The Shadow of Great Britain

46: Chapter 8 The Pitiful Person 46: Chapter 8 The Pitiful Person Arthur looked intently at the other person’s face for a good while upon hearing this, before he stood up with a smile and took a tea set from the table beside him.

He placed the teacup in front of Newman, and while pouring tea for him, he said, “Mr.

Newman, you should drink some water first.

Because I reckon this might be a very long topic.”

Newman looked up at the sky outside the window and nodded, “It’s alright, Mr.

Hastings.

If we run out of time, tomorrow, no, even the day after tomorrow, I can continue to come.”

Taking advantage of Newman’s attention focused on Arthur, Agares snuck a piece of sugar from the jar into his mouth.

The Red Devil scorned, “Arthur, do you know why I ended up in Hell?

It’s because Heaven is full of these stubborn fools.

He’s not in a hurry, but I sure am.”

Arthur ignored Agares, only smiling and sitting back down in his chair.

Resting his elbows on the desk, he said, “Mr.

Newman, it seems you really want to know the answer.

Someone like you shouldn’t have gone to Oxford.”

“Why?” asked Newman, puzzled.

“Oxford offers the best education in all of England.”

Arthur shook his head, “Really?

Cambridge says the same.

Such arguments are far too contradictory, like how a true Oxford priest could never approve of Thomas Paine, England can’t possibly have two number ones at the same time.”

Newman looked somewhat confused and asked, “Why couldn’t an Oxford priest approve of Thomas Paine?”

Arthur inquired, “Then may I ask, what exactly is your opinion of Mr.

Paine?”

Newman was taken aback by Arthur’s question, and after pondering for a long time, he hesitantly said.

“I can’t say I dislike part of his remarks, at most I just disagree with him.

And for the rest of his remarks, I have high praise.”

Warming his hands with the teacup, Arthur said, “Have you ever thought about why this phenomenon occurs?”

“This…”

Newman’s expression looked a bit conflicted, his right hand gripping the cross on his chest, veins bulging, but after being silent for a while, he seemed to give up halfway and slumped back into his chair, powerless.

“I am a devout believer; I admire Paine, but he is an atheist, and I would rather die than betray God.

Without faith, what difference is there between me and the dead?”

Upon hearing this, Arthur couldn’t help but reveal a trace of a smile.

He waved his hand, consoling, “Mr.

Newman, you might be taking this too seriously.

Appreciating Paine and betraying God are not necessarily connected.

Although Mr.

Paine always claimed to be an atheist, based on his actions, I believe he is not only not an atheist, but in fact a perfectly standard Protestant believer.”

Startled by these words, Newman’s mouth gaped slightly open, and he almost immediately jumped up from his chair, as if he had witnessed a miracle.

He pressed, “Mr.

Hastings, how so?”

Arthur shrugged, smiling as he said, “Perhaps it’s because the criteria by which you and I judge whether a person has faith differ.

I believe that to judge whether a person has faith, one must do so based on his actions and the logic behind them.

As you said, Mr.

Paine is an idealist who has rid himself of low tastes, who is devoid of self-interest, and who practices the hardest yet most correct path.

But haven’t you noticed, his short but great life, the principles he held fast to, encompass both Calvinism and Lutheranism.”

From the perspective of a Catholic fundamentalist like me, Mr.

Paine is indeed the epitome of the finest traditions of both Calvinism and Lutheranism.

Calvinism does not emphasize earthly material life, has extremely high moral standards for its followers, and is active in various social charity and poverty relief activities.

From our Scotland Yard’s statistical data, in just the Greater London area alone, there are hundreds of relief groups formed spontaneously by Calvinist believers.

And during each society fundraising, those most eager to participate are also these Calvinist believers, who mostly live austere lives themselves.

They are the remaining faint lights in the darkest areas of London, and while these lights may not be dazzling, they can provide a glimmer of hope to the poor struggling on the edge of life and death, about to fall into the abyss.

In some respects, the contribution of these believers to reducing London’s crime rate may even surpass Scotland Yard; they are people deserving of respect, just like Thomas Paine.

And as for Lutheranism, they are staunch supporters of equality for all.

