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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/26726-0.txt b/26726-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b01aa1f --- /dev/null +++ b/26726-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6404 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Pascal, by John Tulloch, Edited by Mrs. +Oliphant + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Pascal + + +Author: John Tulloch + +Editor: Mrs. Oliphant + +Release Date: September 29, 2008 [eBook #26726] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PASCAL*** + + +This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler. + + + + + +PASCAL + + + BY + PRINCIPAL TULLOCH + + WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS + EDINBURGH AND LONDON + 1878.—REPRINT, 1882 + + _All Rights reserved_ + + + + +PREFATORY NOTE. + + +The translations in this volume are chiefly my own; but I have also taken +expressions and sentences freely from others—and especially from Dr +M’Crie, in his translation of the ‘Provincial Letters’—when they seemed +to convey well the sense of the original. It would be impossible to +distinguish in all cases between what is my own and what I have borrowed. +The ‘Provincial Letters’ have been translated at least four times into +English. The translation of Dr M’Crie, published in 1846, is the most +spirited. The ‘Pensées’ were translated by the Rev. Edward Craig, A.M. +Oxon., in 1825, following the French edition of 1819, which again +followed that of Bossut in 1779. A new translation, both of the +‘Letters’ and ‘Pensées,’ by George Pearce, Esq.—the latter after the +restored text of M. Faugère—appeared in 1849 and 1850. + + J. T. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + CHAP. PAGE + + INTRODUCTION 1 + + I. PASCAL’S FAMILY AND YOUTH 5 + + II. PASCAL’S SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERIES 25 + + III. PASCAL IN THE WORLD 52 + + IV. PORT ROYAL AND PASCAL’S LATER YEARS 74 + + V. THE ‘PROVINCIAL LETTERS’ 103 + + VI. THE ‘PENSÉES’ 157 + +INTRODUCTION. + + +There are few names which have become more classical in modern literature +than that of Blaise Pascal. There is hardly any name more famous at once +in literature, science, and religion. Cut off at the early age of +thirty-nine—the fatal age of genius—he had long before attained +pre-eminent distinction as a geometer and discoverer in physical science; +while the rumour of his genius as the author of the ‘Provincial Letters,’ +and as one of the chiefs of a notable school of religious thought, had +spread far and wide. His writings continue to be studied for the +perfection of their style and the vitality of their substance. As a +writer, he belongs to no school, and is admired simply for his greatness +by Encyclopedist and Romanticist, by Catholic and Protestant alike,—by +men like Voltaire and Condorcet and Sainte-Beuve, no less than by men +like Bossuet, Vinet, and Neander. His ‘Pensées’ have been carefully +restored, and re-edited with minute and loving faithfulness in our time +by editors of such opposite tastes and tendencies as M. Prosper Faugère, +M. Havet, and M. Victor Rochet. Cousin considered it one of the glories +of his long intellectual career that he had first led the way to the +remarkable restoration of Pascal’s remains. Of all the illustrious names +which group themselves around Port Royal, it is Pascal alone, and +Racine—who was more its pupil, but less its representative—whose genius +can be said to survive, and to invest it with an undying lustre. + +Pascal’s early death, the reserve of his friends under the assaults which +the ‘Provincial Letters’ provoked, and his very fame, as a writer, have +served in some degree to obscure his personality. To many a modern +reader he is little else than a great name. The man is hidden away +behind the author of the ‘Pensées,’ or the defender of Port Royal. Some +might even say that his writings are now more admired than studied. They +have been so long the subject of eulogy that their classical character is +taken for granted, and the reader of the present day is content to look +at them from a respectful distance rather than spontaneously study them +for himself. There may be some truth in this view. Pascal is certainly, +like many other great writers, far more widely known than he is +understood or appreciated. The old, which are still the common, editions +of the ‘Pensées,’ have also given a certain commonplace to his +reputation. It were certainly a worthy task to set him more clearly +before our age both as a man and as a writer. + +It is no easy task, however, to do this; and to tell the full story of +Pascal’s life is no longer possible. Its records, numerous as they are, +are incomplete; all fail more or less at an interesting point of his +career. They leave much unexplained; and the most familiar confidences +of his sisters and niece, who have preserved many interesting details +regarding him, have not entirely removed the veil from certain aspects of +his character. The well-known life by Madame Périer, his elder sister, +is of course the chief authentic source of his biography. It was written +shortly after his death, although not published for some time later; and +nothing can be more lively, graphic, and yet dignified, than its +portraiture of his youthful precocity, and, again, of the devotions and +austerities of his later years. But it leaves many gaps unsupplied. +Like other memoirs of the kind, it is written from a somewhat +conventional point of view. No one, as M. Havet says, was nearer to him +in all senses of the expression, or could have given a more true and +complete account of all the incidents in his life; but she was not only +his sister, but his enthusiastic friend and admirer, in whose eyes he was +at once a genius and a saint—a man of God, called to a great mission. It +was from a consciousness of this mission, and the full glory of his +religious fame, that she looked back upon all his life; and the lines in +which she draws it are coloured, in consequence, too gravely and +monotonously. Certain particulars she drops out of sight altogether. +These are to be found scattered here and there, sometimes in his own +letters, more frequently in the letters of his younger sister, +Jacqueline, and in a supplementary memoir, written by his niece, +Marguerite Périer, all of which have been carefully published in our +time, and made accessible to any reader. {3} The researches of M. +Cousin, M. Faugère, and M. Havet, the curious and interesting monograph +of M. Lélut, {4a} have thrown light on various points; while the copious +portraiture of Sainte-Beuve {4b} has given to the whole an animation and +a desultory charm which no English pen need strive to imitate. + +My only hope, as my aim, will be in this little volume to set before the +English reader perhaps a more full and connected account of the life and +writings of Pascal than has yet appeared in our language, freely availing +myself of all the sources I have indicated. And if long and loving +familiarity with a subject—an intimacy often renewed both with the +‘Provincial Letters’ and the ‘Pensées’—form any qualification for such a +task, I may be allowed to possess it. It is now nearly thirty years +since the study of Neander first drew me to the study of Pascal; and I +ventured, with the confidence of youth, to draw from the ‘Pensées,’ which +had then recently appeared in the new and admirable edition of M. +Faugère, the outlines of a Christian Philosophy. {4c} I shall venture on +no such ambition within the bounds of this volume; but I trust I may be +able to bring together the story of Pascal’s life, controversy, and +thought in such a manner as to lead others to the study of a writer truly +great in the imperishable grandeur and elevation of his ideas, no less +than in the exquisite finish and graces of his style. + + + + +CHAPTER I. +PASCAL’S FAMILY AND YOUTH. + + +Blaise Pascal was born at Clermont-Ferrand on the 19th June 1623. He +belonged to an old Auvergne family, Louis XI. having ennobled one of its +members for administrative services as early as 1478, although no use was +made of the title, at least in the seventeenth century. The family +cherished with more pride its ancient connection with the legal or +‘Parliamentary’ institutions of their country. {5} Pascal’s grandfather, +Martin Pascal, was treasurer of France; and his father, Étienne, after +completing his legal studies in Paris, acquired the position of Second +President of the Court of Aides at Clermont. In the year 1618 he married +Antoinette Begon, who became the mother of four children, of whom three +survived and became distinguished. Madame Pascal died in 1626 or 1628; +{6a} and two years afterwards (in 1630) Étienne Pascal abandoned his +professional duties, and came to Paris, in order that he might devote +himself to the education of his children. + +Soon after the Pascal family settled in Paris, their character and +endowments seem to have attracted a widespread interest. If not superior +to the Arnaulds, they were no less remarkable. They did not escape the +penetrating eye of Richelieu, who, as he looked upon the father with his +son, then fifteen years of age, and his two daughters, was so struck by +their beauty that he exclaimed, without waiting for their formal +introduction to him, that he _would like to make something great of +them_. {6b} Étienne Pascal was a man not only of official capacity, but +of keen intellectual instincts and aspirations. He shared eagerly in the +scientific enthusiasm of his time. A letter by him addressed to the +Jesuit Noël shows that the vein of satire, half pleasant, half severe, +which reached such perfection in the famous ‘Letters’ of his son, was not +unknown to the father. The careful and systematic education which he +gave to his son would alone have stamped him as a man of remarkable +intelligence. + +Gilberte, Pascal’s elder sister and biographer, exerted an influence upon +his character only second to that of his father. She married her cousin, +M. Périer, also of a Parliamentary family, and Counsellor of the Court of +Aides at Clermont. She was alike beautiful and accomplished, a student +of mathematics, philosophy, and history. {7} For a time she shared in +the enjoyments of the world, like other persons of her age and condition; +but the same impulses of religious enthusiasm which animated the rest of +her family led to her practical abandonment of the world while still +young. The memoirs which she composed, both of her brother and sister, +and her letters, all indicate a high intelligence and a mingled dignity, +sweetness, and restraint of character, which made her their best +counsellor and friend. + +The younger sister, Jacqueline, has been made a special study by M. +Cousin amongst the ‘Illustrious Women of the Seventeenth Century.’ She +was beautiful as her sister, and a child of genius like her brother. She +began to compose verses at the age of eight, and in her eleventh year +assisted in the composition and the acting of a comedy in five acts, +which was a subject of universal talk in Paris. Her powers, both as an +actor and a verse-maker, made a wonderful reputation at the time, which, +as we shall see, was highly serviceable to her after. Her verses, it +must be confessed, are somewhat artificial and hollow; but her letters, +and, more remarkable than either her verses or her letters, her +‘Thoughts’ on the ‘Mystery of the Death of Christ,’ are in some respects +very fine, and might even claim a place beside some of those of her +brother. They are equally elevated in tone, and pervaded by the same +subtle, penetrating, radiant mysticism, the same rapture of +self-sacrificing aspiration, though lacking the glow of inward fire and +exquisite charm of style which marked the author of the ‘Pensées.’ +Noble-minded and full of genius, she was yet without his depth and power +of feeling, or his skill and finish as an author. In 1646 she came, +along with her brother, and greatly through his influence, strongly under +the power of religion; and in 1652, after her father’s death, she +renounced the world, and became one of the Sisters of Port Royal. She +died amidst the persecution of the Sisters in 1661, a year before her +brother. + +In Paris the elder Pascal became a centre of men of congenial +intellectual tastes with himself, and his house a sort of rendezvous for +the mathematicians and the physicists of the time. Among them were +Descartes, Gassendi, Mersenne, Roberval, Carcavi, and Le Pailleur; and +from the frequent reunion of these men is said to have sprung the Academy +of Sciences founded in 1666. It is interesting to notice that it was +into this same society that Hobbes was introduced on his first and second +visits to France, when he accompanied the future Duke of Devonshire there +as tutor. With Father Mersenne and Gassendi especially he formed a warm +friendship, which sheds an interest over his life. Possibly in some of +these reunions the author of the ‘Leviathan’ may have encountered the +young Pascal, and joined in the half admiration and half incredulity +which his wonderful powers had begun to excite. + +There never certainly was a more singular story of youthful precocity +than that which Madame Périer has given of her brother, accustomed as we +have become to such stories in the lives of eminent men. Detecting the +remarkable powers of the boy, his father had formed very definite +resolutions as to his education. His chief maxim, Madame Périer says, +was always “to keep the boy above his work.” And for this reason he did +not wish him to learn Latin till he was twelve years of age, when he +might easily acquire it. In the meantime, he sought to give him a +general idea of grammar—of its rules, and the exceptions to which these +rules are liable—and so to fit him to take up the study of any language +with intelligence and facility. He endeavoured further to direct his +son’s attention to the more marked phenomena of nature, and such +explanations as he could give of them. But here the son’s perception +outstripped the father’s power of explanation. He wished “to know the +reason of everything;” and when his father’s statements did not appear to +him to give the reason, he was far from satisfied. + + “For he had always an admirable perspicacity in discerning what was + false; and it may be said that in everything and always truth was the + sole object of his mind. From his childhood he could only yield to + what seemed to him evidently true; and when others spoke of good + reasons, he tried to find them for himself. He never quitted a + subject until he had found some explanation which satisfied him.” + +Once, among other occasions, he was so interested in the fact that the +sound emitted by a plate lying on a table when struck, suddenly ceased on +the plate being touched by the hand, that he made an inquiry into sound +in general, and drew so many conclusions that he embodied them in a +“well-reasoned” treatise. At this time he was only twelve years of age. + +At the same age he gave still more astonishing evidence of his precocious +scientific capacities. His father, perceiving his strong scientific +bent, and desirous that he should first of all acquaint himself with +languages before the absorption of the severer, but more engrossing, +study seized him, had withdrawn from his sight all mathematical books, +and carefully avoided the subject in the presence of his son when his +friends were present. This, as might be expected, only quickened the +curiosity of the boy, who frequently begged his father to teach him +mathematics, and the father promised to do so as a reward when he knew +Latin and Greek, which he was then learning. Piqued by this resistance, +the boy asked one day, “What mathematical science was, and of what it +treated?” He was told that its aim was to make figures correctly, and to +find their right relations or proportions to one another. He began, says +his sister, to meditate during his play-hours on the information thus +communicated to him. + + “And being alone in a room where he was accustomed to amuse himself, + he took a piece of charcoal and drew figures upon the boards, trying, + for example, to make a circle perfectly round, a triangle of which + the sides and angles were equal, and similar figures. He succeeded + in his task, and then endeavoured to determine the proportion of the + figures, although so careful had his father been in hiding from him + all knowledge of the kind, that he did not even know the names of the + figures. He made names for himself, then definitions, then axioms, + and finally demonstrations; and in this way had pushed his researches + as far as the thirty-second proposition of the first book of Euclid.” + {10} + +At this point a ‘surprise’ visit of his father arrested him in his task, +although so absorbed was he in it, that he did not at first recognise his +father’s presence. The older Pascal, having satisfied himself of the +astonishing achievement which the youthful mathematician had worked out +for himself in solitude, ran with tears of joy to communicate the fact to +his friend M. le Pailleur. It was agreed betwixt them that such an +aptitude for science should no longer be balked, and the lad was +furnished with the means of pursuing his mathematical studies. Before he +had completed his sixteenth year he had written the famous treatise on +Conic Sections which excited the “mingled incredulity and astonishment” +of Descartes. {11} + +The happiness of Pascal’s home was suddenly interrupted by an unforeseen +calamity. On coming to Paris, his father had invested his savings in +bonds upon the Hotel de Ville. The Government, impoverished by wars and +extravagance, reduced the value of these revenues, with the result of +creating discontent and calling forth expostulation from the disappointed +annuitants. Some of them met together, and, among others, Étienne +Pascal, and gave such vent to their feelings as to alarm the Government. +Richelieu took summary means of asserting his authority and silencing the +disturbers. The meeting was denounced as seditious, and a warrant issued +to arrest the offenders and throw them into the Bastille. Étienne +Pascal, having become apprised of the hostile designs of the Cardinal, +contrived to conceal himself at first in Paris, and afterwards took +refuge in the solitude of his native district. His children were left +without his care, and plunged in the greatest sorrow. At intervals, +indeed, he contrived to see them in secret, and is said even to have +nursed Jacqueline through a severe attack of the smallpox, which impaired +her hitherto remarkable beauty. But all the pleasant companionship which +he had enjoyed as their instructor, and the centre of a group of +intellectual friends, was at an end. He could only visit his home by +stealth. + +At this crisis (February 1639) Richelieu took a fancy to have Scudéry’s +tragi-comedy of “L’Amour Tyrannique” acted before him by young girls. +The Court lady who undertook the management of the piece appealed to +Jacqueline Pascal, whose accomplishments as a girl-actor were well known, +to assist in its performance. She was then thirteen years of age. The +elder sister, who, in the enforced absence of the father, was acting as +the head of the family, replied, with feeling, that “they did not owe any +favour to M. le Cardinal, who had not acted kindly towards them.” The +request, however, was pressed, in the hope that some good might come out +of the affair to the family, and Jacqueline was allowed to appear. The +result was all that could be anticipated. The Cardinal, charmed by the +grace and accomplishment of her acting, received her cordially when she +ventured to approach him with a petition on behalf of her father, thrown +into a form of verses similar to many which she had already composed. +The verses have been preserved with her other pieces, and have been thus +rendered:—{12} + + “O marvel not, Armand, the great, the wise, + If I have failed to please thine ear, thine eyes; + My sorrowing spirit, torn by countless fears, + Each sound forbiddeth save the voice of tears. + With power to please thee wouldst thou me inspire?— + Recall from exile now my hapless sire.” + +She has herself described, in an interesting letter to her father, {13} +the whole incident, and the result of her intercession. Having told how +the Cardinal had been previously well prepared, and had the true state of +the case explained in reference to her father, who appears to have been +in no degree to blame in the agitation which called forth the displeasure +of the Government, she says that— + + “M. le Cardinal appeared to take great pleasure in the + representation, especially when I spoke. He laughed very much, as + did the whole company. When the comedy was finished, I descended + from the theatre with the design of speaking to Madame d’Aiguillon + [the same lady who had already interested herself in the business]. + But as the Cardinal seemed about to leave, I approached him directly, + and recited to him the verses I send you. He received them with + extraordinary affection and caresses more than you can imagine; for + at first, when I approached, he cried, ‘Voilà la petite Pascal!’ + Then he embraced me and kissed me, and while I said my verses he + continued to hold me in his arms, and kissed me each moment with + great satisfaction. And then when I was done he said, ‘Yes; I grant + to you all that you ask; write to your father that he may return with + safety.’ Thereupon Madame d’Aiguillon approached, and addressed the + Cardinal. ‘It is truly well, sir, that you do something for this + man. I have heard him spoken of as a thoroughly honest and learned + man, and it is a pity he should remain unemployed. Then he has a son + who is very learned in mathematics, although as yet only fifteen + years of age.’ The Cardinal assured me once more that I might tell + you to return in all safety; and as he seemed in such good humour, I + asked him further that you might be allowed yourself to pay your + thanks and respects to his Eminence. He said you would be welcome; + and then, with other discourse, repeated, ‘Tell your father, when he + returns, to come and see me.’ This he said three or four times. + After this, as Madame d’Aiguillon was going away, my sister went + forward to salute her. She received her with many caresses, and + inquired for our brother, whom she said she wished to see. It was + this that led to his introduction to the Duchess, who paid him many + compliments on his scientific attainments. We were then conducted to + a room, where we had a magnificent collation of dried sweetmeats, + fruits, lemonade, and such things. Here the Duchess renewed her + caresses in a manner you will hardly believe. In short, I cannot + tell how much honour I received, for I am obliged to write as + succinctly as possible. I am greatly obliged to M. de Moudroy for + all the trouble he has taken, and I beg you will be so good as write + to him by the first post to thank him, for he well deserves it. As + for me, I esteem myself extremely happy to have in any way assisted + in a result which must give you satisfaction.” + +This letter was written from Paris on the 4th April 1639, when Jacqueline +Pascal was therefore only fourteen years of age. It is in all respects a +remarkable and interesting production, both for the glimpse it gives of +the great Cardinal in his hours of ease, and its revelation of +Jacqueline’s own character,—her dramatic cleverness, her firmness and +wisdom in assailing the Cardinal with her prepared verses at the right +moment, her self-conscious importance as the chief actor of such a scene, +and all the same, her girlish enjoyment of the sweetmeats provided for +her. It is a pleasant enough picture; and it deserves especially to be +noticed how prominently the scientific reputation of her brother, only +two years older than herself, is already recognised. + +The sequel was all that could have been desired. The father hastened, at +the summons of his daughter, to pay his respects to Richelieu, who gave +him a welcome reception. “I know all your merit,” he said. “I restore +you to your children, and commend them to you. I desire to do something +considerable for you.” Within two years Étienne Pascal was, in +consequence, appointed Intendant of Rouen, where he settled with his +family in 1641. Disturbances had arisen in Normandy at this time in +connection with the payment of taxes, and the Government, believing that +the Parliament at Rouen had not acted with sufficient vigour, took the +matter into their own hands, and sent their officers to collect the +revenues of the province. {15} Étienne Pascal’s character and previous +labours in this capacity, no less than his restoration to the Cardinal’s +favour, pointed him out as a man specially fitted for this work, which in +the circumstances was not unattended with danger. The work in itself was +also harassing and troublesome; and the youthful Pascal, anxious to +assist his father, had busied himself in the invention of a machine for +performing arithmetical calculations, which made a great sensation at the +time. Ingenious as the machine was, it came to little, as we shall see +in the next chapter, which will be devoted to a brief account of Pascal’s +scientific discoveries. In the meantime it will be better to confine +ourselves to the thread of his personal history up to the important epoch +which is known as his first conversion. + +Settled at Rouen, he pursued his studies with unremitting devotion, and +with only too little regard for his health. His elder sister, who might +have won him occasionally to lighter pursuits, was married to her cousin +M. Périer in 1641, and two years afterwards went with him to Clermont, +where her husband was appointed a Counsellor in the Court of Aides. +Jacqueline was absorbed in her own poetical studies, which received a +special impetus from the friendship of Corneille, who had returned at +this time to his native town. The illustrious dramatist speedily sought +out the Pascal family, and became one of their most intimate associates. +A prize being given every year for the best copy of verses on the +“Conception of the Virgin,” it was awarded to certain verses of +Jacqueline’s for the year 1640. When the announcement of the result was +made she was absent, but a friend of the family rose and returned thanks +in verse in the name of the youthful poetess—_Pour une jeune muse +absente_. The friend was Corneille, whose impromptu lines on the +occasion, along with those of Jacqueline, are still preserved. {16} +Neither have much poetic merit, but they recall an interesting incident. + +A bright atmosphere of intellectual emulation and cheerful prospects +surrounds the family at this time. But all the while it is evident, from +Madame Périer’s account, that her brother was injuring his health greatly +in his undue assiduity in his scientific pursuits. The attempts to +perfect the construction of his arithmetical machine seem especially to +have worn out his delicate frame, and to have laid the foundation of the +nervous prostration from which he more or less suffered all his life +afterwards. “From the age of eighteen,” she says in a significant +passage that her brother “hardly ever passed a day without pain. In the +intermissions of his sufferings, however, his spirit was such that he was +constantly bent on some new discovery.” {17} + +In the beginning of 1646 an accident happened which had important +consequences both to Pascal and his sisters. Étienne Pascal fell upon +the ice and severely sprained his foot. During his confinement he was +attended by two brothers who had acquired repute in the treatment of such +injuries. They were gentlemen of family in the neighbourhood, who had +devoted themselves to medicine and anatomy from benevolent instincts and +the love of these studies. Both were disciples of a clergyman at +Rouville, who was an enthusiastic pietist and friend of St Cyran. Crowds +flocked to hear Pastor Guillebert whenever he preached, and many were +stirred by his eloquence to devote themselves to pious and +philanthropical labours. One of the brothers under this inspiring +guidance built a hospital at the end of his park, and gave his children +to the service of the Church in various capacities. The other brother, +who had no children, provided beds in the hospital and attended the sick +poor. + +The character and conversation of these men made a deep impression upon +the Pascal family. Hitherto esteemed pious, they had not yet made +religion an anxious concern in their lives. Madame Périer says expressly +of her brother that he had been “preserved by the special protection of +God from all youthful vices, and, what was still more remarkable in the +case of a mind of such strength and pride, he had never yielded to any +libertinism of thought, but had always limited his curiosity to natural +inquiries.” He attributed, according to her statement, this religious +sobriety of mind to the instructions and example of his father, who had a +great respect for religion, and who had impressed upon him from his +infancy the maxim, “that whatever is the object of faith cannot be the +object of reason, and still less the subject of it.” He had seen, in his +father, the combination of scientific attainment with a strong reasoning +power, and the maxim therefore fell with weight from his lips. And so, +when he listened to the discourses of free-thinkers, young as he was— + + “He remained unmoved by them, and simply looked upon them as men who + had adopted the false principle that the human reason is above + everything, and who know nothing of the real nature of faith; so that + this spirit, so great and inquisitive, which searched so carefully + for the reason of everything, was at the same time submissive as a + child to all the truths of religion, and this submissive simplicity + predominated in him through his whole life.” {18} + +This is a significant extract in more ways than one. In the meantime we +quote it as indicating the religious atmosphere of Pascal’s home, and the +pious temper which marked him from the first. But as yet religion had +not taken hold of him with an absorbing enthusiasm. It had its place in +his thoughts, and this a deeply respectful place; but now, about his +twenty-third year, in communication with the two friends we have +mentioned, and under the same influence which had moved them so deeply, +it began to lay hold of him more powerfully. He and his father and +sisters read eagerly the books of St Cyran, and of Jansen, the Bishop of +Ypres, whose name became so conspicuous in connection with Port Royal. A +discourse by the latter on “The Reformation of the Inward Man,” and also +Arnauld’s “Manual on Frequent Communion,” are supposed to have specially +impressed him. In the language of his sister— + + “Providence led him to the study of such pious writings while he was + not yet twenty-four years of age; and God so enlightened him by this + course of reading, that he came to realise that the Christian + religion obliges us to live only for God, and to have no other object + besides Him. So clear and necessary appeared this truth to him, that + he gave up for a time all his researches, renounced all other + knowledge, and applied himself alone to the ‘one thing needful’ + spoken of by our Lord.” + +This event is spoken of by Pascal’s biographers as his “first +conversion,” and it appears to have been attended not only with a zealous +consecration of his own powers to the service of religion, but moreover, +as often happens in the case of youthful enthusiasm, with a warm +determination against all who seemed to him to be acting at variance with +the true faith. “Although,” as his sister says, “he had made no special +study of scholastic theology, he was not ignorant of the judgments of the +Church against the heresies invented by human subtlety. All indications +of heretical opinion excited his indignation, and God gave him at this +time an opportunity of testifying his zeal on behalf of religion.” She +then adds in illustration the following story:— + + “There was at Rouen at this time a man who taught a new philosophy + which attracted the curious. My brother, pressed by two of his young + friends, accompanied them to hear this man; but they were greatly + surprised when they found, in conversation with him, that he drew + consequences from his philosophy at variance with the decisions of + the Church. He sought to prove by his arguments that the body of + Jesus Christ was not formed of the blood of the Holy Virgin, but of + some other matter specially created, and several other like subjects. + They pointed out to him his error, but he remained firm in his + opinions. Thereupon, taking into consideration how dangerous it was + to leave the instruction of youth in the hands of a man with such + erroneous opinions, they resolved, after previously informing him of + their intention, to denounce him if he continued in his errors. So + it happened; for he despised their advice, and in such a manner, as + to leave them no alternative but to denounce him to M. du Bellay, + {20} who was then discharging episcopal functions in the diocese of + Rouen for the Archbishop. M. du Bellay sent for the man, and having + interrogated him, was deceived by an equivocal confession of faith + which he wrote and subscribed. Otherwise he made little account of + the affair as reported by the three young men. However, when they + saw the confession of faith, they at once recognised its defects, and + entered into communication with the Archbishop himself, who, having + examined into the matter, saw its gravity, and sent in writing a + special order to M. du Bellay to make the man retract all the points + of which he was accused, and to receive nothing from him except by + communication of his accusers. The order was carried out, and the + result was that he appeared in the council of the Archbishop and + renounced all his errors—it may be said sincerely, for he never + showed any anger towards those who had engaged in the affair, so as + to lead one to suppose that he had been himself deceived by the false + conclusions which he had drawn from false principles. It was made + plain that his accusers had no design of injuring him, but only of + undeceiving him, and so preventing him from seducing the young, who + were incapable of distinguishing the true from the false in such + subtle questions.” + +This story reflects somewhat doubtfully on Pascal’s fairness and good +sense, even as told by Madame Périer. But it has not been left in the +vagueness in which it stands in her narrative. M. Cousin published for +the first time full details regarding it in the volume by which he may be +said to have initiated the new researches into the life and writings of +Pascal. These details, which fill more than forty pages of appendix to +M. Cousin’s volume, {21} are no longer of any interest in themselves; but +they enable us to understand more clearly the conduct of Pascal and his +two friends. Unhappily they deepen rather than lighten the shade which +the story throws upon Pascal’s intemperate zeal. The name of the accused +teacher was Jacques Forton, a Capucin monk, known as the Père St Ange. +He taught no new philosophy; but he had communicated to Pascal or his +friends, in private conversation specially desired by them, certain +theological opinions which he had espoused. These, as given in the +statement of the case signed by Pascal and his two friends, mainly +concern such abstruse subjects as the relation of reason and faith, and +the possibility of demonstrating the doctrine of the Trinity as the +source of