Ernest Renan . nch phrase, should examine this piercing, yetperfectly well-mannered, essay side by side withM. Taines on the same subject. In sentimentthere is little difference; in delicacy and point Re-nan has all the advantage of a supple genius,disporting Itself at ease. Taine is strong, satirical,somewhat forced; his blows are heavy as they aretelling. But, at the age of thirty-five, the quon-dam Sulpiclan has polished his instrument like aborn courtier; he knows Its powers and uses it asan enchanted sword, Irresistibly keen. In a moralaspect the sight is not pleasant, for Cousin hadlaid
Ernest Renan . nch phrase, should examine this piercing, yetperfectly well-mannered, essay side by side withM. Taines on the same subject. In sentimentthere is little difference; in delicacy and point Re-nan has all the advantage of a supple genius,disporting Itself at ease. Taine is strong, satirical,somewhat forced; his blows are heavy as they aretelling. But, at the age of thirty-five, the quon-dam Sulpiclan has polished his instrument like aborn courtier; he knows Its powers and uses it asan enchanted sword, Irresistibly keen. In a moralaspect the sight is not pleasant, for Cousin hadlaid him under a debt of gratitude. His excusemight be that he was criticizing the University,drawing attention to the barrenness of purelyFrench ideas. But why not choose another tar-get? In writing about Lamennais, his sympathy wasmore sincere; not that he admired Liberal Cathol-icism, which he reprobated in the name of , that suave and touching reminiscenceof the past; nor that he could away with democ-. i Xc 5,^ »N ^\. V- J \ 1 *• ^- ;^^ NS ? vC^. l - ^ 1 ~^Ct ?;: V ^ (~~^- ^ n ^ .^^^ ^ THE SCHOLAR IN PARIS 77 racy, or trusted in any fanatical movement; buthe understood his fellow-provincial. Lamennaisthought he did well to be angry; his eloquenthatred was a burning sombre flame; he shouldhave gone out from the Church by the royalroad of history and criticism, whereas he did butexchange an absolute creed for its opposite. Onegreat thing he had wrought, The Words of a Be-liever, which men might praise without reserve oncondition that they did not think of copying it. I never read those stirring pages, said Renan, without an impression of contagious magic ;their rude austerity, sudden tenderness, and lan-guor in the midst of an overmastering rage, wereabsolutely Breton. Yet a respectful irony wassomething better. Disdain, said the critic,almost always produces a delicate style; butanger is often in bad taste. Thus far the Epicu-rean who, yielding to a kindlier emo
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