You should know better than I that Lutheranism has always upheld the principle that ‘every believer is a priest,’ believing that every Christian has an equal status and rights in the church, is entitled to serve as clergy, and should have no special privileges.”

Is this not precisely the most important point Mr.

Paine emphasized in “Human Rights”?

And similarly, Calvinism and Lutheranism both endorse ‘justification by faith,’ holding that only those with pure faith can become true Christians and be redeemed.

Mr.

Newman, you are more knowledgeable about Mr.

Paine’s life than I am, could you find anyone whose faith was purer than Mr.

Paine’s?

You’ve merely been misled by Mr.

Paine’s reputation as an atheist, believing that all he possessed were ideals.

But in my view, ideals alone could not have sustained his journey across the countrysides of England, the prairies of the United States, and the fields of France.

Only when ideals are purified into faith can such unwavering strength be brought forth.

As a devout believer in God, an adherent of Catholic fundamentalism, regardless of Mr.

Paine’s rhetoric in life, I too feel honored by his attempts to redeem himself and the masses, and I feel a profound sorrow for his passing.

His flesh may have decayed, but his soul, along with his exalted faith, will ascend to Heaven.

I can almost see it now—he is roaming the abodes of Heaven, beside him stand the six-winged angels, and from the depths of his soul bursts forth a light of eternal immutability.”

Mr.

Newman quietly listened to Arthur’s words.

At first, his eyes were a bit dull, but by the end, a glimmer of light had appeared in his pupils.

The rain on the streets gradually stopped, and Priest Newman looked out the window.

Through droplets sparkling with a prism of colors, he seemed to see the solitary figure of Thomas Paine against the dispersing clouds above and his unyieldingly firm arms.

Arthur looked at him with a smile, simply pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket and handing it over.

It was then that Newman realized that, unbeknownst to him, tears had already dampened his cheeks, trickling down his prominent nose and dropping, one by one, onto the “Human Rights” and “Common Sense” set on his desk.

“Mr.

Hastings, I apologize…”

Newman took the handkerchief and wiped the moisture from the corners of his eyes, smiling through his tears, he said.

“What you said was truly wonderful.

I now finally understand why you manage to convince the judge and jury in court.

Your words seem to possess magic, capable of making anyone pay homage to you at any moment.”

Upon hearing this, Arthur simply shook his head and spoke, “My words hold no magic.

They move people only because I speak to what lies in their hearts.

“It is precisely because you think the same way that these plain words can stir your thoughts, making you feel joy and sadness.

“The reason behind your confusion lies in the inconsistency between what you see, think, learn, and what you truly believe and accept at heart, which casts you into a deep abyss of pain.

“That is why I said that Oxford cannot be considered England’s premier university; their knowledge, no matter how elaborately adorned, has ultimately torn away from this world.

“Perhaps students like you might be captivated by their meticulously constructed Hanging Gardens of Babylon while in school; but no matter how beautiful a garden, it is still a baseless castle in the sky.

“Once you graduate and enter society, all illusions will collapse.

If you do not break free and change in silence, you will slowly head towards death in silence.

“Don’t forget the standpoint Thomas Paine emphasized in his writings, that eras change, and all things must adapt with the times.

“The good old days will eventually pass, and the prologue to the new century is right before us.

“Although I don’t think all the goodness preserved within civilization will disappear altogether, if they are to remain, they must do so in an entirely new aspect before the public eye.”

Arthur stood up, smiling, and reached out to Priest Newman with a handshake, his eyes gleaming with the characteristic faint red of the Red Devil.

“Mr.

Newman, I’m very happy to have talked with you today.”

Newman also stood up in a daze, grasping Arthur’s hand.

“Mr.

Hastings, I also had a very enjoyable conversation today.

However, I might not come tomorrow, or the day after.

If I come again, perhaps next month?

No, no, maybe the month after?

I…

I must ponder deeply over the issues you’ve just mentioned.”

With a click,

Newman, as if in a trance, walked out of the office, absentmindedly closing the door behind him.

Agares watched him leave, muttering to himself, “What a madman.”

Arthur, holding a cup of tea, walked to the window.

He heard Agares’s remark and simply shook his head slightly.

“He’s not a madman.

He’s just like I once was, a poor man unable to find his place in the new tide of the era.”