We are not obliged to sound the Bishop of D—— on the score of orthodoxy. In the presence of such a soul we feel ourselves in no mood but respect. The conscience of the just man should be accepted on his word. Moreover， certain natures being given， we admit the possible development of all beauties of human virtue in a belief that differs from our own.
What did he think of this dogma， or of that mystery? These secrets of the inner tribunal of the conscience are known only to the tomb， where souls enter naked. The point on which we are certain is， that the difficulties of faith never resolved themselves into hypocrisy in his case. No decay is possible to the diamond. He believed to the extent of his powers. "Credo in Patrem，" he often exclaimed. Moreover， he drew from good works that amount of satisfaction which suffices to the conscience， and which whispers to a man， "Thou art with God!"
The point which we consider it our duty to note is， that outside of and beyond his faith， as it were， the Bishop possessed an excess of love. In was in that quarter， quia multum amavit，--because he loved much--that he was regarded as vulnerable by "serious men，" "grave persons" and "reasonable people"; favorite locutions of our sad world where egotism takes its word of command from pedantry. What was this excess of love? It was a serene benevolence which overflowed men， as we have already pointed out， and which， on occasion， extended even to things. He lived without disdain. He was indulgent towards God's creation. Every man， even the best， has within him a thoughtless harshness which he reserves for animals. The Bishop of D—— had none of that harshness， which is peculiar to many priests， nevertheless. He did not go as far as the Brahmin， but he seemed to have weighed this saying of Ecclesiastes: "Who knoweth whither the soul of the animal goeth?" Hideousness of aspect， deformity of instinct， troubled him not， and did not arouse his indignation. He was touched， almost softened by them. It seemed as though he went thoughtfully away to seek beyond the bounds of life which is apparent， the cause， the explanation， or the excuse for them. He seemed at times to be asking God to commute these penalties. He examined without wrath， and with the eye of a linguist who is deciphering a palimpsest， that portion of chaos which still exists in nature. This revery sometimes caused him to utter odd sayings. One morning he was in his garden， and thought himself alone， but his sister was walking behind him， unseen by him: suddenly he paused and gazed at something on the ground; it was a large， black， hairy， frightful spider. His sister heard him say:--
"Poor beast! It is not its fault!"
Why not mention these almost divinely childish sayings of kindness? Puerile they may be; but these sublime puerilities were peculiar to Saint Francis d'Assisi and of Marcus Aurelius. One day he sprained his ankle in his effort to avoid stepping on an ant. Thus lived this just man. Sometimes he fell asleep in his garden， and then there was nothing more venerable possible.
Monseigneur Bienvenu had formerly been， if the stories anent his youth， and even in regard to his manhood， were to be believed， a passionate， and， possibly， a violent man. His universal suavity was less an instinct of nature than the result of a grand conviction which had filtered into his heart through the medium of life， and had trickled there slowly， thought by thought; for， in a character， as in a rock， there may exist apertures made by drops of water. These hollows are uneffaceable; these formations are indestructible.
In 1815， as we think we have already said， he reached his seventy-fifth birthday， but he did not appear to be more than sixty. He was not tall; he was rather plump; and， in order to combat this tendency， he was fond of taking long strolls on foot; his step was firm， and his form was but slightly bent， a detail from which we do not pretend to draw any conclusion. Gregory XVI.， at the age of eighty， held himself erect and smiling， which did not prevent him from being a bad bishop. Monseigneur Welcome had what the people term a "fine head，" but so amiable was he that they forgot that it was fine.