all other knowledge. The curious question as to the +constitution of the body of Jesus occupies only a subordinate place. The +monk, as shown in the whole proceedings, was evidently more of a +speculative dreamer than a heretic—a man fond of disputation about +matters beyond his comprehension. It is mentioned by the three youthful +zealots, in the _récit_ bearing their signature, that as they were about +to part with him, “after the accustomed civilities,” he was careful to +let them know that he advanced the points in dispute, not as dogmas, but +merely as propositions or thoughts for discussion, the fruit of his own +reasonings. + +There is no reason to doubt that Pascal’s conduct on this occasion arose +entirely from honest zeal. He thought religion compromised by the +strange reasonings which he had heard. There is as little doubt, +however, that his zeal outran his discretion. He showed a determination +to pursue the matter amounting to persecution. The worthy priest had +evidently no intention of promulgating heresy; for he is glad, when +called upon, of an opportunity of proving his orthodoxy. With this view +he produced, side by side with the articles of accusation, passages from +a former volume of his which had been printed with official sanction. +Pascal still demurred, even with this evidence before him. A second +declaration was obtained from the priest, and the bishop refused to go +further. The sympathies of the community were evidently against the +youthful zealots; and finally Pascal’s father, convinced that enough had +been done to vindicate the truth, successfully interposed as mediator. +{23a} + +Pascal’s health about this period appears to have undergone a change for +the worse. He suffered from excessive headache and great internal heat +and pain. A singular characteristic of his malady was his inability to +swallow water unless it was heated, and even then only drop by drop. He +was the subject, also, of a remarkable paralytic seizure thus described +by his niece:— + + “He fell,” she says, “into a very extraordinary state, as the result + of his great application to his scientific studies; for the senses + (_les esprits_) having mounted strongly to the brain, he became in a + manner paralysed from the waist downwards. His legs and feet grew + cold as marble; and they were obliged every day to put on socks + soaked in brandy in order to try and restore heat in his feet. At + the same time the physician interdicted him from all study.” {23b} + +M. Lélut {23c} explains at length this attack of Pascal’s as a well-known +form of dynamical paralysis, of a similar nature with hypochondria and +hysteria, proceeding from a disordered state of the nervous affections, +the result of overwork acting upon a delicate organisation. The result +is temporary, as distinguished from the paralysis arising from organic +lesion, but indicates a highly susceptible constitution, the ready prey +of melancholy and imaginative exaggeration, to which, in M. Lélut’s +opinion, Pascal was more or less liable during the remaining years of his +life. + + + + +CHAPTER II. +PASCAL’S SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERIES. + + +Pascal’s scientific studies may be said to have begun with the remarkable +incident of his youth already related, when he elaborated for himself, in +a solitary chamber without books, thirty-two propositions of the first +book of Euclid. On the other hand, these studies may be said to have +extended to his closing years, when (in 1658 and 1659) he reverted to the +abstruser mathematics, and made the _cycloid_ a subject of special +thought. But his scientific labours were in the main concentrated in the +eight or ten years of his life which followed the removal of the family +to Rouen. It will be convenient, therefore, to notice these labours and +discoveries in a single chapter here, which will, at the same time, carry +on the main history of his life during these years. All that can be +expected from the present writer is a slight sketch of this part of the +subject, which indeed is all that would be interesting to the general +reader. + +At the age of sixteen Pascal had already acquired a scientific +reputation. He is spoken of by the Duchess d’Aiguillon, in the interview +with Richelieu in which she pleaded the cause of the exiled father, as +“very learned in mathematics;” and when his sister presented him after +the dramatic representation on that occasion, the Duchess gave him “great +commendation for his scientific attainments.” {26a} When allowed by his +father to pursue the natural bent of his genius, he made extraordinary +progress. He was still only twelve years of age, but Euclid’s Elements, +as soon as put into his hands, were mastered by him without any +explanation. By-and-by he began to take an active part in the scientific +discussions which took place at his father’s house; and his achievement +in Conic Sections has been already narrated. + +Descartes’s incredulity was not without reason; but there is no room to +doubt the fact. The little treatise, ‘Pour les Coniques,’ still +survives. It bears the date of 1640, and occupies only six pages. {26b} +After a very clear statement of his subject, the writer modestly +concludes:— + + “We have several other problems and theorems, and several + consequences deducible from the preceding; but the mistrust which I + have of my slight experience and capacity does not permit me to + advance more till my present effort has passed the examination of + able men who may oblige me by looking at it. Afterwards, if they + think it has sufficient merit to be continued, we shall endeavour to + push our studies as far as God will give the power to conduct them.” + +It is interesting to notice the beginning of relations betwixt Descartes +and Pascal, considering the jealousy that afterwards arose betwixt them. +There is something of this feeling from the first in the older +philosopher, who was now in the forty-fourth year of his age, and in the +full zenith of his great reputation. He appears to have been greatly +fascinated by Pascal’s peculiar powers; but the men were of too marked +individuality of character, and too divergent in intellectual sympathy +and personal aspiration, to appreciate each other fully. + +Pascal’s next achievement was the invention of an arithmetical machine, +chiefly prompted by a desire to assist his father in his official duties +at Rouen. He has given us no description of this machine from his own +pen. In the “Avis” addressed to all whose curiosity was excited by it, +he excuses himself from this task by the natural remark that such a +description would be useless without entering into a number of technical +details unintelligible to the general reader; and that an actual +inspection of it, combined with a brief _vivâ voce_ explanation, would be +far more satisfactory than any lengthened account in writing. There is +an elaborate description, however, of the machine, by Diderot, in the +first volume of the ‘Encyclopédie,’ which is reprinted in the collection +of Pascal’s scientific works. Pascal’s main difficulties occurred, not +in connection with the invention itself, which he seems to have very soon +perfected according to his own conception, but with the construction of +the instrument after he had mentally worked it out in all its details. +These difficulties proved so great, and so many imperfect specimens of +the instrument were made, that, in order to secure both his reputation +and his interest, he acquired in 1649 a special “privilége du Roi,” which +confined the manufacture of the machine to himself, and such workmen as +he should employ and sanction. All others, “of whatever quality and +condition,” were prohibited from “making it, or causing it to be made, or +selling it.” But neither these precautions nor the merits of the +invention itself, which were admitted by all competent judges, were of +avail to make the instrument a practical success. Many men of +mathematical and mechanical genius in different countries have applied +themselves to the same task. The celebrated Leibnitz is said to have +constructed a machine excelling Pascal’s in ingenuity and power. In our +own time, Mr Babbage’s wonderful achievement in the same direction +attracted wide attention, and has been lavishly eulogised by Sir David +Brewster and others:— + + “While all previous contrivances,” says Sir David, {28a} “performed + only particular arithmetical operations, under a sort of copartnery + between the man and the machine, the extraordinary invention of Mr + Babbage actually substitutes mechanism in the place of man. A + problem is given to the machine, and it solves it by computing a long + series of numbers following some given law. In this manner it + calculates astronomical, logarithmic, and navigation tables, as well + as tables of the powers and products of numbers. It can integrate, + too, innumerable equations of finite differences; and, in addition to + these functions, it does its work cheaply and quickly; _it corrects + whatever errors are accidentally committed_, _and it prints all its + calculations_.” + +Notwithstanding this brilliant picture, the great expense and the +complications involved in the construction of such an instrument have +seriously interfered with its success. It is said that Mr Babbage’s +machine, much more his marvellous analytic engine, have never yet been +properly constructed. {28b} + +Pascal fortunately turned his thoughts into a new and more fruitful +channel. We have now to contemplate him as one of an illustrious band +associated in a great discovery in physical science. Before his time +considerable progress had been made towards a knowledge of atmospheric +pressure. Galileo and his pupil Torricelli had both been busy with the +subject. To Pascal, however, remains the glory of carrying successfully +to a conclusion the suggestion of Torricelli, and of verifying the +results which he had indicated. Here, as in almost all such discoveries, +it is found that different minds have been actively pursuing the same or +similar lines of thought and observation, and controversy has arisen as +to the exact merits of each; but Pascal has himself so candidly explained +{29a} how far he was indebted to his great Italian predecessors, and how +far he made original experiments of his own, that both his relation to +them and his own work stand clearly apparent. + +It had been found by the engineers engaged in the construction of +fountains for Cosmo dei Medici in Florence that they could not raise +water in an ordinary pump more than thirty-two feet above the reservoir. +The water, having reached this height, would rise no higher. Galileo was +appealed to for a solution of the difficulty. {29b} Imbued with the +ancient notion that Nature abhors a vacuum, and that this was, as then +prevalently believed, the explanation of the water following the +elevation of the piston in the pump, the philosopher replied in effect +that there were limits to the action of this principle, and that Nature’s +abhorrence of a vacuum did not extend beyond thirty-two feet. He was +himself, it need hardly be said, dissatisfied with such a reply, and +accordingly he invited his pupil, Torricelli, to investigate the subject. +The latter very soon found that the weight of the water was concerned in +the result. He made experiments with a heavier fluid—mercury—and +ascertained that a column of mercury enclosed in a tube three feet in +length hermetically sealed at the lower end, and closed with the finger +at the top, on being inserted in a basin of the same liquid and the +finger withdrawn, stood at a height of about 28 inches in the basin. As +the specific gravities of water and mercury were in the ratio of 32 feet +and 28 inches, he was led to the conclusion that the water in the pump +and the mercury in the tube at these respective heights exerted the same +pressure on the same base, and