Chapter 6 four words and deeds

His conversation is easygoing and pleasant.He always asked himself to be suitable for the knowledge level of the two old women who lived with him.When he laughed, it was indeed a pupil's smile. Madame Magloire called him "Monseigneur" in all sincerity.One day he got up from his armchair and went to the bookcase to fetch a book.That book is on the top shelf.The bishop was short in stature and out of reach. "Madame Magloire," said he, "will you bring me a chair. My lordship is not 'big' for that board." One of his distant relatives, the Countess de Lo, used every opportunity to count before him the so-called "hopes" of her three sons.She has several elders who are very old and dying, and her children are naturally their heirs.The youngest of the three was to receive an annuity of one hundred thousand livres from an aunt, the second inherited his uncle's dukedom, and the eldest son his ancestor's title of minister.The bishop listened to the mother's naive boastings, and never opened his mouth.But once again, when Madame de Lo was babbling on about all those inheritances and "hopes," he seemed more preoccupied than usual.Changing the subject impatiently, she said: "My God, my cousin! What are you thinking?" "I am thinking," said the bishop, "of a strange saying, probably from St. Leave it to the one who has no heir.'”

Another time, he received an obituary from a nobleman in his hometown. On a large sheet of paper, in addition to the various honorary titles of the deceased, he also listed all the feudal and noble titles of all his relatives. go up.He cried, "How strong is the backbone of a dead man! What a burden of titles he is lightly borne by others! These men are wise enough, too, and the grave is used by vanity!" Whenever he had the opportunity, he was fond of mild sarcasm, but almost always with a serious meaning.Once, on Lent, a young vicar came to Digne to preach in the cathedral.He was quite eloquent, and the topic of his lecture was "Charity".He asked the rich to save the poor, so that they would not fall into what he tried to describe as a terrible hell, but into a paradise that he said was very beautiful and charming.Among the audience at that time was a retired merchant named Mr. Japolland, a usurious man who had made half a million dollars in making cloth, serge, woolen cloth, and fedora.Mr. Jalan Pollan never helped any poor people in his life.Since that sermon, everyone has seen him give a sou to the begging old women at the gate of the Catholic Church every Sunday.The six of them had to share the sou.One day the bishop caught him doing that good deed, and he said to his sister with a smile: "Mr. Japoling is buying his heaven for a sou again."

When it comes to philanthropy, he doesn't back down even when he hits a wall, and he still has something intriguing to say.Once, he was collecting donations for the poor in a certain living room in the city.Here is the Marquis de Chantesy, old, rich, miserly, who has a way of being extreme Royalist and extreme Voltairean at the same time.Strange things like that have happened.The bishop came up to him, pushed his arm, and said: "Monsieur the Marquis, you must donate a few cents for me." The Marquis turned his face and replied simply: "My bishop, I have my own poor." "Just leave them to me," said the Bishop.

One day, in the cathedral, he preached like this: "My beloved brothers and my good friends, in the French countryside, there are 1.32 million houses with only three openings; 1,817,000 houses have only two openings, which are doors. and windows; there are 346,000 huts with only one opening, which is the door. This is because of the so-called door and window tax. Please put some poor people, old women, and children in for me. In those houses, look how many fevers and diseases! Cough! God gives air to man, and the law trades in it. I do not slander the law, but I praise God. In Isère, Var, two In the entire Alpes, that is, the upper and lower Alpes, the peasants do not even have carts, they carry manure on their backs; they have no candles, but light pine branches and small pieces of rope dipped in turpentine. In the Dauphine, all the mountains Like that. They eat bread for six months at a time, and it is baked with dried cow dung. In winter, they cut that bread with an ax and soak it in water for twenty-four hours before eating. Be merciful, my brethren! Look at the sufferings of those around you!"

He was born in the south, so it is easy to master various dialects in the south.He learned the dialect of the Languedoc: "Eh be! moussu, ses sage?" the dialect of the Alps: "Onte anaras passa?" the dialect of the Dauphiné: "Puerte un bouen moutou embe un bouen froumage grase." This won the favor of the masses and greatly helped him to approach all kinds of people.In his hut or in the mountains, as at home, he knows the greatest things to say in the most vulgar dialect.He could speak every language, and he could relate to all minds. And he is the same for the upper class and the people.

