De la providence Chapitre 6

" Quare tamen bonis viris patitur aliquid mali deus fieri ? " Ille vero non patitur. Omnia mala ab illis removit, scelera et flagitia et cogitationes improbas et avida consilia et libidinem caecam et alieno imminentem avaritiam ; ipsos tuetur ac vindicat : numquid hoc quoque aliquis a deo exigit, ut bonorum virorum etiam sarcinas servet ? Remittunt ipsi hanc deo curam: externa contemnunt. Democritus divitias proiecit onus illas bonae mentis existimans. Quid ergo miraris, si id deus bono viro accidere patitur quod vir bonus aliquando vult sibi accidere ? Filios amittunt viri boni; quidni, cum aliquando et occidant ? In exilium mittuntur; quidni, cum aliquando ipsi patriam non repetituri relinquant ? Occiduntur ; quidni, cum aliquando ipsi sibi manus afferant ? Quare quaedam dura patiuntur ? Ut alios pati doceant ; nati sunt in exemplar. Puta itaque deum dicere : " Quid habetis quod de me queri possitis, vos, quibus recta placuerunt ? Aliis bona falsa circumdedi et animos inanes velut longo fallacique somnio lusi. Auro illos et argento et ebore adornavi, intus boni nihil est. Isti quos pro felicibus aspicis, si non qua occurrunt sed qua latent videris, miseri sunt, sordidi, turpes, ad similitudinem parietum suorum extrinsecus culti; non est ista solida et sincera felicitas ; crusta est et quidem tenuis. Itaque dum illis licet stare et ad arbitrium suum ostendi, nitent et imponunt ; cum aliquid incidit quod disturbet ac detegat, tunc apparet quantum altae ac verae foeditatis alienus splendor absconderit. Vobis dedi bona certa, mansura, quanto magis versaverit aliquis et undique inspexerit, meliora maioraque : permisi vobis metuenda contemnere, cupiditates fastidire ; non fulgetis extrinsecus, bona vestra introrsus obversa sunt. Sic mundus exteriora contempsit spectaculo sui laetus. Intus omne posui bonum ; non egere felicitate felicitas vestra est. ' At multa incidunt tristia, horrenda, dura toleratu.' Quia non poteram vos istis subducere, animos vestros adversus omnia armavi ; ferte fortiter. Hoc est quo deum antecedatis ; ille extra patientiam malorum est, vos supra patientiam. Contemnite paupertatem; nemo tam pauper vivit quam natus est. Contemnite dolorem; aut solvetur aut solvet. Contemnite mortem; quae vos aut finit aut transfert. Contemnite for- tunam ; nullum illi telum quo feriret animum dedi. Ante omnia cavi, ne quid vos teneret invitos ; patet exitus. Si pugnare non vultis, licet fugere. Ideo ex omnibus rebus quas esse vobis necessarias volui nihil feci facilius quam mori. Prono animam loco posui ; trahitur, adtendite modo et videbitis quam brevis ad libertatem et quam expedita ducat via. Non tam longas in exitu vobis quam intrantibus moras posui ; alioqui magnum in vos regnum fortuna tenuisset, si homo tam tarde moreretur quam nascitur. Omne tempus, omnis vos locus doceat quam facile sit renuntiare naturae et munus illi suum impingere ; inter ipsa altaria et sollemnes sacrificantium ritus, dum optatur vita, mortem condiscite. Corpora opima taurorum exiguo concidunt vulnere et magnarum virium animalia humanae manus ictus impellit ; tenui ferro commissura cervicis abrumpitur, et cum articulus ille qui caput collumque committit incisus est, tanta illa moles corruit. Non in alto latet spiritus nec utique ferro eruendus est ; non sunt vulnere penitus impresso scrutanda praecordia : in proximo mors est. Non certum ad hos ictus destinavi locum ; quacumque vis pervium est. Ipsum illud quod vocatur mori, quo anima discedit a corpore, brevius est quam ut sentiri tanta velocitas possit. Sive fauces nodus elisit, sive spiramentum aqua praeclusit, sive in caput lapsos subiacentis soli duritia comminuit, sive haustus ignis cursum animae remeantis interscidit ; quicquid est, properat. Ecquid erubescitis ? Quod tam cito fit, timetis diu ! "

“Yet, why does God permit evil to happen to good men?” He does not permit it: he takes away from them all evils, such as crimes and scandalous wickedness, daring thoughts, grasping schemes, blind lusts, and avarice coveting its neighbour’s goods. He protects and saves them. Does any one besides this demand that God should look after the baggage of good men also? Why, they themselves leave the care of this to God: they scorn external accessories. Democritus forswore riches, holding them to be a burden to a virtuous mind: what wonder then, if God permits that to happen to a good man, which a good man sometimes chooses should happen to himself? Good men, you say, lose their children: why should they not, since sometimes they even put them to death? They are banished: why should they not be, since sometimes they leave their country of their own free will, never to return? They are slain: why not, since sometimes they choose to lay violent hands on themselves? Why do they suffer certain miseries? it is that they may teach others how to do so. They are born as patterns. Conceive, therefore, that God says: - “You, who have chosen righteousness, what complaint can you make of me? I have encompassed other men with unreal good things, and have deceived their inane minds as it were by a long and misleading dream: I have bedecked them with gold, silver, and ivory, but within them there is no good thing. Those men whom you regard