We do not always occupy ourselves with science, and writers of a poetical temperament like to write on the more serious subjects, at the dictation of their heart and conscience only, especially when they speak to themselves alone, with no thought of others.
Renan, in his History of the People of Israel, writes: “In presence of the social problems of our days, and of the question: Has life a premeditated end and object? What is it? Is it for the good of humanity? Is it for the good of the individual?” The author replies: “The universe, whose last word we never learn, attains its end by an infinite variety of germs; if we are amongst those who deceive themselves and rebel against authority, that may not be attended by serious consequences ... let us be quiet; if we miss the mark others will hit it; that which Jahvah wills, will come to pass.”
Understand if you can.
Those who wish to adore, always find an object of adoration; Renan seeks his religion in the love of science and art; Comte thought to find it in a life devoted to the happiness of humanity. Is it not of these, and of men similar to them, that the most intellectual and clearest sighted of judges, the mythological god Krishna, spoke when he said, “All those who adore idols, adore me.”
Everywhere we encounter God and His power; either He triumphs over man, or man vainly seeks to triumph over Him.
I have noticed that Renan’s work, La Vie de Jésus, to which earnest-minded persons have a great objection, has been the means of consoling more than one sincere soul. Is it to be reckoned a good or an evil? Who shall take upon himself to say? Renan has certainly an attraction for certain readers, they do not succeed in finding out what he believes, but that is not to the point; generally he confines himself to troubling the water, it becomes muddy; in muddy waters fish are sometimes taken—we throw our lines—and—marvellous—each one draws out his favourite fish.
Père Gratry has nothing in common with Renan, except that both are poets. Plato having said that all but the wicked have their eternal types in God, Gratry was authorised in the conclusion he drew in his Logic that “nothing in us, neither sentiment, nor imagination, nor prayer, can go too far; all is more beautiful than that of which we dream; all is higher than we can believe possible.”
This language has displeased certain moralists, and they have not spared their censures on the theologian who used it. They have accused him of dreaming whilst dealing with religion, and they would have preferred that Gratry should occupy himself simply with literature. “Above all,” they say, “how is it that Gratry has ventured to write five long chapters on the probable site of immortality, and to inquire where men will live when there is no longer death.”
Why should we not be permitted to ask ourselves these questions, and to reply to them as we please? Are not theologians men like ourselves? Especially that theologian who said: “The time when religion will have acquired the characteristics of a science is yet far distant.”