When he conversed with that infantile gayety which was one of his charms， and of which we have already spoken， people felt at their ease with him， and joy seemed to radiate from his whole person. His fresh and ruddy complexion， his very white teeth， all of which he had preserved， and which were displayed by his smile， gave him that open and easy air which cause the remark to be made of a man， "He's a good fellow"; and of an old man， "He is a fine man." That， it will be recalled， was the effect which he produced upon Napoleon. On the first encounter， and to one who saw him for the first time， he was nothing， in fact， but a fine man. But if one remained near him for a few hours， and beheld him in the least degree pensive， the fine man became gradually transfigured， and took on some imposing quality， I know not what; his broad and serious brow， rendered august by his white locks， became august also by virtue of meditation; majesty radiated from his goodness， though his goodness ceased not to be radiant; one experienced something of the emotion which one would feel on beholding a smiling angel slowly unfold his wings， without ceasing to smile. Respect， an unutterable respect， penetrated you by degrees and mounted to your heart， and one felt that one had before him one of those strong， thoroughly tried， and indulgent souls where thought is so grand that it can no longer be anything but gentle.
As we have seen， prayer， the celebration of the offices of religion， alms-giving， the consolation of the afflicted， the cultivation of a bit of land， fraternity， frugality， hospitality， renunciation， confidence， study， work， filled every day of his life. Filled is exactly the word; certainly the Bishop's day was quite full to the brim， of good words and good deeds. Nevertheless， it was not complete if cold or rainy weather prevented his passing an hour or two in his garden before going to bed， and after the two women had retired. It seemed to be a sort of rite with him， to prepare himself for slumber by meditation in the presence of the grand spectacles of the nocturnal heavens. Sometimes， if the two old women were not asleep， they heard him pacing slowly along the walks at a very advanced hour of the night. He was there alone， communing with himself， peaceful， adoring， comparing the serenity of his heart with the serenity of the ether， moved amid the darkness by the visible splendor of the constellations and the invisible splendor of God， opening his heart to the thoughts which fall from the Unknown. At such moments， while he offered his heart at the hour when nocturnal flowers offer their perfume， illuminated like a lamp amid the starry night， as he poured himself out in ecstasy in the midst of the universal radiance of creation， he could not have told himself， probably， what was passing in his spirit; he felt something take its flight from him， and something descend into him. Mysterious exchange of the abysses of the soul with the abysses of the universe!
He thought of the grandeur and presence of God; of the future eternity， that strange mystery; of the eternity past， a mystery still more strange; of all the infinities， which pierced their way into all his senses， beneath his eyes; and， without seeking to comprehend the incomprehensible， he gazed upon it. He did not study God; he was dazzled by him. He considered those magnificent conjunctions of atoms， which communicate aspects to matter， reveal forces by verifying them， create individualities in unity， proportions in extent， the innumerable in the infinite， and， through light， produce beauty. These conjunctions are formed and dissolved incessantly; hence life and death.
He seated himself on a wooden bench， with his back against a decrepit vine; he gazed at the stars， past the puny and stunted silhouettes of his fruit-trees. This quarter of an acre， so poorly planted， so encumbered with mean buildings and sheds， was dear to him， and satisfied his wants.
What more was needed by this old man， who divided the leisure of his life， where there was so little leisure， between gardening in the daytime and contemplation at night? Was not this narrow enclosure， with the heavens for a ceiling， sufficient to enable him to adore God in his most divine works， in turn? Does not this comprehend all， in fact? and what is there left to desire beyond it? A little garden in which to walk， and immensity in which to dream. At one's feet that which can be cultivated and plucked; over head that which one can study and meditate upon: some flowers on earth， and all the stars in the sky.
