A PARIS TALE, Pt 1
There was a very poor family living in the middle of Paris. The man could not get work no matter how hard he tried, which meant he could not feed his family.
One Sunday, his wife dressed as well as she could and went to church. This was no ordinary church, in fact it was the Notre Dame Cathedral, and she would not normally dare to enter such a magnificent place of worship as this but she was desperate. She sat in the rearmost pew and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible but the eagle-eyed bishop picked her out from all the hundreds of worshippers. He had a young priest, Father Michael, approach her after mass was over, and he directed her into a private room away from the crowd.
The bishop asked what troubled her and the woman poured out the sorry tale of how her husband could find no work and her children were starving. The bishop listened patiently. When the woman fell silent, he thought and then asked if her husband was willing to do any sort of work. Yes, yes! Was he a strong man? Very strong. Did he mind heights? Here the woman paused. Better to be honest, she thought, and confessed that her husband did, indeed, have a fear of heights. The bishop told her that if her husband would put aside his fear of heights and perform the task the bishop had for him he would have work for the rest of his life. If, on the following morning, her husband made himself known to the young priest who had approached her he would be put to work.
The woman ran home and told her husband all of this and they discussed it far into the night. The man decided that he owed it to his family to overcome his fear of heights and go to work at the cathedral. He arrived early the next morning and asked for Father Michael. The young priest told him to be brave and not to look down. Then, leading the way, they began to climb some stairs. After a long time, they arrived at what appeared to be the inside of a very high tower. This was reached by a circular set of stairs that was built onto the inside wall of the tower. Up, up, up they went. The man dared not look down and kept to the wall. Up, up, up, ever upwards. Several times they both paused to get their breath. Eventually, just when it appeared they would be climbing forever, they came to a very large platform built across the tower. There was a hole in the middle of the platform and, in the middle of the hole, hung the largest bell the man had ever seen. It was attached by huge ropes to an enormous beam. A man sat dangling his legs over the edge of the hole.
The priest introduced the two men and left them to discuss the job the man had to do. The stranger said he had been at this job for five years and was now leaving to take up other duties down below. “If you stick at it, you will have a life-time job with the church,” he said.
It appeared that what the man had to do was launch himself at the bell, get a foothold – there were plenty of protrusions to grab hold of – and begin swaying. This would cause the bell to sway and, once there was enough momentum, all he had to do was step off the bell onto the platform, and give the bell a push each time it swayed back toward him. At the slow count of one hundred, he was to cease pushing the bell, which could be heard over a large part of Paris, and was a signal for the faithful to attend mass.
All of this the stranger showed him by example, leaping onto the side of the bell, swaying and stepping onto the platform. It was then the man’s turn. He hesitated. “Come, come,” urged the stranger, “it is time for mass.” The man leapt outwards and grabbed onto the bell. He began swaying and soon the bell moved. “Step off when I say!” ordered the stranger. “Step off!” The man found to his amazement that his feet were on the platform and he was safe. He pushed the bell as it swung toward him. Again and again, he pushed. Then he made the fatal mistake of looking down through the hole to the floor way, way beneath them.
Vertigo hit him and, as he became dizzy, he forgot to duck the huge bell and it caught him in the face and he fell forward. Down, down, down, he plummetted and smashed on the ground. Father Michael pushed his way through the crowd of onlookers and knelt beside the man. How horrible, said everyone. But who is he?
“Don’t know his name,” muttered the shaken priest, “but his face rings a bell!”