as fortunate, if you could see, not their outward show, but their hidden life, are really unhappy, mean, and base, ornamented on the outside like the walls of their houses: that good fortune of theirs is not sound and genuine: it is only a veneer, and that a thin one. As long, therefore, as they can stand upright and display themselves as they choose, they shine and impose upon one; when something occurs to shake and unmask them, we see how deep and real a rottenness was hidden by that factitious magnificence. To you I have given sure and lasting good things, which become greater and better the more one turns them over and views them on every side: I have granted to you to scorn danger, to disdain passion. You do not shine outwardly, all your good qualities are turned inwards; even so does the world neglect what lies without it, and rejoices in the contemplation of itself. I have placed every good thing within your own breasts: it is your good fortune not to need any good fortune. ‘Yet many things befall you which are sad, dreadful, hard to be borne.’ Well, as I have not been able to remove these from your path, I have given your minds strength to combat all: bear them bravely. In this you can surpass God himself; He is beyond suffering evil: you are above it. Despise poverty; no man lives as poor as he was born: despise pain; either it will cease or you will cease: despise death; it either ends you or takes you elsewhere: despise fortune; I have given her no weapon that can reach the mind. Above all, I have taken care that no one should hold you captive against your will: the way of escape lies open before you: if you do not choose to fight, you may fly. For this reason, of all those matters which I have deemed essential for you, I have made nothing easier for you than to die. I have set man’s life as it were on a mountain side: it soon slips down. Do but watch, and you will see how short and how ready a path leads to freedom. I have not imposed such long delays upon those who quit the world as upon those who enter it: were it not so, fortune would hold a wide dominion over you, if a man died as slowly as he is born. Let all time, let every place teach you, how simple it is to renounce nature, and to fling back her gifts to her: before the altar itself and during the solemn rites of sacrifice, while life is being prayed for, learn how to die. Fat oxen fall dead with a tiny wound; a blow from a man’s hand fells animals of great strength: the sutures of the neck are severed by a thin blade, and when the joint which connects the head and neck is cut, all that great mass falls. The breath of life is not deep seated, nor only to be let forth by steel - the vitals need not be searched throughout by plunging a sword among them to the hilt: death lies near the surface, I have not appointed any particular spot for these blows - the body may be pierced wherever you please. That very act which is called dying, by which the breath of life leaves the body, is too short for you to be able to estimate its quickness: whether a knot crushes the windpipe, or water stops your breathing: whether you fall headlong from a height and perish upon the hard ground below, or a mouthful of fire checks the drawing of your breath - whatever it is, it acts swiftly. Do you not blush to spend so long a time in dreading what takes so short a time to do?” _honestior_ opposed to the gladiator - the loftier the station of the combatant. The Gracchus of Juvenal, Sat. ii. and viii., illustrates, the passage. _par_, a technical term in the language of sport (_worthy_ of such a spectator). _viderint_ - Let them see to it: it is no matter of mine. That is, to triumph over. “Two spears were set upright ... and a third was fastened across them at the top; and through this gateway the vanquished army marched out, as a token that they had been conquered in war, and owed their lives to the enemy’s mercy. It was no peculiar insult devised for this occasion, but a common usage, so far as appears, in similar cases; like the modern ceremony of piling arms when a garrison or army surrender themselves as prisoners of war.” - Arnold’s _History of Rome_, ch. xxxi. He was a “mirmillo,” a kind of gladiator who was armed with a Gaulish helmet. _e lorica_. The lines occur in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, ii. 63. Phoebus is telling Phaethon how to drive the chariot of the Sun. Compare Walter Scott: “All. . . . must have felt that but for the dictates of religion, or the natural recoil of the mind from the idea of dissolution, there have been times when they would have been willing to throw away life as a child does a broken toy. I am sure I know one who has often felt so. O God! what are we? - Lords of nature? - Why, a tile drops from a house-top, which an elephant would not feel more than a sheet of pasteboard, and there lies his lordship. Or something of inconceivably minute origin, the pressure of a bone, or the inflammation of a particle of the brain takes place, and the emblem of the Deity destroys himself or some one else. We hold our health and our reason on terms slighter than any one would desire, were it in their choice, to hold an Irish cabin.” - Lockhart’s _Life of Sir Walter Scott_, vol. vii., p. 11.

