De la constance du sage Chapitre 5

Dividamus, si tibi videtur. Serene, iniuriam a contumelia. Prior illa natura gravior est, haec levior et tantum delicatis gravis, qua non laeduntur homines sed offenduntur. Tanta est tamen animorum dissolutio et vanitas, ut quidam nihil acerbius putent. Sic in- venies servum qui flagellis quam colaphis caedi malit et qui mortem ac verbera tolerabiliora credat quam contumeliosa verba. Ad tantas ineptias perventum est, ut non dolore tantum sed doloris opinione vexemur more puerorum, quibus metum incutit umbra et personarum deformitas et depravata facies, lacrimas vero evocant nomina parum grata auribus et digitorum motus et alia quae impetu quodam erroris improvidi refugiunt. Iniuria propositum hoc habet aliquem malo adficere ; malo autem sapientia non relinquit locum, unum enim illi malum est turpitudo, quae intrare eo ubi iam virtus honestumque est non potest. Ergo, si iniuria sine malo nulla est, malum nisi turpe nullum est, turpe autem ad honestis occupatum pervenire non potest, iniuria ad sapientem non pervenit. Nam si iniuria alicuius mali patientia est, sapiens autem nullius mali est patiens, nulla ad sapientem iniuria pertinet. Omnis iniuria deminutio eius est in quem incurrit, nec potest quisquam iniuriam accipere sine aliquo detrimento vel dignitatis vel corporis vel rerum extra nos positarum. Sapiens autem nihil perdere potest ; omnia in se reposuit, nihil fortunae credit, bona sua in solido habet contentus virtute, quae fortuitis non indiget ideoque nec augeri nec minui potest ; nam et in summum perducta incrementi non habent locum et nihil eripit fortuna nisi quod dedit ; virtutem autem non dat, ideo nec detrahit ; libera est, inviolabilis, immota, inconcussa, sic contra casus indurat, ut ne inclinari quidem, nedum vinci possit; adversus adparatus terribilium rectos oculos tenet, nihil ex vultu mutat, sive illi dura sive secunda ostentantur. Itaque nihil perdet quod perire sensurus sit; unius enim in possessione virtutis est, ex qua depelli numquam potest, ceteris precario utitur quis autem iactura movetur alieni ? Quodsi iniuria nihil laedere potest ex his quae propria sapientis sunt, quia virtute salva sua salva sunt, iniuria sapienti non potest fieri. Megaram Demetrius ceperat, cui cognomen Poliorcetes fuit. Ab hoc Stilbon philosophus interrogatus, num aliquid perdidisset : " Nihil," inquit, " omnia mea mecum sunt." Atqui et patrimonium eius in praedam cesserat et filias rapuerat hostis et patria in alienam dicionem pervenerat et ipsum rex circumfusus victoris exercitus armis ex superiore loco rogitabat. At ille victoriam illi excussit et se urbe capta non invictum tantum sed indemnem esse testatus est. Habebat enim vera secum bona, in quae non est manus iniectio, at quae dissipata et direpta ferebantur, non iudicabat sua sed adventicia et nutum fortunae sequentia. Ideo ut non propria dilexerat ; omnium enim extrinsecus adfluentium lubrica et incerta possessio est.

If you think fit, my Serenus, let us distinguish between injury and insult. The former is naturally the more grievous, the latter less important, and grievous only to the thin-skinned, since it angers men but does not wound them. Yet such is the weakness of men’s minds, that many think that there is nothing more bitter than insult; thus you will find slaves who prefer to be flogged to being slapped, and who think stripes and death more endurable than insulting words. To such a pitch of absurdity have we come that we suffer not only from pain, but from the idea of pain, like children, who are terror-stricken by darkness, misshapen masks, and distorted faces, and whose tears flow at hearing names unpleasing to their ears, at the movement of our fingers, and other things which they ignorantly shrink from with a sort of mistaken spasm. The object which injury proposes to itself is to do evil to some one. Now wisdom leaves no room for evil; to it, the only evil is baseness, which cannot enter into the place already occupied by virtue and honour. If, therefore, there can be no injury without evil, and no evil without baseness, and baseness cannot find any place with a man who is already filled with honour, it follows that no injury can reach the wise man: for if injury be the endurance of some evil, and the wise man can endure no evil, it follows that no injury takes effect upon the wise man. All injury implies a making less of that which it affects, and no one can sustain an injury without some loss either of his dignity, or of some part of his body, or of some of the things external to ourselves; but the wise man can lose nothing. He has invested everything in himself, has entrusted nothing to fortune, has his property in safety, and is content with virtue, which does not need casual accessories, and therefore can neither be increased or diminished; for virtue, as having attained to the highest position, has no room for addition to herself, and fortune can take nothing away save what she gave. Now fortune does not give virtue; therefore she does not take it away. Virtue is free, inviolable, not to be moved, not to be shaken, and so hardened against misfortunes that she cannot be bent, let alone overcome by them. She looks unfalteringly on while tortures are being prepared for her; she makes no change of countenance, whether misery or pleasure be offered to her. The wise man therefore can lose nothing of whose loss he will be sensible, for he is the property of virtue alone, from whom he never can be taken away. He enjoys all other things at the good pleasure of fortune; but who is grieved at the loss of what is not his own? If injury can hurt none of those things which are the peculiar property of the wise man, because while his virtue is safe they are safe, then it is impossible that an injury should be done to a wise man. Demetrius, who was surnamed Poliorcetes, took Megara, and the philosopher Stilbo, when asked by him whether he had lost anything, answered, “No, I carry all my property about me.” Yet his inheritance had been given up to pillage, his daughters had been outraged by the enemy, his country had fallen under a foreign dominion, and it was the king, enthroned on high, surrounded by the spears of his victorious troops, who put this question to him; yet he struck the victory out of the king’s hands, and proved that, though the city was taken, he himself was not only unconquered but unharmed, for he bore with him those true goods which no one can lay hands upon. What was being plundered and carried away hither and thither he did not consider to be his own, but to be merely things which come and go at the caprice of fortune; therefore he had not loved them as his own, for the possession of all things which come from without is slippery and insecure.