that both were of course counterbalanced +by a determinate force. But what was this force? He had learned from +Galileo that the air was a heavy fluid, and he was carried, therefore, +directly to the further conclusion that the weight of the atmosphere was +the counteracting cause in both cases; in the one, pressing upon the +reservoir from which the water was drawn—and in the other, on the +surrounding mercury in the basin. He published his experiments and +researches in 1645, but dying soon afterwards, his conclusions remained +unverified. + +The fame of Torricelli’s experiments had reached Paris as early as 1644, +before their formal publication. Some one, Pascal says, had communicated +them to Father Mersenne—both a religious and scientific intimate, as we +have already seen, of the Pascal family. Mersenne had tried the +experiments for himself, at first without success, but soon with better +fortune, after he had been to Rome and had learned more fully about them. +“The news of these having reached Rouen in 1646, where I then was,” says +Pascal, {31} “I made the Italian experiment, founding on Mersenne’s +account, with great success. I repeated it several times, and in this +manner satisfying myself of its accuracy, I drew certain conclusions from +it, for the proof of which I made new and very different experiments in +presence of four or five hundred people of all sorts, and amongst others, +five or six Jesuit fathers of the College of Rouen.” When his +experiments became known in Paris, he adds, they were confounded with +those which had been made in Italy, and the result was that some +attributed to him a credit which was not his due, while others, “by a +contrary injustice,” were disposed to take away the credit of what he had +really done. + +It was with the view of placing the matter in a clear light, and +vindicating his own share in the train of experiments which had been +made, that he published in 1647 his “Nouvelles Expériences touchant le +Vide,” the first of his hydrostatical treatises. He was at pains to +explain the distinction betwixt his own experiments and those which had +been made in Italy; and not content with this, he added in express words, +in an “avis au lecteur,” that he “was not the inventor of the original +experiment, but that it had been made in Italy four years before.” So +little, indeed, did Pascal borrow directly from Torricelli, or seek to +appropriate the fruits of his researches, that he was as yet ignorant of +the explanation which the Italian had suggested of the phenomenon so +fully established. He saw, of course, that the old maxim of Nature +abhorring a vacuum had no solid foundation; but he tried to account for +the vacuum above the water and the mercury by such a supposition as the +following:— + + “That it contained no portion of either of these fluids, or of any + matter appreciable by the senses; that all bodies have a repugnance + to separate from a state of continuity, and admit a vacuum between + them; that this repugnance is not greater for a large vacuum than a + small one; that its measure is a column of water about 32 feet in + height, and that beyond this limit a great or small vacuum is formed + above the water with the same facility, provided that no foreign + obstacle interfere to prevent it.” + +Pascal’s treatise, while still retaining so much of the old traditional +physics, was made an object of lively attack by the Jesuit Rector of the +College of Paris, Stephen Noël. Pascal replied to him at first directly; +and then in answer to a second attack—and so far also in answer to a +treatise by the Jesuit, entitled “Le Plein du Vide,” published in 1648—he +made a more elaborate statement in a letter addressed to M. le Pailleur, +and in a further letter addressed to Father Noël in the same year. There +can hardly be any doubt that this was the commencement of Pascal’s +hostile relations with the Jesuits. On their part, they failed not to +remember in after years, and in a more serious struggle, that he was an +old enemy; whilst he on his part probably drew something of the +contemptuous scorn which he poured upon them from the recollection of +their obstinate ignorance in matters of science. + +Meanwhile, in defending himself from the attacks of ignorance, Pascal did +not fail to open his own mind to fuller scientific light. As soon as the +explanation of Torricelli was communicated to him, he accepted it without +hesitation, and resolved to carry out a further series of experiments +with the view of verifying this explanation, and of banishing for ever +the scholastic nonsense of Nature’s abhorrence of a vacuum. If the +weight of the air was really the cause which sustained the height of the +mercury in the Torricellian tube, he saw at once that this height would +vary at different elevations, according to the varying degree of +atmospheric pressure at these elevations. He proceeded accordingly to +test the result; but the higher levels around Rouen were too +insignificant to enable him to draw any decisive inference. Accordingly, +he communicated with his brother-in-law in Auvergne with the view of +having an adequate experiment made during an ascent of the Puy de Dôme, +which rises in the neighbourhood of Clermont to a height of about 3000 +feet. The state of his own health prevented him from conducting the +experiment personally, and M. Périer was detained by professional +avocations from undertaking it immediately. But at length, in September +1648, the experiment was carried out successfully, and the results +communicated to Pascal. I cannot do better than quote the account of +this important event as rendered by an eminent scientific authority, {33} +from M. Périer’s own recital of the facts in his letter to Pascal:— + + “On the morning of Saturday, the 19th September, the day fixed for + the interesting observation, the weather was unsettled; but about + five o’clock the summit of the Puy de Dôme began to appear through + the clouds, and Périer resolved to proceed with the experiment. The + leading characters in Clermont, whether ecclesiastics or laymen, had + taken a deep interest in the subject, and had requested Périer to + give them notice of his plans. He accordingly summoned his friends, + and at eight in the morning there assembled in the garden of the + Pères Minimes, about a league below the town, M. Bannier, of the + Pères Minimes; M. Mosnier, canon of the cathedral church; along with + MM. la Ville and Begon, counsellors of the Court of Aides, and M. la + Porte, doctor and professor of medicine in Clermont. These five + individuals were not only distinguished in their respective + professions, but also by their scientific acquirements; and M. Périer + expresses his delight at having been on this occasion associated with + them. M. Périer began the experiment by pouring into a vessel 16 lb. + of quicksilver, which he had rectified during the three preceding + days. He then took two glass tubes, four feet long, of the same + bore, and hermetically sealed at one end and open at the other; and + making the ordinary experiment of a vacuum with both, he found that + the mercury stood in each of them at the same level and at the height + of 26 inches 3½ lines. This experiment was repeated twice, with the + same result. One of these glass tubes, with the mercury standing in + it, was left under the care of M. Chastin, one of the Religious of + the House, who undertook to observe and mark any changes in it that + might take place during the day; and the party already named set out + with the other tube for the summit of the Puy de Dôme, about 500 + toises (a toise is about six feet in length) above their first + station. Before arriving there, they found that the mercury stood at + the height of 23 inches and 2 lines—no less than 3 inches and 1½ line + lower than it stood at the Minimes. The party were ‘struck with + admiration and astonishment at this result;’ and ‘so great was their + surprise that they resolved to repeat the experiment under various + forms.’ The glass tube, or the barometer, as we may call it, was + placed in various positions on the summit of ‘the mountain’—sometimes + in the small chapel which is there; sometimes in an exposed and + sometimes in a sheltered position; sometimes when the wind blew, and + sometimes when it was calm; sometimes in rain, and sometimes in a + fog: and under all these various influences, which fortunately took + place during the same day, the quicksilver stood at the same height + of 23 inches 2 lines. During their descent of the mountain they + repeated the experiment at _Lafon-de-l’Arbre_, an intermediate + station, nearer the Minimes than the summit of the Puy, ‘and they + found the mercury to stand at the height of 25 inches—a result with + which the party was greatly pleased,’ as indicating the relation + between the height of the mercury and the height of the station. + Upon reaching the Minimes, they found that the mercury had not + changed its height, notwithstanding the inconstancy of the weather, + which had been alternately clear, windy, rainy, and foggy. M. Périer + repeated the experiments with both the glass tubes, and found the + height of the mercury to be still 26 inches 3½ lines. On the + following morning M. de la Marc, priest of the Oratory, to whom M. + Périer had mentioned the preceding results, proposed to have the + experiment repeated at the top and bottom of the towers of Notre Dame + in Clermont. He accordingly yielded to his request, and found the + difference to be 2 lines. Upon comparing these observations, M. + Périer obtained the following results, showing the changes in the + altitude of the mercurial column corresponding to certain differences + of altitude of position:— + + Difference of altitude. Changes in the height of the mercury. + + Toises. Lines. + + 500 37½ + + 150 15½ + + 27 2½ + + 7 ½ + + When Pascal received these results, all the difficulties were + removed; and perceiving from the two last observations in the + preceding table that 20 toises, or about 120 feet, produce a change + of 2 lines, and 7 toises, or 42 feet, a change of ½ a line, he made + the observation at the top and bottom of the tower of St Jacques de + la Boucherie, which was about 24 or 25 toises, or about 150 feet + high, and he found a difference of more than 2 lines in the mercurial + column; and in a private house 90 steps high he found a difference of + ½ a line. . . . After this important experiment was made, Pascal + intimated to M. Périer that different states of the weather would + occasion differences in the barometer, according as it was cold, hot, + dry, or moist; and in order to put this opinion to the test of + experiment, M. Périer instituted a series of observations, which he + continued from the beginning of 1649 till March 1651. Corresponding + observations were made at the same time at Paris and at Stockholm by + the French ambassador, M. Chanut, and Descartes; and from these it + appeared that the mercury rises in weather which is cold, cloudy, and + damp, and falls when the weather is hot and dry, and during rain and + snow, but still with such irregularities that no general rule could + be established. At Clermont the difference between the highest and + the lowest state of the mercury was 1 inch 3½ lines; at Paris the + same; and at Stockholm 2 inches 2½ lines.” + +From the account here presented of these researches, there is no +difficulty in determining the exact credit due to Pascal on the one hand, +and his Italian predecessors on the other. He completed what they had +begun, and verified what they had indicated. As the Abbé Bossut has +expressed it, Galileo proved that air was a heavy fluid; Torricelli +conceived that its weight was the cause of the suspension of the water in +a pump and the mercury in a tube. Pascal demonstrated that this was the +fact. No one was more anxious than Pascal himself that Torricelli should +be acknowledged