Just as there are bigwigs elsewhere，there are big mitres in the Church.These are the bishops who stand well at Court，who are rich，well endowed，skilful，accepted by the world，who know how to pray，no doubt，but who know also how to beg，who feel little scruple at making a whole diocese dance attendance in their person，who are connecting links between the sacristy and diplomacy，who are abbes rather than priests，prelates rather than bishops.Happy those who approach them！
Being persons of influence，they create a shower about them，upon the assiduous and the favored，and upon all the young men who understand the art of pleasing，of large parishes，prebends，archidiaconates，chaplaincies，and cathedral posts，while awaiting episcopal honors.
As they advance themselves，they cause their satellites to progress also；it is a whole solar system on the march.
Their radiance casts a gleam of purple over their suite.
Their prosperity is crumbled up behind the scenes，into nice little promotions.
The larger the diocese of the patron，the fatter the curacy for the favorite.
And then，there is Rome.
A bishop who understands how to become an archbishop，an archbishop who knows how to become a cardinal，carries you with him as conclavist；you enter a court of papal jurisdiction，you receive the pallium，and behold！you are an auditor，then a papal chamberlain，then monsignor，and from a Grace to an Eminence is only a step，and between the Eminence and the Holiness there is but the smoke of a ballot.
Every skull-cap may dream of the tiara.The priest is nowadays the only man who can become a king in a regular manner；and what a king！the supreme king.
Then what a nursery of aspirations is a seminary！
How many blushing choristers，how many youthful abbes bear on their heads Perrette's pot of milk！Who knows how easy it is for ambition to call itself vocation？in good faith，perchance，and deceiving itself，devotee that it is.
Monseigneur Bienvenu，poor，humble，retiring，was not accounted among the big mitres.
This was plain from the complete absence of young priests about him.
We have seen that he'did not take'in Paris.
Not a single future dreamed of engrafting itself on this solitary old man.
Not a single sprouting ambition committed the folly of putting forth its foliage in his shadow.
His canons and grand-vicars were good old men，rather vulgar like himself，walled up like him in this diocese，without exit to a cardinalship，and who resembled their bishop，with this difference，that they were finished and he was completed.
The impossibility of growing great under Monseigneur Bienvenu was so well understood，that no sooner had the young men whom he ordained left the seminary than they got themselves recommended to the archbishops of Aix or of Auch，and went off in a great hurry.
For，in short，we repeat it，men wish to be pushed.
A saint who dwells in a paroxysm of abnegation is a dangerous neighbor；he might communicate to you，by contagion，an incurable poverty，an anchylosis of the joints，which are useful in advancement，and in short，more renunciation than you desire；and this infectious virtue is avoided.
Hence the isolation of Monseigneur Bienvenu.
We live in the midst of a gloomy society.Success；that is the lesson which falls drop by drop from the slope of corruption.
Be it said in passing，that success is a very hideous thing.
Its false resemblance to merit deceives men.
For the masses，success has almost the same profile as supremacy.
Success，that Menaechmus of talent，has one dupe，——history.
Juvenal and Tacitus alone grumble at it.In our day，a philosophy which is almost official has entered into its service，wears the livery of success，and performs the service of its antechamber.
Succeed：
theory.
Prosperity argues capacity.Win in the lottery，and behold！you are a clever man.
He who triumphs is venerated.
Be born with a silver spoon in your mouth！everything lies in that.
Be lucky，and you will have all the rest；be happy，and people will think you great.
Outside of five or six immense exceptions，which compose the splendor of a century，contemporary admiration is nothing but short-sightedness.Gilding is gold.
It does no harm to be the first arrival by pure chance，so long as you do arrive.
The common herd is an old Narcissus who adores himself，and who applauds the vulgar herd.
That enormous ability by virtue of which one is Moses，Aeschylus，Dante，Michael Angelo，or Napoleon，the multitude awards on the spot，and by acclamation，to whomsoever attains his object，in whatsoever it may consist.Let a notary transfigure himself into a deputy：
let a false Corneille compose Tiridate；let a eunuch come to possess a harem；let a military Prudhomme accidentally win the decisive battle of an epoch；let an apothecary invent cardboard shoe-soles for the army of the Sambre-and-Meuse，and construct for himself，out of this cardboard，sold as leather，four hundred thousand francs of income；let a pork-packer espouse usury，and cause it to bring forth seven or eight millions，of which he is the father and of which it is the mother；let a preacher become a bishop by force of his nasal drawl；let the steward of a fine family be so rich on retiring from service that he is made minister of finances，——and men call that Genius，just as they call the face of Mousqueton Beauty，and the mien of Claude Majesty.
With the constellations of space they confound the stars of the abyss which are made in the soft mire of the puddle by the feet of ducks.
XIII WHAT HE BELIEVED
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？