在宗教的真谛问题上，我们对迪涅的主教先生不能作任何窥测。面对着象他那样一颗心，我们只能有敬佩的心情。我们应当完全信服一个心地正直的人。并且，我们认为，在具备了某些品质的情况下，人的品德的各种美都是可以在和我们不同的信仰中得到发展的。
他对这样一种教义或那样一种神秘究竟作何理解呢？那些隐在心灵深处的秘密，只有那迎接赤裸裸的灵魂的坟墓才能知道。不过有一点我们可以肯定，那就是，在解决信仰方面的困难问题时，他从来不采取口是心非的虚伪态度。金刚石是决不至于腐烂的。他尽他力所能及，竭诚信仰。“信天父。”①他常说。此外，他还在行善中希求一定程度的、无愧于良心也无愧于上帝的满足。
我们认为应当指出的是，主教在他的信心之外（不妨这样说）和这信心之上，还存在着一种过分的仁爱。正是在那上面，“由于多爱”②，他才被那些“端庄”、“严肃”和“通达”的人认为是有缺点的；“端庄”、“严肃”、“通达”这些字眼也正是我们这个凄惨世界里那些全凭贬抑别人来夸耀自己的人所喜闻乐见的。他那种过分的仁爱是什么？是一种冷静的对人关切的心，他关心众人，正如我们指出过的已经无微不至，有时还关心到其他的生物。他一生不曾有过奚落人的心。他对上帝的创造从不苛求。任何人，即使是最善良的人，对待动物，无意中总还保留一种暴戾之气。许多神甫都具有这种暴戾之气，而迪涅的这位主教却一点也没有。他虽然还没有达到婆罗门教的境界，但对圣书中“谁知道动物的灵魂归宿何处？”这一句话，似乎作过深长的思索。外形的丑陋和本性的怪异都不能惊动他，触犯他。他却反而会受到感动，几乎起爱怜的心。他聚精会神，仿佛要在生命的表相之外追究出其所以然的根源、理由或苦衷。有时他好象还恳求上帝加以改造。他用语言学家考证古人遗墨的眼光，平心静气地观察自然界中迄今还存在着的多种多样的混乱现象。那种遐想有时会使他说出一些怪话。一天早晨，他正在园里，他以为身边没有人，其实他的妹子在他后面跟着走，他没有瞧见，忽然，他停下来，望着地上的一件东西，一只黑色、毛茸茸、怪可怕的大蜘蛛。他妹子听见他说：
“可怜虫！这不是它的过错。”
①“信天父”，原文为拉丁文CredoinPatrem。
②“由于多爱”，原文为拉丁文quiamultumamavit。
那种出自菩萨心肠的孩儿话，为什么不可以说呢？当然那是一种稚气，但是这种绝妙的稚气也正是阿西西的圣方济各①和马可·奥里略②有过的。一天，他为了不肯踏死一只蚂蚁，竟扭伤了筋骨。
①圣方济各（FrancoisdAAssise，1181?226），一译“法兰西斯”，方济各会创始人，生于意大利阿西西。一二○九年成立“方济各托钵修会”，修士自称“小兄弟”，故又名“小兄弟会”。
②马可·奥里略（MarcAurèle，121?80），罗马皇帝，斯多葛派哲学家。
这个正直的人便是这样过活的。有时他睡在自己的园里，那真是一种最能令人向往的事。
据传说，卞福汝主教从前在青年时期，甚至在壮年时期，都曾是一个热情的人，也许还是一个粗暴的人。他后来的那种溥及一切的仁慈，与其说是天赋的本性，不如说是他在生活过程中一步步逐渐达到大彻大悟的结果，因为，人心和岩石一样，也可以有被水滴穿的孔。那些空隙是不会消失的，那些成绩是毁灭不了的。
在一八一五年，我们好象已经说过，他已到了七十五岁，但是看去好象还没有过六十。他的身材是矮矮胖胖的，为了避免肥满，他常喜欢作长距离的步行；他腿力仍健，背稍微伛一点，这些全是不重要的事，我们不打算在这上面作什么结论。格列高利十六①到了八十岁还是身躯挺直、笑容满面的，但他仍是一个坏主教。卞福汝主教的相貌正象老乡们所说的那种“美男子”，但他的和蔼性格已使人忘了他面貌的美。