as the real discoverer of the principle which it was left +to him to establish by the test of experiment. He claimed, however, his +own definite share in the discovery, both as having carried on a series +of independent experiments, and as having converted what he himself calls +the “conjecture” of Torricelli into an established fact. It was painful +to him, therefore, to have this share denied, and even open accusations +made against him that he had appropriated, without acknowledgment, the +results of Torricelli’s researches. This accusation was made in certain +theses of philosophy maintained in the Jesuit College of Montferrand in +1651, and dedicated to Pascal’s own friend, M. de Ribeyre, first +president at the Court of Aides at Clermont. Pascal’s name was not +indeed mentioned in these theses; but there could be no doubt of the +allusion made to “certain persons loving novelty” who claimed to be the +inventors of a definite experiment of which Torricelli was the real +author. It was this accusation which drew from Pascal his letter to M. +Ribeyre, bearing the date of 12th July of the same year, in which he has +described, with admirable lucidity and temper, his relations to the whole +subject. In this letter he distinctly says that the Italian experiments +were known in France from the year 1644; that they were repeated in +France by several persons in several places during 1646; that he himself +had made, as we have already seen, definite experiments in 1647, and +published the results in the same year; and that he had then not +mentioned the name of Torricelli, because, while he knew that the +experiments were made in Italy four years before, he did not then know +that the experimenter was Torricelli; but that so soon as he learned this +fact—which he and his friends were so eager to know, that they sent a +special letter of inquiry to Rome—he was “ravished with the idea that the +experimenter was so illustrious a genius, whose mathematical writings, +already well known, surpassed those of all antiquity.” He says, in +conclusion, that it was only in the same year (1647), after the +publication of his own researches, that he learned “the very fine +thought” of Torricelli concerning the cause of all the effects which had +been attributed to the horror of a vacuum. But “as this was only a +conjecture as yet unverified,” he then, with the view of ascertaining the +truth or falsehood of it, conceived the plan of the experiments carried +out by M. Périer at the top and the foot of the Puy de Dôme. “It is +true, sir,” he adds, “and I say it boldly, that this series of +experiments was my own invention; and therefore I may say that the new +knowledge thus acquired is entirely due to me.” + +To this letter M. Ribeyre made a satisfactory and touching reply. He +expresses disapproval of the allusion of the Jesuit father, but as the +discourse was otherwise free from offence, he was willing to attribute it +to a “pardonable emulation among _savants_,” rather than to any intention +of assailing Pascal. He makes, in short, the best excuse he can for the +Jesuit, and hastens to assure Pascal that his reputation needed no +justification:— + + “Your candour and your sincerity are too well known to admit any + belief that you could do anything inconsistent with the virtuous + profession apparent in all your actions and manner. I honour and + revere your virtue more than your science; and as in both the one and + the other you equal the most famous of the age, do not think it + strange if, adding to the common esteem which all have of you, a + friendship contracted many years ago with your father, I subscribe + myself yours,” etc. + +But Pascal had to sustain suspicion and attack in a quarter more +formidable than that of the Jesuit fathers at Montferrand. We have +already spoken of the rather unhappy commencement of relations between +him and Descartes. Farther on we get a more pleasant glimpse of these +relations, in a letter from Jacqueline Pascal to Madame Périer, dated +25th September 1647, and apparently shortly after Pascal had retired to +Paris, along with his younger sister, leaving their father for some time +still at Rouen. This letter is so interesting, both in its bearing on +the question which arose between Descartes and Pascal, and in itself, as +giving the only account we have of personal intercourse between these two +illustrious men, that we present it almost entire:— + + “I have delayed writing to you,” Jacqueline says, addressing her + sister, {39a} “because I wished to tell to you at length of the + interview of M. Descartes and my brother, and I had no leisure + yesterday to say that on the evening of Sunday last M. Habert {39b} + came, accompanied by M. de Montigny, a gentleman of Brittany, with + the view of letting me know, in the absence of my brother, who was at + church, that M. Descartes, his compatriot and good friend, had + expressed a strong desire to see my brother, for the sake of the + great esteem in which both he and my father were everywhere held, and + that he begged to be allowed to wait upon him next day at nine + o’clock in the morning, if this would not inconvenience him, whom he + knew to be an invalid. When M. de Montigny proposed this, I felt + hindered from giving a definite answer, because I knew that my + brother was reluctant to force himself to conversation, especially in + the morning. Nevertheless, I did not think it right to refuse, so we + arranged that he should come at half-past ten next day. Along with + M. Habert and M. de Montigny there were also a young man in the dress + of a priest, whom I did not know, M. de Montigny’s son, and two or + three other young people. M. de Roberval, whom my brother had + informed of the intended visit, was also present. After some + civilities, talk fell upon the instrument [probably that which Pascal + had used in the experiments], which was very much admired, while M. + de Roberval showed it. Then they spoke of the idea of a vacuum; and + M. Descartes, on hearing of the experiments, and being asked what he + thought was within the tube (_dans la seringue_), said with great + seriousness that it was some subtle matter, to which my brother + replied what he could. M. Roberval, believing that my brother had + difficulty in speaking, took up the reply to M. Descartes with some + heat, yet with perfect civility. M. Descartes answered with some + harshness that he would talk to my brother as much as he wished, + because he spoke with reason, but not to any one who spoke with + prejudice. Thereupon, finding from his watch it was mid-day, he + rose, being engaged to dine at the Faubourg Saint Germain. M. + Roberval also rose, in such a way that M. Descartes conducted him to + a carriage, where the two were alone, and battled at one another more + strongly than playfully, as M. Roberval, who returned here after + dinner, told us. . . . I have forgotten to tell you that M. + Descartes, annoyed at seeing so little of my brother, promised to + return next day at eight o’clock. . . . He desired this, partly to + consult regarding my brother’s illness, as to which, however, he did + not communicate anything of importance, only he counselled him to + remain in bed every day as long as he could till he was tired, and to + take plenty of soup. They spoke of many other things, for he was + here till eleven o’clock, but I cannot tell you more particularly + what they said, as I was not present on this occasion. We were + prevented during the whole day from making him take his early bath. + He had found it give him a little headache, but that was because he + had taken it too late; and I believe the bleeding at the foot on + Sunday had done him good, for on Monday he conversed freely and + strongly all day—in the morning with M. Descartes, and after dinner + with M. de Roberval, with whom he argued for a long time on many + things, both belonging to theology and physics, and yet he took no + further harm than perspiring much, and slept rather sound during the + night.” + +The revelations of this letter are very curious. The respectful desire +of Descartes, already so distinguished, to make Pascal’s acquaintance, +and to enter into conversation with him; his resentment of Roberval’s +interference, and their earnest altercation, prolonged in the carriage +after leaving Pascal’s house; the evidently serious character of Pascal’s +maladies, and the watchful attention of his sister. It is clear through +all that Descartes had been busily occupied with the same physical +problems as Pascal, and that he was somewhat jealous of the results +towards which Pascal and his friends were tending. Evidently there was a +certain measure of unfriendliness between Roberval and Descartes. I am +unable, however, to see any traces of a coterie surrounding Pascal and +inimical to Descartes, as M. Cousin suggests. {41} If such a coterie +existed at this time in Paris, of which the “hasty and jealous Roberval” +was the centre, and which delighted in “abusing Descartes, and attacking +him on all sides,” Jacqueline’s frank and lively letter seems enough to +show that while Roberval was Pascal’s friend and Descartes’s disputant, +there was nothing in the meantime between Descartes and Pascal but +courteous friendliness and a cordial feeling of mutual respect. + +Descartes, however, in his retirement at Stockholm, plainly cherished the +impression that Roberval’s intimacy with Pascal prevented the latter from +doing full justice to his scientific position and suggestions; and having +as yet heard nothing, in June 1649, of the special results of Pascal’s +experiments on the Puy de Dôme in the preceding year, he wrote to his +friend Carcavi to let him know about these. + + “I pray you, let me know of the success of an experiment which Pascal + is said to have made on the mountains of Auvergne. . . . I had the + right to expect this of him rather than of you, because it was I who + advised him two years ago to make the experiment, and who assured him + that, although I had not made it, I had no doubt of its success. But + _as he is the friend of M. Roberval_, _who professes not to be mine_, + _I have some reason to think he follows the passions of his friend_.” + {42a} + +That letter was immediately communicated to Pascal by Carcavi, who was +his intimate associate no less than Roberval. But it seems to have +elicited no reply. Bossut {42b} says that he despised it. On the other +hand, Descartes’s biographer and eulogist, Baillet, blames Pascal for +having carefully kept out of view Descartes’s name in all the accounts of +his discoveries; and produces an array of passages from Descartes’s +letters, showing plainly that his mind was in the line of discovery +finally verified by the experiments in Auvergne. {43a} It may be granted +beyond doubt this was the case. It would ill become any admirer of +Pascal to detract from the glory of Descartes. But it must be held no +less firmly, that in the personal question raised by Descartes’s letter, +the balance of evidence is all in favour of Pascal. There are no +indications that the two men ever met save on the occasion so frankly +described by his sister Jacqueline. Before this Pascal had not only been +busy with the subject, but says distinctly that he had meditated the +experiment finally made on the Puy de Dôme from the time that he +published his first researches. {43b} It was not, indeed, till about six +weeks after Descartes’s visit, or on the 15th December 1647, that he +communicated with M. Périer regarding these experiments, and his earnest +desire that they should be made; and it was not till the following +September, or about a year after Descartes’s visit, that they were +actually made. But it is incredible that Pascal could have written as he +did if he had really, for the first time, been indebted to Descartes for +the suggestion. Descartes’s name is not mentioned in his correspondence +with