Justine 淑女的眼泪 Chapter 9

"Oh Madame," I said to Dubois, asking her leave to reply to her execrable sophistries¹, "do you not at all feel that your damnation is writ² in what you have just uttered? At the very most, such principles could only befit the person powerful enough to have nothing to dread³ from others; but we, Madame, perpetually in fear and humiliated⁴; we, proscribed⁵ by all honest folk, condemned⁶ by every law, should we be the exponents⁷ of doctrines⁸ which can only whet⁹ the sword blade suspended above our heads? Would we find ourselves in this unhappy position were we in the center of society; were we to be where, that is to say, we ought to be, without our misconduct and delivered from our miseries¹⁰, do you fancy such maxims¹¹ could be any more fitting to us? How would you have him not perish who through blind egoism wishes all alone to strive against the combined interests of others? Is not society right never to suffer in its midst the man who declares himself hostile to it? And can the isolated¹² individual fight against everyone? Can he flatter himself he is happy and tranquil¹³ if, refusing to submit to the social contract, he does not consent to give up a little of his happiness to insure the rest? Society is maintained only by the ceaseless interexchange of considerations and good works, those are the bonds which cement the edifices¹⁴; such a one who instead of positive acts offers naught¹⁵ but crimes, having therefore to be dreaded¹⁶, will necessarily be attacked if he is the strongest, laid low by the first he offends if he is the weakest; but destroyed at any rate, for there is in man a powerful instinct which compels him to safeguard his peace and quiet and to strike whosoever seeks to trouble them; that is why the long endurance of criminal associations is virtually impossible: their well-being¹⁷ suddenly confronted by cold steel, all the others must promptly¹⁸ unite to blunt the threatening point. Even amongst ourselves, Madame, I dare add; how can you lull¹⁹ yourself into believing you can maintain concord²⁰ amongst ourselves when you counsel each to heed²¹ nothing but his own self-interest? Would you have any just complaints to make against the one of us who wanted to cut the throats of the others, who did so in order to monopolize²² for himself what has been shared by his colleagues? Why, 'tis a splendid panegyric²³ to Virtue²⁴, to prove its necessity in even a criminal society... to prove for a certainty that this society would disintegrate²⁵ in a trice were it not sustained by Virtue!"

 

"Your objections, Therese," said Coeur-de-fer, "not the theses Dubois has been expounding²⁶, are sophistries; our criminal fraternities are not by any means sustained by Virtue; rather by self-interest, egoism, selfishness; this eulogy²⁷ of Virtue, which you have fabricated out of a false hypothesis, miscarries; it is not at all owing to virtuousness²⁸ that, believing myself, let us suppose, the strongest of the band, I do not use a dagger²⁹ on my comrades in order to appropriate their shares, it is because, thereupon finding myself all alone, I would deprive myself of the means which assure me the fortune I expect to have with their help; similarly, this is the single motive³⁰ which restrains them from lifting their arms against me. Now this motive, as you, Therese, perfectly³¹ well observe, is purely³² selfish, and has not even the least appearance of virtue; he who wishes to struggle alone against society's interests must, you say, expect to perish; will he not much more certainly perish if, to enable him to exist therein, he has nothing but his misery³³ and is abandoned by others ? What one terms the interest of society is simply the mass of individual interests unified³⁴, but it is never otherwise than by ceding³⁵ that this private interest can accommodate and blend with the general interest; well, what would you have him cede³⁶ who has nothing he can relinquish³⁷? And he who had much? Agree that he should see his error grow apace with the discovery that he was giving infinitely³⁸ more than he was getting in return; and, such being the case, agree that the unfairness of the bargain should prevent him from concluding it. Trapped in this dilemma³⁹, the best thing remaining for this man, don't you agree, is to quit this unjust society, to go elsewhere, and to accord prerogatives⁴⁰ to a different society of men who, placed in a situation comparable to his, have their interest in combating, through the coordination⁴¹ of their lesser⁴² powers, the broader authority that wished to extract from the poor man what little he possessed⁴³ in exchange for nothing at all. But you will say, thence will be born a state of perpetual warfare⁴⁴.

 

Excellent! is that not the perpetual state of Nature? Is it not the only state to which we are really adapted ? All men are born isolated, envious⁴⁵, cruel and despotic; wishing to have everything and surrender nothing, incessantly⁴⁶ struggling to maintain either their rights or achieve their ambition, the legislator comes up and says to them: Cease thus to fight; if each were to retreat a little, calm would be restored. I find no fault with the position implicit⁴⁷ in the agreement, but I maintain that two species of individuals cannot and ought not submit to it, ever; those who feel they are the stronger have no need to give up anything in order to be happy, and those who find themselves the weaker also find themselves giving up infinitely more than what is assured them. However, society is only composed of weak persons and strong; well, if the pact⁴⁸ must perforce displease⁴⁹ both weak and strong, there is great cause to suppose it will fail to suit society, and the previously⁵⁰ existing state of warfare must appear infinitely preferable, since it permitted everyone the free exercise of his strength and his industry, whereof he would discover himself deprived by a society's unjust pact which takes too much from the one and never accords enough to the other; hence, the truly intelligent person is he who, indifferent to the risk of renewing the state of war that reigned⁵¹ prior to the contract, lashes⁵² out in irrevocable violation⁵³ of that contract, violates it as much and often as he is able, full certain that what he will gain from these ruptures⁵⁴ will always be more important than what he will lose if he happens to be a member of the weaker class; for such he was when he respected the treaty; by breaking it he may become one of the stronger; and if the laws return him to the class whence he wished to emerge, the worst that can befall him is the loss of his life, which is a misfortune infinitely less great than that of existing in opprobrium⁵⁵ and wretchedness. There are then two positions available to us: either crime, which renders us happy, or the noose⁵⁶, which prevents us from being unhappy. I ask whether there can be any hesitation⁵⁷, lovely Therese, and where will your little mind find an argument able to combat that one ?"