He never makes a rash judgment on a thing without being fully aware of his surroundings.He used to say, "Let's first study how this mistake happened." He was originally a prodigal son, and he often described himself that way with a smile on his face.He made no strides of rigor; he preached a doctrine, but never with the brows of the brutish defenders, which may be summed up roughly as follows: "Man has a flesh, and this flesh is at the same time his burden and temptation. Man drags it and is dominated by it. "One must watch it, restrain it, restrain it, and obey it only at the end. In that obedience there may be faults; but the faults committed in that way are pardonable. That is a depravity. , but only on the knees, redeemed in prayer.

"Being a saint is a special case; being an upright person is the right way to be a human being. Even though you wander in wrong paths, stumble, and make mistakes, you should always be an upright person. "Make as few mistakes as possible, this is the principle of human beings; not making mistakes, that is the dream of angels. Everything in this world is bound to make mistakes. Mistakes are like a kind of gravity." When he saw people noisy and irritable, he used to say with a smile: "It seems that this is a serious crime that we are all committing. Now it's just because the mask is exposed and we are eager to declare and cover it up."

He was always lenient to the women and the poor oppressed by human society.He said: "Whatever is the fault of women, children, servants, powerless, poor, and ignorant is the fault of husbands, fathers, masters, powerful, rich, and learned." He also said: "To those who are ignorant, you should teach them as much as you can; the crime of society is that it does not provide compulsory education; it is responsible for creating darkness. When a person's heart is full of darkness, sin There it grows. It is not the sinner who is guilty, but the one who makes darkness." We can see that he has a strange and unique attitude of criticizing things.I suspect he got it all from the Gospels.

One day, in a drawing room, he overheard a case being investigated and soon to be brought to trial.A poor man, for the love of a woman and the child he had borne, forged private money at the end of his life.Casting private money was punishable by death in that era.The woman took the first private money he made and spent it, and was arrested.They caught her, but there was only evidence of her crime.Only she can denounce her lover and kill him.She refused to confess.They asked again and again.She is still determined not to confess.In this way, the Attorney General has a plan.He fabricated her lover's change of heart, and forged fragments of letters with great skill to convince the distressed woman that she had a rival in love and that the man was guilty.In the midst of jealousy and grief, she finally denounced her lover, confessed everything, and proved everything.The man was beyond salvation.Soon he was to stand trial in Aix with his female accomplice.The incident was talked of, and everyone praised the magistrate's ability to exploit jealousy, anger to reveal the truth, and the power of the law to be enforced by vengeance.The bishop listened to all this in silence, and when they were finished, he asked:

"Where will the man and woman be tried?" "In the local hall." He asked again: "So, where will the Attorney General be tried?" A tragedy happened to Digne.A man was sentenced to death for murder.The unfortunate man was not a scholar, but he was not completely ignorant either. He had sold skills in the market and set up a letter stall.People in the city are very concerned about the case.On the day before the execution, the prison priest suddenly fell ill.There must be a priest to help the tortured man at his deathbed.Someone went to the curé.He seemed to refuse, saying: "It's none of my business. This kind of drudgery and the juggler have nothing to do with me. I'm sick too, and besides, that place doesn't belong to me." His reply Passed to the Bishop."The curate is right," said the bishop. "That is not his domain, it is mine."