« Pourquoi cependant Dieu souffre-t-il qu’il arrive mal aux gens de bien ? » Non, il ne le souffre pas ; il a écarté d’eux tous les maux, en écartant tout ce qui est crime et turpitude, coupables pensées, projets ambitieux, aveugle débauche, et cupidité qui plane sur le bien d’autrui : eux, il les protége et les défend. Voudrait-on encore le constituer gardien de leur bagage ? Eux-mêmes le tiennent quitte de ce soin : ils méprisent les choses extérieures. Démocrite se dépouilla de ses richesses, les regardant comme un fardeau pour le sage ; est-ce merveille si Dieu laisse les gens de bien livrés à un sort que parfois ils recherchent spontanément ? « Ils perdent leurs enfants ! » Eh bien, quoi ? eux-mêmes quelquefois ne les condamnent-ils pas à la mort ? « On les envoie en exil ! » Mais souvent ils quittent volontairement leur patrie pour ne plus la revoir. « On leur ôte la vie ! » Eh ! ne se l’arrachent-ils pas, au besoin, de leurs propres mains ? « Pourquoi souffrent-ils les rigueurs du sort ? » Pour apprendre aux autres à souffrir : ils sont nés pour servir d’exemple. Figure-toi que Dieu leur dit : « Qu’avez-vous à vous plaindre de moi, vous qui vous êtes donnés à la vertu ? J’ai environné les autres de faux biens ; esprits vides, je les ai amusés de l’illusion d’un long songe : je les ai parés d’or, d’argent et d’ivoire ; au dedans d’eux tout est misère. Ces hommes, qui vous paraissent les heureux de la terre, voyez-les, non du côté qu’ils aiment à montrer, mais de celui qu’ils cachent, ce n’est qu’indigence, ordure, turpitude : ils ressemblent à leurs murailles, ils n’ont de beau que la surface . Là n’est point l’intrinsèque et pure félicité ; ce n’est qu’un placage, et bien mince. Tant qu’ils peuvent se tenir debout et se faire voir comme ils veulent être vus, ils brillent, ils imposent ; qu’un accident les déconcerte et les démasque, alors se découvrent les profondes et réelles souillures qu’un éclat d’emprunt déguisait. À vous seuls j’ai donné les biens sûrs et durables ; plus vous les sonderez et retournerez sous toutes les faces, plus vous les trouverez immenses et sans prix. Je vous ai donné de braver ce que tous craignent, de mépriser ce qu’ils convoitent. Votre éclat n’est point en dehors : tous vos trésors sont au dedans de vous. Ainsi le ciel n’a que faire de ce qui n’est pas lui : il est à soi-même un assez beau spectacle. C’est dans vous que j’ai placé tous vos biens : votre bonheur est de n’avoir pas besoin du bonheur. « Mais que d’afflictions, d’affreux revers, d’épreuves « accablantes ! » Comme je ne pouvais vous y soustraire, j’ai armé vos âmes contre tous les assauts. Souffrez avec courage, par là vous l’emporterez sur moi-même : je suis en dehors de la souffrance ; vous êtes, vous, au-dessus d’elle . Bravez la pauvreté : nul ne vit aussi pauvre qu’il est né. Bravez la douleur : elle passera, ou vous passerez. Bravez la Fortune : je ne lui ai pas donné de trait qui aille jusqu’à l’âme. Bravez la mort : elle est pour vous le néant ou une nouvelle vie. Avant tout j’ai voulu qu’on ne pût vous retenir malgré vous : la retraite est ouverte. Renoncez-vous à combattre ? Fuyez, vous êtes libres ; de toutes les nécessités que je vous ai imposées, il n’en est point que j’aie rendue plus facile que la mort. Votre âme est sur une pente rapide, entraînante. Ouvrez les yeux, et voyez combien est court et dégagé le chemin qui mène à la liberté. Je n’ai pas mis d’aussi longs obstacles à la sortie qu’à l’entrée de cette vie. Le sort aurait eu sur vous trop d’empire, si l’homme avait autant de peine à mourir qu’à naître. Pas d’instant, pas de lieu qui ne vous enseigne combien il est aisé de rompre avec la nature et de lui renvoyer son présent. Au pied même des autels et dans les solennels sacrifices où l’on implore de longs jours, apprenez à mourir. Les taureaux de la plus belle taille succombent à une minime blessure : ces animaux, dont la force est si grande, la main de l’homme les abat d’un seul coup ; le fer le plus mince sait rompre les liens des vertèbres ; et l’articulation qui joint la tête au cou une fois tranchée, ces masses énormes tombent. La vie n’est pas profondément cachée en l’homme ; il ne faut pas même le fer pour l’arracher ; nul besoin de ces plaies qui plongent et sondent bien avant les entrailles : le trépas est tout proche. Je n’ai pas marqué le point où il faut frapper : toute place est vulnérable. Ce qu’on appelle mourir, cet instant où l’âme se sépare du corps passe trop vite pour être saisi dans sa rapidité. Que les étreintes d’un lacet vous suffoquent, que l’eau vous intercepte la respiration ; que la dureté du sol où se fait votre chute vous fracasse la tête ; que des charbons ardents avalés ferment passage à l’air que vos poumons exhalent , quel que soit le moyen, l’effet est prompt. Ne rougissez-vous pas de craindre si longtemps ce qui dure si peu ? »