 

"Oh Monsieur," I replied with the vehemence⁵⁸ a good cause inspires, "there are a thousand; but must this life be man's unique concern? Is this existence other than a passage each of whose stages ought only, if he is reasonable, to conduct him to that eternal felicity, the prize vouchsafed⁵⁹ by Virtue? I suppose together with you (but this, however, is rare, it conflicts with all reason's informations, but never mind), I will for an instant grant you that the villain⁶⁰ who abandons himself to crime may be rendered happy by it in this world, but do you imagine God's justice does not await that dishonest man, that he will not have to pay in another world for what he does in this? Ah! think not the contrary, Monsieur, believe it not," I added, tears in my eyes, " 'tis the misfortunate one's sole consolation⁶¹, take it not away from us; forsaken⁶² by mankind, who will avenge⁶³ us if not God ?"

 

"Who? No one, Therese, absolutely no one; it is in no wise necessary that the misfortunate be avenged⁶⁴; they flatter themselves with the notion because they would like to be, the idea comforts them, but it is not on that account the less false: better still, it is essential that the misfortunate suffer; their humiliation⁶⁵, their anguishes⁶⁶ are included in what Nature decrees, and their miserable⁶⁷ existence is useful to the general scheme, as is that of the prosperity which crushes them; such is the truth which should stifle⁶⁸ remorse⁶⁹ in the tyrant's soul or in the malefactor's; let him not constrain⁷⁰ himself; let him blindly, unthinkingly deliver himself up to causing every hurt the idea for which may be born in him, it is only Nature's voice which suggests this idea; such is the only fashion in which she makes us her laws' executors.

 

When her secret inspirations dispose us to evil, it is evil she wishes, it is evil she requires, for the sum of crimes not being complete, not sufficient to the laws of equilibrium⁷¹, the only laws whereby she is governed, she demands that there be crimes to dress the scales; therefore let him not be afraid, let him not pause, whose brain is driven to concerting ill; let him unheeding commit wrong immediately he discerns the impulsion, it is only by lagging and snuffling he outrages⁷² Nature. But let us ignore ethics⁷³ for a moment, since it's theology you want. Be advised then, young innocent, that the religion you fall back upon, being nothing but the relationship between man and God, nothing but the reverence⁷⁴ the creature thinks himself obliged to show his creator, is annihilated⁷⁵ instantly this creator's existence is itself proven illusory. "Primitive⁷⁶ man, terrified by the phenomena⁷⁷ which harried⁷⁸ him, had necessarily to believe that a sublime⁷⁹ being unknown to him had the direction of their operation and influence; it is native to weakness to suppose strength and to fear it; the human mind, then too much in its infancy⁸⁰ to explore, to discover in Nature's depths the laws of motion, the unique springs of the entire mechanism⁸¹ that struck him with awe⁸², found it simpler to fancy a motor in this Nature than to view Nature as her own mover, and without considering that he would have to go to much more trouble to edify⁸³, to define this gigantic master, than through the study of Nature to find the cause of what amazed him, he acknowledged this sovereign being, he elaborated rituals to worship it: from this moment each nation composed itself an overlord in conformance with its peculiar⁸⁴ characteristics, its knowledge, and its climate; soon there were as many religions on earth as races and peoples and not long after, as many Gods as families; nevertheless, behind all these idols⁸⁵ it was easy to recognize the same absurd illusion, first fruit of human blindness. They appareled it differently, but it was always the same thing. Well, tell me, Therese, merely because these idiots talk drivel about the erection of a wretched chimera⁸⁶ and about the mode of serving him, must it follow that an intelligent man has got to renounce⁸⁷ the certain and present happiness of life; like Aesop's dog, must he abandon the bone for the shadow and renounce his real joys for hallucinations? No, Therese, no, there is no God, Nature sufficeth unto herself; in no wise hath she need of an author; once supposed, that author is naught but a decayed version of herself, is merely what we describe in school by the phrase, a begging of the question. A God predicates a creation, that is to say, an instant when there was nothing, or an instant when all was in chaos⁸⁸.

 

If one or the other of these states was evil, why did your God allow it to subsist⁸⁹? Was it good ? Then why did he change it ? But if all is now good at last, your God has nothing left to do; well, if he is useless, how can he be powerful? And if he is not powerful, how can he be God? If, in a word, Nature moves herself, what do we want with a motor? and if the motor acts upon matter by causing it to move, how is it not itself material? Can you conceive the effect of the mind upon matter and matter receiving motion from the mind which itself has no movement? Examine for one cold-blooded instant all the ridiculous and contradictory⁹⁰ qualities wherewith the fabricators of this execrable chimera have been obliged to clothe him; verify for your own self how they contradict one another, annul⁹¹ one another, and you will recognize that this deific phantom⁹², engendered⁹³ by the fear of some and the ignorance of all, is nothing but a loathsome⁹⁴ platitude⁹⁵ which merits from us neither an instant of faith nor a minute's examination; a pitiable extravagance, disgusting to the mind, revolting to the heart, which ought never to have issued from the darkness save to plunge⁹⁶ back into it, forever to be drowned.

分享到：