Les Miserables

presence of God; the
eternity of the future, strange mystery; the eternity of the past,
mystery yet more strange; all the infinities deep-hidden in every
direction about him; and, without essaying to comprehend the
incomprehensible, he saw it. He did not study God; he was dazzled by
the thought. He reflected upon these magnificent unions of atoms,
which give visible forms to Nature, revealing forces in establishing
them, creating individualities in unity, proportions in extension, the
innumerable in the infinite, and through light producing beauty. These
unions are forming and dissolving continually; thence life and death.
He would sit upon a wooden bench leaning against a broken trellis.
and look at the stars through the irregular outlines of his fruit
trees. This quarter of an acre of ground, so poorly cultivated, so
cumbered with shed and ruins, was dear to him, and satisfied him.
What was more needed by this old man who divided the leisure hours
of his life, where he had so little leisure, between gardening in
the day time, and contemplation at night? Was not this narrow
inclosure, with the sky for a background, enough to enable him to
adore God in his most beautiful as well as in his most sublime
works? Indeed, is not that all, and what more can be desired? A little
garden to walk, and immensity to reflect upon. At his feet something
to cultivate and gather; above his head something to study and
meditate upon; a few flowers on the earth, and all the stars in the
sky.

{FANTINE|BOOK_1ST|XIV
XIV
WHAT HE THOUGHT
-
A FINAL word.
As these details may, particularly in the times in which we live,
and to use an expression now in fashion,- give the Bishop of D__ a
certain "pantheistic" physiognomy, and give rise to the belief,
whether to his blame or to his praise, that he had one of those
personal philosophies peculiar to our age, which sometimes spring up
in solitary minds, and gather materials and grow until they replace
religion, we insist upon it that no one who knew Monseigneur
Bienvenu would have felt justified in any such idea. What
enlightened this man was the heart. His wisdom was formed from the
light that came thence.
He had no systems; but many deeds. Abstruse speculations are full of
headaches; nothing indicates that he would risk his mind in
mysticisms. The apostle may be bold, but the bishop should be timid.
He would probably have scrupled to sound too deeply certain
problems, reserved in some sort for great and terrible minds. There is
a sacred horror in the approaches to mysticism; sombre openings are
yawning there, but something tells you, as you near the brink- enter
not. Woe to him who does!
There are geniuses who, in the fathomless depths of abstraction
and pure speculation- situated, so to say, above all dogmas, present
their ideas to God. Their prayer audaciously offers a discussion.
Their worship is questioning. This is direct religion, full of