M. Périer, nor in any of his writings on the subject; and the delay +in making the experiments is sufficiently explained by the facts stated +by himself, that they could only be made effectually at some place of +greater elevation than he could command—such as “Clermont, at the foot of +the Puy de Dôme”—and by some person, such as M. Périer, on whose +knowledge and accuracy he could rely. If we add to this the force of the +statement already quoted from his letter to M. Ribeyre, four years +afterwards, or in 1651, that he claimed the experiments as entirely “his +own invention,” and that he did so “boldly,” the case seems put beyond +all doubt—unless we are to suppose the author of the ‘Provincial Letters’ +and the ‘Thoughts’ capable of wilful suppression of the truth. On the +other hand, it is unnecessary to attribute to Descartes anything beyond a +mistaken opinion of the value of certain statements which he had no doubt +made to Pascal, and possibly some confusion of memory. And that this is +not an unwarranted view appears from what he says in a subsequent letter +to M. Carcavi, on the 17th August of the same year, 1649—that he was +greatly interested in hearing of the success of the experiments, having +two years before besought Pascal to make them, and assured him of +success—because the supposed explanation was one, he adds, “entirely +consistent with the principles of my philosophy, apart from which he +[Pascal], would not have thought of it, his own opinion being quite +contrary.” {44} This may or may not be true. Pascal certainly held as +long as he could to the old maxim of “Nature’s abhorrence of a vacuum.” +“I do not think it allowable,” he says in his letter to M. Périer, “to +depart lightly from maxims handed down to us by antiquity, unless +compelled by invincible proofs.” But the notions of Descartes on the +subject of a vacuum were at least as confused as those originally held by +Pascal. {45a} It is absurd, therefore, to suppose that the latter could +have been indebted to the principles of the Cartesian philosophy—not to +say that this is a very different suggestion from that of the former +letter, that Descartes himself had advised the experiment to be made. +Evidently the older philosopher wrote under vague and somewhat inflated +ideas of the value of his labours and his conversation with Pascal; while +the latter, again, absorbed in his own thoughts on the subject, and +unconscious that he had received any special impulse from Descartes or +his philosophy, naturally made no mention of his name. His silence when +Descartes’s accusation was communicated to him indicates the same +somewhat lofty reserve and confidence in the independence of his own +researches, rather than any contempt. He felt too sure of his position +to think of defending himself, or of repelling what he no doubt regarded +as not so much a deliberate assault on the value of his own work, as an +exaggerated estimate by the other of his share in that work. + +Pascal’s researches regarding atmospheric pressure conducted him +gradually to the examination of the general laws of the equilibrium of +fluids. {45b} It had been already determined that the pressure of a +fluid on its base is as the product of the base multiplied by the height +of the fluid, and that all fluids press equally on all sides of the +vessels enclosing them. But it still remained to determine exactly the +measure of the pressure, in order to deduce the general conditions of +equilibrium. With the view of ascertaining this, Pascal made two unequal +apertures in a vessel filled with fluid, and enclosed on all sides. He +then applied two pistons to these apertures, pressed by forces +proportional to the respective apertures, and the fluid remained _in +equilibrio_. “Having established this truth by two methods equally +ingenious and satisfactory, he deduced from it the different cases of the +equilibrium of fluids, and particularly with solid bodies, compressible +and incompressible, when either partly or wholly immersed in them.” + + “But the most remarkable part of his treatise on the ‘Equilibrium of + Fluids,’” continues Sir David Brewster, from whose exposition we + quote, {46a} “and one which of itself would have immortalised him, is + his application of the general principle to the construction of what + he calls the ‘mechanical machine for multiplying forces,’ {46b}—an + effect which, he says, may be produced to any extent we choose, as + one may by means of this machine raise a weight of any magnitude. + This new machine is the _Hydrostatic Press_, first introduced by our + celebrated countryman, Mr Bramah. + + “Pascal’s treatise on the weight of the whole mass of air forms the + basis of the modern science of Pneumatics. In order to prove that + the mass of air presses by its weight on all the bodies which it + surrounds, and also that it is elastic and compressible, a balloon + half filled with air was carried to the top of the Puy de Dôme. It + gradually inflated itself as it ascended, and when it reached the + summit it was quite full and swollen, as if fresh air had been blown + into it; or what is the same thing, it swelled in proportion as the + weight of the column of air which pressed upon it diminished. When + again brought down, it became more and more flaccid, and, when it + reached the bottom, it resumed its original condition. In the nine + chapters of which the treatise consists, he shows that all the + phenomena or effects hitherto ascribed to the horror of a vacuum, + arise from the weight of the mass of air; and after explaining the + variable pressure of the atmosphere in different localities, and in + its different states, and the rise of the water in pumps, he + calculates that the whole mass of air round our globe weighs + 8,983,889,440,000,000,000 French pounds. + + “Having thus completed his researches respecting elastic and + incompressible fluids, Pascal seems to have resumed with a fatal + enthusiasm his mathematical studies: but, unfortunately for science, + several of the works which he composed have been lost. Others, + however, have been preserved, which entitle him to a high rank + amongst the greatest mathematicians of the age. Of these, his + ‘Traité du Triangle Arithmétique,’ his ‘Tractatus de Numericis + Ordinibus,’ and his ‘Problemata de Cycloide,’ are the chief. By + means of the _Arithmetical Triangle_, an invention equally ingenious + and original, he succeeded in solving a number of theorems which it + would have been difficult to demonstrate in any other way, and in + finding the coefficients of different terms of a binomial raised to + an even and positive power. The same principles enabled him to lay + the foundation of the doctrine of probabilities, an important branch + of mathematical science, which Huyghens, a few years afterwards, + improved, and which the Marquis la Place and M. Poisson have so + greatly extended. These treatises, with the exception of that on the + Cycloid, were composed and printed in the year 1654, but were not + published till 1668, after the death of the author.” + +Pascal’s discoveries as to the cycloid belong to a later period of his +life, after he had long forsaken the scientific studies which engrossed +him at this time, and had become an inmate of Port Royal. But, as we +have already said, it is well to complete our view of his scientific +labours in a single chapter. + +During an access of severe toothache which, in 1658, deprived him of +sleep, his thoughts fastened on certain problems connected with the +cycloid. Fermat, Roberval, and Torricelli had all been occupied with the +subject, and made some definite progress in ascertaining its properties. +But much still remained to be done, and especially to resolve the +problems connected with it in a “general and uniform manner.” “Pascal,” +says Bossut, “devised within eight days, and in the midst of cruel +sufferings, a method which embraced all the problems—a method founded +upon the summation of certain series, of which he had given the elements +in his writings accompanying his ‘Traité du Triangle Arithmétique.’ From +this discovery there was only a step to that of the Differential and +Integral Calculus; and it may be confidently presumed that, if Pascal had +proceeded with his mathematical studies, he would have anticipated +Leibnitz and Newton in the glory of their great invention.” + +Having communicated the result of his geometrical meditation to the Duc +de Roannez and some of his other religious friends, they conceived the +design of making it subservient to the triumph of religion. Pascal +himself was an illustrious example that the highest mathematical genius +and the humblest Christian piety might be united; but in order to give +_éclat_ to such an example, his friends proposed to propound publicly the +questions solved by the great Port Royalist in his moments of suffering, +and to offer prizes for the best solutions given of them. This they did +in June 1658. A programme was published making the offer of prizes of +forty and twenty pistoles, for the best determination of the area and the +centre of gravity of any segment of the cycloid, and the dimensions and +centres of gravity of solids and half and quarter solids which the same +curve would generate by revolving round an abscissa and an ordinate. The +programme was put forth in the name of Amos Dettonville, the anagram of +Pascal’s assumed name as the writer of the ‘Provincial Letters.’ +Huyghens, Sluzsius, a canon of the Cathedral of Liège, and Wren, the +architect of St Paul’s, sent in partial solutions of the problems—those +of Wren especially attracting the interest of both Fermat and Roberval. +But Wallis, of Oxford, and Lallouère, a Jesuit of Toulouse, were the only +two competitors who treated all the problems proposed. It was held that +they had not completely succeeded in solving them; and Dettonville +published his own solution in an elaborate letter addressed to M. +Carcavi, and in a treatise on the subject. Carcavi was an old friend of +Pascal’s father as well as of himself; and being a lawyer as well as a +mathematician, the arrangement of the affair seems to have been intrusted +to him. This did not save him, however, from attacks by the disappointed +candidates, who accused him of unfairness; and Leibnitz has given his +decision that both Wallis and Lallouère, in the treatises which they +published,—which did not, however, appear till after Pascal’s,—had +succeeded in solving the problems. Upon such a point we cannot pretend +to judge; but it may be safely said that the design of the Duc de Roannez +was hardly realised in the issue. It was sufficiently proved, indeed, +that Pascal, in the midst of all his austerities and devotional +exercises, was the same Pascal who had held his own both with Descartes +and with the Jesuits. But the life of thought which survived in him no +sooner touched the outer world of intellectual ambition, than it flamed +forth into something of the passion of controversy which his pen had +already kindled in another direction. Religion is best vindicated, not +in the strifes of science, but by the beauty of its own activities. + +Pascal’s labours on the cycloid may be said to bring to a close his +scientific career. There is still one invention, however, of a very +practical kind, associated with the very last months of his life. +Amongst the letters of Madame Périer, there is one of date March 24, +1662, addressed to M. Arnauld de Pompone {50}—a nephew of the great +Arnauld—in which she gives a lively description of the success of an +experiment “dans l’affaire des carrosses.” The affair was nothing less +than the trial on certain routes in Paris of what is now known as an +“omnibus;” and the idea of such conveyances for the public—“carrosses à +cinq sols,” as they were called—is attributed to Pascal. It is certain +that the privilege of running “carrosses à cinq sols” was granted to +Pascal’s