He ran at once to the prison, went down to the cell of the "juggler," called him by name, took him by the hand, and talked to him.He spent a whole day and night by his side, forgetting to eat and sleep, praying to God for the prisoner's soul, and asking the prisoner to save his own.He talked to him about the best, that is, the simplest truths.He was like his father, his brother, his friend; and he was not at all like a bishop if he were not blessing and praying.He taught him everything while stabilizing him and comforting him.The man was going to die of grief and despair.At first, death seemed to him an abyss, and he stood on the edge of that gloomy edge, trembling, and retreating back with a heartbroken heart.He wasn't so stubborn that he didn't care about life or death.His sentence was a violent shock, as if somewhere around him the wall had been thrown down between the mystery of things and what we call life.He kept looking out of the world from that irreparable gap, and all he saw was darkness.The bishop gave him a glimmer of light. The next day they came to mention the unfortunate man, and the Bishop was still with him.He followed him.He was clothed in a purple shawl, with the bishop's crucifix around his neck, and stood before the multitude, shoulder to shoulder with the martyr bound in ropes. He went to the prison cart with him and went to the guillotine together.The person who was tortured was so sad and dejected yesterday, but now he is stretched and excited.He felt his soul was saved, and he looked to God.The bishop embraced him, and when the knife was about to fall, he said: "God raises him who man kills; and he who the brethren drive out shall see the Father again. Pray, believe, come to life. The Father will In front." As he descended from the scaffold, there was something in his eyes that made them all stand back in awe.We do not know which is most awe-inspiring, the paleness of his face, or the tranquility of his countenance."I've just had a big ceremony," he said to his sister, on his way back to the shabby house he used to jokingly call "his palace." The greatest things are often the least understood, and therefore many in the town commented on the bishop's behavior as affectation.But that's a parlance in upper-class parlors.The people, who had no ill will towards the sacrament, were moved and admired the Bishop. As for the bishop, the sight of the guillotine was indeed a shock to him; it was a long time before he recovered his composure. The guillotine, indeed, when erected and standing there, has a bewildering power; till we have never seen the guillotine, we can be more or less indifferent to it, and not express our opinion, Noncommittal; but, if we see one, the awe is so great that we must make up our minds, agree or disapprove.Some admire it, like de Meister.Some people hate it, like Beccaria.The guillotine is the embodiment of the law, its nickname is "repression", it is not neutral, nor does it make people neutral.Whoever beheld it felt the most mysterious shudders.All social problems raise their question marks around that axe.The guillotine is imagination.A guillotine is not a shelf.The guillotine is not a machine.The guillotine is not a lifeless machine of sticks, iron, and rope.It seems to be a living creature with an indescribably eerie active ability.We can say that the frame sees, the machine hears, the machine understands, and the bars and ropes are conscious.When its presence throws our minds into murderous dreams, the guillotine appears horrific, united with everything it does.The guillotine is the accomplice of the executioner, devouring, eating flesh, drinking blood.The guillotine is a monstrosity created by judges and carpenters, a ghost that lives on the death it has created. The impression of that time was indeed terrible and profound. On the second day of the execution and many days later, the bishop still showed a state of constant anxiety.The compulsive composure at the time of his death has disappeared, and the ghosts under the authority of society are entangled with him. He usually comes back from work with a peaceful mind and a good spirit, but now he always seems to be blaming himself.Sometimes he talked to himself, stammering, and muttering miserable things in a low voice.The following is a passage his sister listened to and wrote down one night: "I didn't know how terrible it was before. It is wrong to only pay attention to the laws of God and not to care about the laws of man. Death belongs only to God. What does man have?" Where does power intervene in the unknown?" Those impressions gradually faded or disappeared over time, but it was noticed that the bishop avoided going through the place of execution from then on. The bishop could be called to the bedside of the sick and dying at any time.He knows well that his greatest duties and greatest tasks lie in those places.The homes of widows and orphans, no need to ask, he will go by himself.He knew how to sit for hours in silence next to a man who had lost a wife and a mother who had lost a child.He knows the moment when he shuts his mouth, and the moment when he speaks.Ah!Admirable and admirable comforter!He does not erase suffering by forgetting, but wishes to make it great and glorious.He said: "Be careful what you think about the dead. Don't think about that festering thing. Look, and you'll see the light of your dear dead life at the end of the firmament." He knew that faith could Protect the body and mind.He always tried to comfort the disappointed, so that they can take a step back and think, and turn the grief of looking down at the grave into the grief of looking at the stars.