THE EARTH AND MAN COMPARED.
The Earth—speaking roundly—is 8000 miles in diameter; the atmosphere is calculated to be fifty miles in altitude; the loftiest mountain peak is estimated at five miles above the level of the sea, for this height has never been visited by man; the deepest mine that he has formed is 1650 feet; and his own stature does not average six feet. Therefore, if it were possible for him to construct a globe 800 feet—or twice the height of St. Paul’s Cathedral—in diameter, and to place upon any one point of its surface an atom of 1/4380th of an inch in diameter, and 1/720th of an inch in height, it would correctly denote the proportion that man bears to the earth upon which he moves.
When by measurements, in which the evidence of the method advances equally with the precision of the results, the volume of the earth is reduced to the millionth part of the volume of the sun; when the sun himself, transported to the region of the stars, takes up a very modest place among the thousands of millions of those bodies that the telescope has revealed to us; when the 38,000,000 of leagues which separate the earth from the sun have become, by reason of their comparative smallness, a base totally insufficient for ascertaining the dimensions of the visible universe; when even the swiftness of the luminous rays (77,000 leagues per second) barely suffices for the common valuations of science; when, in short, by a chain of irresistible proofs, certain stars have retired to distances that light could not traverse in less than a million of years;—we feel as if annihilated by such immensities. In assigning to man and to the planet that he inhabits so small a position in the material world, astronomy seems really to have made progress only to humble us.—Arago.