第一百二十九章 十一 小比克布斯的结局
在复辟初期，小比克布斯修院已开始衰落；这是整个教团普遍衰亡的一部分，十八世纪之后，它像所有宗教团体一样逐渐消亡。静修如同祈祷，是人类的需要之一；但如同革命所触及的一切事物，它将被改造，从敌视社会进步变为促进社会进步。
小比克布斯修院的人口迅速减少。到1840年，小修院已消失，学校也已消失。既无老妪，亦无少女；前者已逝，后者已离去。"他们飞走了"。
永敬会的规则本质上极为严苛，令人望而生畏，圣召在其面前退缩，该修会招不到新成员。1845年，它仍能在各处得到一些平信徒修女。但正式发愿的修女一个也没有。四十年前，修女们将近一百人；十五年前，剩下不到二十八人。如今还有多少？1847年，院长还很年轻，这表明选择范围已缩小。她不到四十岁。随着人数减少，劳累增加，每个人的职责变得更加沉重；那时已能预见，不久将只剩下十二个弯腰驼背、疼痛难忍的肩膀来承受圣本笃的严规。这负担毫不留情，对少数人与对多数人一样沉重。它压垮人，碾碎人。于是她们死去。当本书作者仍住在巴黎时，有两位修女去世。一位二十五岁，另一位二十三岁。后者可以说，如同尤利娅·阿尔皮努拉："我长眠于此。我活了二十三年。"正是由于这种衰落，修院放弃了女童教育。
我们未能不走进这座奇特的房子，未能不向那些伴随着我们、聆听我们讲述或许对让·瓦让的忧郁历史有所裨益的人们介绍它。我们已经深入这个充满古老习俗的团体，这些习俗如今看来如此新颖。这是一个封闭的花园，"禁园"。我们详细谈论了这个奇异的地方，但至少是在细节与尊重可以相容的范围内，带着敬意。我们并非全懂，但也不侮辱任何事物。我们同样远离约瑟夫·德·迈斯特的赞美诗——他最终为刽子手涂油——和伏尔泰的嘲笑——他甚至敢于嘲弄十字架。
顺便说一句，我们可以指出伏尔泰的一个不合逻辑的行为；因为伏尔泰会像为卡拉斯辩护那样为耶稣辩护；即使对于那些否认超自然化身的人来说，十字架代表什么？被杀害的智者。
在十九世纪，宗教思想正经历一场危机。人们正在忘却某些事物，这很好，前提是在忘却它们的同时学到这一点：人心中没有真空。某些拆除正在发生，这是好事，但条件是随后要有重建。
与此同时，让我们研究那些已不复存在的事物。有必要了解它们，哪怕只是为了避免它们。过去的赝品冒用假名，并乐于自称未来。这个幽灵，这个过去，喜欢伪造自己的护照。让我们认清陷阱。让我们保持警惕。过去有一张面孔，迷信，以及一副面具，虚伪。让我们揭露面孔，撕掉面具。
至于修院，它们呈现出一个复杂的问题——文明问题谴责它们，自由问题保护它们。
At the beginning of the Restoration, the convent of the Petit-Picpus
was in its decay; this forms a part of the general death of the order,
which, after the eighteenth century, has been disappearing like all the
religious orders. Contemplation is, like prayer, one of humanity’s
needs; but, like everything which the Revolution touched, it will be
transformed, and from being hostile to social progress, it will become
favorable to it.
The house of the Petit-Picpus was becoming rapidly depopulated. In
1840, the Little Convent had disappeared, the school had disappeared.
There were no longer any old women, nor young girls; the first were
dead, the latter had taken their departure. _Volaverunt_.
The rule of the Perpetual Adoration is so rigid in its nature that it
alarms, vocations recoil before it, the order receives no recruits. In
1845, it still obtained lay-sisters here and there. But of professed
nuns, none at all. Forty years ago, the nuns numbered nearly a hundred;
fifteen years ago there were not more than twenty-eight of them. How
many are there to-day? In 1847, the prioress was young, a sign that the
circle of choice was restricted. She was not forty years old. In
proportion as the number diminishes, the fatigue increases, the service
of each becomes more painful; the moment could then be seen drawing
near when there would be but a dozen bent and aching shoulders to bear
the heavy rule of Saint-Benoît. The burden is implacable, and remains
the same for the few as for the many. It weighs down, it crushes. Thus
they die. At the period when the author of this book still lived in
Paris, two died. One was twenty-five years old, the other twenty-three.
This latter can say, like Julia Alpinula: _“Hic jaceo. Vixi annos
viginti et tres.” _ It is in consequence of this decay that the convent
gave up the education of girls.
We have not felt able to pass before this extraordinary house without
entering it, and without introducing the minds which accompany us, and
which are listening to our tale, to the profit of some, perchance, of
the melancholy history of Jean Valjean. We have penetrated into this
community, full of those old practices which seem so novel to-day. It
is the closed garden, _hortus conclusus_. We have spoken of this
singular place in detail, but with respect, in so far, at least, as
detail and respect are compatible. We do not understand all, but we
insult nothing. We are equally far removed from the hosanna of Joseph
de Maistre, who wound up by anointing the executioner, and from the
sneer of Voltaire, who even goes so far as to ridicule the cross.
An illogical act on Voltaire’s part, we may remark, by the way; for
Voltaire would have defended Jesus as he defended Calas; and even for
those who deny superhuman incarnations, what does the crucifix
represent? The assassinated sage.
In this nineteenth century, the religious idea is undergoing a crisis.
People are unlearning certain things, and they do well, provided that,
while unlearning them they learn this: There is no vacuum in the human
heart. Certain demolitions take place, and it is well that they do, but
on condition that they are followed by reconstructions.
In the meantime, let us study things which are no more. It is necessary
to know them, if only for the purpose of avoiding them. The
counterfeits of the past assume false names, and gladly call themselves
the future. This spectre, this past, is given to falsifying its own
passport. Let us inform ourselves of the trap. Let us be on our guard.
The past has a visage, superstition, and a mask, hypocrisy. Let us
denounce the visage and let us tear off the mask.
As for convents, they present a complex problem,—a question of
civilization, which condemns them; a question of liberty, which
protects them.