①格列高利十六（GrégoireXVI，1765?846），一八三一年至一八四六年为罗马教皇。
他在谈话中不时嬉笑，有些孩子气，那也是他的风采之一。这我们已经说过了，我们和他接近就会感到身心怡畅，好象他的谈笑会带来满座春风。他的肤色红润，他保全了一嘴洁白的牙齿，笑时露出来，给他添上一种坦率和平易近人的神气，那种神气可以使一个壮年人被人称为“好孩子”，也可以使一个老年人被人称为“好汉子”。我们记得，他当年给拿破仑的印象正是这样的。乍一看来，他在初次和他见面的人的心目中，确也只不过是一个好汉子。但是如果我们和他接触了几小时，只须稍稍望见他运用心思，那个好汉子便慢慢变了样，会令人莫名其妙地肃然生畏；他那广而庄重、原就在白发下显得尊严的前额，也因潜心思考而倍加尊严了；威神出自慈祥，而慈祥之气仍不停散布；我们受到的感动，正如看见一个笑容可掬的天使在缓缓展开他的翅膀，一面仍不停地露着笑容。一种敬意，一种无可言喻的敬意会油然而生，直入你的胸臆，于是我们感到在我们面前的确是一位坚定、饱经世故的仁厚长者，他的胸襟既那么开朗，那他的思想也就必然温柔敦厚的了。
我们已经见过，他一生中每一天的时刻都是被祈祷、上祭、布施、安慰伤心人、种一小块园地、实行仁爱、节食、招待过路客人、克己、信人、学习、劳动这些事充满了的。“充满”这两个字是恰当的，并且主教过的这种日子又一定洋溢着善良的思想、善良的言语和善良的行为，直到完善的境界。但是，到了晚上，当那两个妇女已经退去休息时，如果天冷，或是下雨，使他不能到园里去待上一两个钟点再去就寝的话，他那一天也还是过得不满足的。面对着太虚中寥廓的夜景，缪然默念，以待瞌睡，在他，这好象已是一种仪轨了。有时，夜深人静以后，那两个老妇人如果还没有睡着，她们常听见他在那几条小道上缓步徘徊。他在那里，独自一人，虔诚，恬静，爱慕一切，拿自己心中的谧静去比拟太空的谧静，从黑暗中去感受星斗的有形的美和上帝的无形的美。那时，夜花正献出它们的香气，他也献出了他的心，他的心正象一盏明灯，点在繁星闪闪的中央，景仰赞叹，飘游在造物的无边无际的光辉里。他自己也许说不出萦绕在他心中的究竟是什么，他只感到有东西从他体中飞散出去，也有东西降落回来。心灵的幽奥和宇宙的幽奥的神秘的交往！
他想到上帝的伟大，也想到上帝和他同在；想到绵绵无尽的将来是一种深不可测的神秘，无可穷竟的往古，更是神秘渺茫；想到宇宙在他的眼底朝着各个方面无止境地扩展延伸；他不强求了解这种无法了解的现象，但是他凝神注视着一切。他不研究上帝，他为之心旷神怡。他涉想到原子的奇妙结合能使物质具有形象，能在组合时发生力量，在整体中创造出个体，在空间创造出广度和长度，在无极中创造出无量数，并能通过光线显示美。那样的结合，生生灭灭，了无尽期，因而有生死。
他坐在一条木凳上，靠着一个朽了的葡萄架，穿过那些果树的瘦弱蜷屈的暗影，仰望群星。在那四分之一亩的地方，树木既种得那样少，残棚破屋又那么挤，但是他留恋它，心里也知足。
这个老人一生的空闲时间既那么少，那一点空闲时间在白天又已被园艺占去，在晚上也已用在沉思冥想，他还有什么希求呢？那一小块园地，上有天空，不是已足供他用来反复景仰上帝的最美妙的工作和最卓绝的工作吗？的确，难道那样不已经十全十美，还有什么可奢求的呢？一院小小的园地供他盘桓，一片浩阔的天空供他神游。脚下有东西供他培植收获，头上有东西供他探讨思索，地下的是几朵花，天上的是万点星。
