chance, has not been able to discover anything useful, which the
penetrating foresight of the Creator did not first perceive and call
into existence. Therefore, when you see the trees in our gardens, or
those of the forest, those which love the water or the land, those
which bear flowers, or those which do not flower, I should like to see
you recognising grandeur even in small objects, adding incessantly to
your admiration of, and redoubling your love for the Creator. Ask
yourself why He has made some trees evergreen and others deciduous;
why, among the first, some lose their leaves, and others always keep
them. Thus the olive and the pine shed their leaves, although they
renew them insensibly and never appear to be despoiled of their
verdure. The palm tree, on the contrary, from its birth to its death,
is always adorned with the same foliage. Think again of the double life
of the tamarisk; it is an aquatic plant, and yet it covers the desert.
Thus, Jeremiah compares it to the worst of characters -- the double
character.
10. "Let the earth bring forth." This short command was in a moment a
vast nature, an elaborate system. Swifter than thought it produced the
countless qualities of plants. It is this command which, still at this
day, is imposed on the earth, and in the course of each year displays
all the strength of its power to produce herbs, seeds and trees. Like
tops, which after the first impulse, continue their evolutions, turning
upon themselves when once fixed in their centre; thus nature, receiving
the impulse of this first command, follows without interruption the
course of ages, until the consummation of all things. Let us all hasten
to attain to it, full of fruit and of good works; and thus, planted in
the house of the Lord we shall flourish in the court of our God, in our
Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory and power for ever and ever. Amen.
|
|