L’injure a pour but de faire du mal à quelqu’un : or la sagesse ne laisse point place au mal. Il n’est de mal pour elle que la honte, laquelle n’a point accès où habitent déjà l’honneur et la vertu : l’injure ne va donc point jusqu’au sage. Car si elle est la souffrance d’un mal, dès que le sage n’en souffre aucun, aucune injure ne peut le toucher. Toujours elle ôte quelque chose à celui qu’elle attaque, et on ne la reçoit jamais sans quelque détriment de sa dignité, de sa personne ou de ses biens extérieurs ; or le sage ne peut rien perdre : il a tout placé en lui, il ne confie rien à la fortune, il a ses biens sur une solide base, il se trouve riche de sa vertu qui n’a pas besoin des dons du hasard. Et ainsi son trésor ne peut ni grossir ni diminuer ; car ce qui est arrivé à son comble n’a plus chance d’accroissement. La fortune n’enlève que ce qu’elle a donné : elle ne donne pas la vertu, aussi ne la ravit-elle pas. La vertu est chose libre, inviolable, que rien n’émeut, que rien n’ébranle, tellement endurcie aux coups du sort, qu’on ne saurait la faire fléchir, loin de l’abattre. En face des appareils les plus terribles son œil est fixe, intrépide ; son visage ne change nullement, qu’elle ait de dures épreuves ou des succès en perspective. Donc le sage ne perdra rien dont il puisse ressentir la perte. Il a en effet pour seule possession la vertu, dont on ne l’expulsera jamais ; de tout le reste il n’use qu’à titre précaire : or quel homme est touché de perdre ce qui n’est pas à lui ? Que si l’injure ne peut en rien préjudicier aux biens propres du sage, parce que la vertu les sauvegarde, on ne peut faire injure au sage. Démétrius , surnommé Poliorcète, ayant pris Mégare, demandait au philosophe Stilpon s’il n’avait rien perdu : « Rien, répondit celui-ci ; car tous mes biens sont avec moi. » Et cependant son patrimoine avait fait partie du butin, ses filles étaient captives, sa ville natale au pouvoir de l’étranger, et lui-même en présence d’un roi qui, entouré d’armes et de phalanges victorieuses, l’interpellait du haut de son triomphe. Stilpon lui ravit ainsi sa victoire, et, au sein d’une patrie esclave, témoigna qu’il n’était pas vaincu, qu’il n’éprouvait même pas de dommage ; car il avait avec lui la vraie richesse, sur laquelle on ne met pas la main. Quant aux choses qu’on et qu’on emportait de toutes parts, il ne les jugeait pas siennes, mais accidentelles et sujettes aux caprices de la Fortune : il n’avait pas pour elle l’affection d’un maître. Tout ce qui en effet arrive du dehors est d’une possession fragile et incertaine. Songe maintenant si un voleur, un calomniateur, un voisin puissant, ou quelque riche exerçant cette royauté que donne une vieillesse sans enfants étaient capables de faire injure à cet homme, quand la guerre et ce fier ennemi qui professait l’art sublime de forcer des remparts ne l’avaient pu dépouiller de rien. Au milieu des glaives partout étincelants et du tumulte de la soldatesque ardente au pillage, au milieu des flammes, du sang, des débris d’une cité croulante, du fracas des temples s’abîmant sur leurs dieux, il y eut paix pour un seul homme.