A moment ago we said that nothing is left of the body. Millions of
organisms have lived, there are no remains of them. Air, water, smoke,
dust. _Memento, homo, quia pulvis es et in pulverem revertebis._
Remember oh man! that dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return,
says the priest to the faithful, when he scatters the ashes on the day
after the carnival.
The body disappears entirely. It goes where the corpse of Cæsar went an
hour after the extinction of his pyre. Nor will there be more remains of
any of us. And the whole of Humanity, and the Earth itself, will also
disappear one day. Let no one talk of the Progress of Humanity as an
end! That would be too gross a decoy.
If the soul were also to disappear in smoke, what would be left of the
vital and intellectual organization of the world? Nothing.
On this hypothesis, _all_ would be reduced to _nothing_.
Our reason is not immense, our terrestrial faculties are sufficiently
limited, but this reason and these faculties suffice none the less to
make us feel the improbability, the absurdity, of this hypothesis, and
we reject it as incompatible with the sublime grandeur of the spectacle
of the universe.
Undoubtedly, Creation does not seem to concern itself with us. It
proceeds on its inexorable course without consulting our sensations.
With the poet we regret the implacable serenity of Nature, opposing the
irony of its smiling splendor to our mourning, our revolts, and our
despair.
Que peu de temps suffit pour changer toutes choses!
Nature au front serein, comme vous oubliez!
Et comme vous brisez dans vos métamorphoses
Les fils mystérieux où nos coeurs sont liés.
D'autres vont maintenant passer où nous passâmes;
Nous y sommes venus, d'autres vont y venir,
Et le songe qu'avaient ébauché nos deux âmes,
Ils le continueront sans pouvoir le finir.
Car personne ici-bas ne termine et n'acheve;
Les pires des humains sont comme les meilleurs;
Nous nous éveillons tous au même endroit du rêve:
Tout commence en ce monde et tout finit ailleurs.
Répondez, vallon pur, répondez, solitude!
O Nature, abritée en ce désert si beau,
Quand nous serons couchés tous deux, dans l'attitude
Que donne aux morts pensifs la forme du tombeau,
Est-ce que vous serez à ce point insensible,
De nous savoir perdus, morts avec nos amours,
Et de continuer votre fête paisible
Et de toujours sourire et de chanter toujours?[16]
_Note.--Free Translation._
How brief a time suffices for all things to change! Serene-fronted
Nature, too soon you will forget!... in your metamorphoses
ruthlessly snapping the cords that bind our hearts together!