雨果 悲惨世界 英文版1-第15部分

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kled　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　bat　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　Wele　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　plexion；　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　plete　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；　muning　with　himself；　peaceful；　adoring；　paring　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　prehend　the　inprehensible；　he　gazed　upon　it。
　　He　did　not　study　God；　he　was　dazzled　by　him。
　　He　considered　those　magnificent　conjunctions　of　atoms；　which　municate　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　prehend　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。


BOOK　FIRSTA　JUST　MAN
CHAPTER　XIV　
　　WHAT　HE　THOUGHT
　　　One　last　word。
　　Since　this　sort　of　details　might；　particularly　at　the　present　moment；　and　to　use　an　expression　now　in　fashion；　give　to　the　Bishop　of　D　a　certain　〃pantheistical〃　physiognomy；　and　induce　the　belief；　either　to　his　credit　or　discredit；　that　he　entertained　one　of　those　personal　philosophies　which　are　peculiar　to　our　century；　which　sometimes　spring　up　in　solitary　spirits；　and　there　take　on　a　form　and　grow　until　they　usurp　the　place　of　religion；　we　insist　upon　it；　that　not　one　of　those　persons　who　knew　Monseigneur　Wele　would　have　thought　himself　authorized　to　think　anything　of　the　sort。　That　which　enlightened　this　man　was　his　heart。
　　His　wisdom　was　made　of　the　light　which　es　from　there。
　　No　systems；　many　works。
　　Abstruse　speculations　contain　vertigo；　no；　there　is　nothing　to　indicate　that　he　risked　his　mind　in　apocalypses。　The　apostle　may　be　daring；　but　the　bishop　must　be　timid。
　　He　would　probably　have　felt　a　scruple　at　sounding　too　far　in　advance　certain　problems　which　are；　in　a　manner；　reserved　for　terrible　great　minds。　There　is　a　sacred　horror　beneath　the　porches　of　the　enigma；　those　gloomy　openings　stand　yawning　there；　but　something　tells　you；　you；　a　passer…by　in　life；　that　you　must　not　enter。　Woe　to　him　who　penetrates　thither！
　　Geniuses　in　the　impenetrable　depths　of　abstraction　and　pure　speculation；　situated；　so　to　speak；　above　all　dogmas；　propose　their　ideas　to　God。
　　Their　prayer　audaciously　offers　discussion。　Their　adoration　interrogates。
　　This　is　direct　religion；　which　is　full　of　anxiety　and　responsibility　for　him　who　attempts　its　steep　cliffs。
　　Human　meditation　has　no　limits。
　　At　his　own　risk　and　peril；　it　analyzes　and　digs　deep　into　its　own　bedazzlement。
　　One　might　almost　say；　that　by　a　sort　of　splendid　reaction；　it　with　it　dazzles　nature；　the　mysterious　world　which　surrounds　us　renders　back　what　it　has　received；　it　is　probable　that　the　contemplators　are　contemplated。　
However　that　may　be；　there　are　on　earth　men　whoare　they　men？　perceive　distinctly　at　the　verge　of　the　horizons　of　revery　the　heights　of　the　absolute；　and　who　have　the　terrible　vision　of　the　infinite　mountain。
　　Monseigneur　Wele　was　one　of　these　men；　Monseigneur　Wele　was　not　a　genius。
　　He　would　have　feared　those　sublimities　whence　some　very　great　men　even；　like　Swedenborg　and　Pascal；　have　slipped　into　insanity。
　　Certainly；　these　powerful　reveries　have　their　moral　utility；　and　by　these　arduous　paths　one　approaches　to　ideal　perfection。
　　As　for　him；　he　took　the　path　which　shortens；　the　Gospel's。
　　He　did　not　attempt　to　impart　to　his　chasuble　the　folds　of　Elijah's　mantle；　he　projected　no　ray　of　future　upon　the　dark　groundswell　of　events；　he　did　not　see　to　condense　in　flame　the　light　of　things；　he　had　nothing　of　the　prophet　and　nothing　of　the　magician　about　him。　This　humble　soul　loved；　and　that　was　all。
　　That　he　carried　prayer　to　the　pitch　of　a　superhuman　aspiration　is　probable：
　　but　one　can　no　more　pray　too　much　than　one　can　love　too　much；　and　if　it　is　a　heresy　to　pray　beyond　the　texts；　Saint　Theresa　and　Saint　Jerome　would　be　heretics。
　　He　inclined　towards　all　that　groans　and　all　that　expiates。　The　universe　appeared　to　him　like　an　immense　malady；　everywhere　he　felt　fever；　everywhere　he　heard　the　sound　of　suffering；　and；　without　seeking　to　solve　the　enigma；　he　strove　to　dress　the　wound。　The　terrible　spectacle　of　created　things　developed　tenderness　in　him；　he　was　occupied　only　in　finding　for　himself；　and　in　inspiring　others　with　the　best　way　to　passionate　and　relieve。
　　That　which　exists　was　for　this　good　and　rare　priest　a　permanent　subject　of　sadness　which　sought　consolation。
　　There　are　men　who　toil　at　extracting　gold；　he　toiled　at　the　extraction　of　pity