102 Les Miserables
the light of things; he had nothing of the prophet and noth-
ing of the magician about him. This humble soul loved, and
that was all.
That he carried prayer to the pitch of a superhuman as-
piration 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 compassionate 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. Universal misery was his mine. The
sadness which reigned everywhere was but an excuse for
unfailing kindness. Love each other; he declared this to be
complete, desired nothing further, and that was the whole
of his doctrine. One day, that man who believed himself to
be a ‘philosopher,’ the senator who has already been alluded
to, said to the Bishop: ‘Just survey the spectacle of the world:
all war against all; the strongest has the most wit. Your love
each other is nonsense.’—‘Well,’ replied Monseigneur Wel-
come, without contesting the point, ‘if it is nonsense, the