friend, the Duc de Roannez, and to other noblemen, by royal +patent, in January 1662,—and that the experiment, as described by Madame +Périer, was made with great success in the following March, and that +Pascal had an active interest in the undertaking. His sister tells that +he had mortgaged his share of its first year’s profits in order to +provide for the poor at Blois; {51} and a note from his own hand, +appended to his sister’s letter, shows with what eagerness he entered +into the affair and hailed its success. It is singular to connect the +name of Pascal, and that, too, during the last sad months of his life, +with so world-wide a commonplace as the omnibus. + + + + +CHAPTER III. +PASCAL IN THE WORLD. + + +Pascal’s health, we have seen, was very delicate. His labours to perfect +his arithmetical machine had seriously impaired it. The attack of +partial paralysis, described by his niece, seems to have taken place in +the early summer of 1647. As soon as he was able, he removed to Paris, +where we find him settled with his younger sister in September of the +same year. It was on the twenty-fifth of this month that Jacqueline +writes from Paris of Descartes’s memorable visits. One of the motives of +his change of residence was no doubt to consult the best physicians of +the day; and Descartes, who, amongst his other numerous gifts, had some +skill in medicine, made his second visit to him partly as a physician. +“He came in part,” says Jacqueline, “to consult as to my brother’s +illness.” He appears to have given him very sound advice, which, +unfortunately, Pascal did not follow—“to lie in bed as much as he could, +and take strong soup.” On the contrary, he was “bled, bathed, and +purged,” after the usual medical routine of the time, apparently without +any good effects, or any alleviation of his sufferings. + +The father also returned to Paris in May 1648. The Provincial +Parliament, with regained authority, had exacted the recall of the +Intendants appointed by the Court. Étienne Pascal’s services were +remunerated by the dignity of a Counsellor of State, and he was set at +liberty to rejoin his children. It was at this period that the struggle +took place betwixt father and daughter as to the latter’s determination +to choose a religious life. Encouraged by her brother after his access +of zeal at Rouen, Jacqueline was gradually more and more drawn towards +piety. After their settlement in Paris they went frequently together to +the Church of Port Royal de Paris, to listen to the sermons of M. +Singlin, whose touching pictures of the beauty and perfection of the +Christian life awoke in the youthful enthusiast the desire of entering +Port Royal. She opened personal communications with the sainted head of +the House, the Mère Angélique, and also with M. Singlin, who recognised +in her all the marks of a true vocation, but who would not allow her to +proceed further without her father’s consent and approval. The brother +at this time strongly sympathised with her aspirations, and favoured +them. On the father’s arrival in Paris, the design of his daughter was +imparted to him. He was greatly surprised and moved by the +proposition—pleased, on the one hand, by his daughter’s devotion, and yet +deeply wounded by the idea of parting with her. He took time for +consideration, and at length made up his mind that it was impossible to +give his consent. Not only so, but he strongly blamed his son, who had +broken the matter to him, for encouraging his sister’s design without +first ascertaining whether it would be agreeable to himself, and he seems +for the time to have felt so much distrust in them both, that he +instructed an old domestic, who had been with them from their youth, to +watch over their actions. This is the narrative of Madame Périer; {54a} +and the unpleasantness which arose out of this event appears also implied +in Jacqueline’s letter to her sister in the spring of the same year. +{54b} + +In 1649 the Pascal family left Paris for Auvergne, and seem to have +remained there for about a year and a half. Madame Périer says nothing +of this visit, so far as her brother is concerned, beyond the fact that +he accompanied Jacqueline and her father. The likelihood, however, is, +that the visit was in some degree prompted by a regard for Pascal’s +health. He had made in Paris some progress towards recovery, +notwithstanding the severity of his treatment. But he was still far from +well, and it was judged necessary, “in order to re-establish him +entirely, that he should abandon every sort of mental occupation, and +seek, as much as he could, opportunities of amusing himself.” Her +brother, she adds, was very reluctant to take this advice, “because he +saw its danger.” At length, however, he yielded, “considering himself +obliged to do all he could to restore his health, and because he thought +that trivial amusements could not harm him. So he set himself on the +world.” When this definite change in Pascal’s life began is left +uncertain, but there are indications that he had largely abandoned his +studies in 1649 and the following year. During these years there is +nothing from his pen. The interval between the “recital” of the +experiments on the Puy de Dôme (1648), and his letter to M. Ribeyre, 12th +July 1651, is blank in any record of scientific or literary labour. This +is not conclusive, of course, that he was idle; but taken in connection +with the remarks of his sister, and the retirement to Auvergne, it +suggests that the family may have sought there, in rural isolation and +domestic reunion, the means of entirely withdrawing Pascal from his +severer studies, and the scientific companions who were constantly +prompting them in Paris. It may be, also, that the father sought the +means of withdrawing Jacqueline from the neighbourhood of Port Royal, and +from the equally exciting associations to her connected with that +neighbourhood. + +Of Pascal’s life at this time in Auvergne we know nothing, or next to +nothing. There is, indeed, a single trace, of which the most has been +made, in the Memoirs of Fléchier, describing his stay at Clermont in 1665 +and 1666, a few years after Pascal’s death. In these Memoirs, Fléchier +relates an anecdote of a young lady “who was the Sappho of the country,” +and greatly beloved by all the _beaux esprits_ of the time. Amongst +others, “M. Pascal, who had then acquired so much reputation, and another +_savant_, were continually with this _belle savante_.” It is difficult +to know what to make of this vague if piquant anecdote. Some of Pascal’s +more religious admirers have even been scandalised by it, and have tried +to show that it could not refer to the author of the ‘Pensées.’ M. +Cousin and other parties have emphasised it too much. {55} There seems +no reason to doubt that the anecdote relates to the younger Pascal—it +cannot reasonably be supposed to relate to his father. Nor is there any +ground to suppose that Pascal was less likely to be interested in a +beautiful and accomplished _demoiselle_ than any other young man of his +age. On the contrary, there is some reason to think him at this time +peculiarly susceptible to the charms of female companionship. The +passing glimpse which the story gives of his occupations in Auvergne, and +the comparative brightness and leisure in which it seems to set his life +for a little, are pleasing. It suggests the idea that the change to the +country had worked successfully, and that with rest and retirement from +Paris his health had greatly benefited. + +It is a very different picture we get of the once brilliant Jacqueline. +If her father had cherished any hopes of restoring her again to the +world, he was destined to disappointment. With her conversion at Rouen, +and her association with M. Singlin and Port Royal, her old life seems +entirely to have died out. Even her old pleasure in making verses was +renounced at the bidding of Port Royal. She was told “that it was a +talent of which God would not take any account—it was necessary to bury +it,” and this although she only exerted it now in the service of religion +and the Church. While Madame Périer has given us no details, and, +indeed, no facts whatever, of her brother’s life at this time, she has +given us a minute picture of Jacqueline’s austerities. In everything +save in name she had already become a nun. She wore a dress approaching +as nearly as possible to a religious habit; she fasted and kept vigils; +she spent her whole time either in the house alone, absorbed in religious +ecstasy, or abroad in works of active charity; in every way she made it +plainly to be known that it was only her father’s wish that kept her in +the world at all. + +After a stay in Auvergne of seventeen months, the family returned to +Paris in November 1650. There we still read of the pious labours and +devotion of Jacqueline—little or nothing of her brother. How far the +leisure of country life may have weaned him from his old pursuits, how +far the world had begun to exercise a new attraction over him, we learn +nothing. It is evident from his letter to M. Périer on his father’s +death, nearly a year after this, that he still cherished strongly his +religious convictions. Yet there is nothing in all this time to tell of +his religious profession; and Madame Périer plainly does not care to +dwell upon it, but hurries forward to the later and more edifying period +of his career. The impression is left upon us that worldly distractions +had already begun to influence his life. + +These distractions rapidly acquired force after the father’s death in the +autumn of 1651 (September). The devoted Jacqueline attended his last +moments with assiduous tenderness; but no sooner was the event over than +she renewed her determination to enter Port Royal. The issue cannot be +so well described as in Madame Périer’s words:— + + “Being ill,” she says, “I was unable to leave Paris till the end of + November. In this interval, my brother, who was greatly afflicted, + and had received much consolation from my sister, imagined that her + affection would make her remain with him at least a year. . . . He + spoke to her on the subject, but in such a manner as to convey the + impression that she would not so far contradict him for fear of + redoubling his grief. This led her to dissemble her intention till + our arrival. Then she told me that her resolution was fixed to adopt + a religious life as soon as our respective shares [of the father’s + property] were arranged. She would, however, spare my brother by + leading him to suppose she only meditated a retreat! With this view, + she disposed of everything in my presence; our shares were settled on + the last day of December; and she fixed upon the 4th of January for + carrying out her decision. On the evening before, she begged me to + say something to my brother, that he might not be taken by surprise. + I did so with all the precaution I could; but although I hinted that + it was only a retreat, with the view of knowing something of the sort + of life, he did not fail to be deeply touched. He withdrew very sad + to his chamber without seeing my sister, who was then in a small + cabinet where she was accustomed to retire for prayer. She did not + come out till my brother had left, as she feared his look would go to + her heart. I told her for him what words of tenderness he had + spoken; and after that we both retired. Though I consented with all + my heart to what my sister was doing, because I thought it was for + her the highest good, the greatness of her resolution astonished and + occupied my mind so that I could not sleep all night. At seven + o’clock, when I saw that my sister was not up, I concluded that she + was no longer sleeping, and feared that she might be ill. + Accordingly, I went to her bed, where I found her still fast asleep. + The noise I made awoke her; she asked me what o’clock it was. I told + her; and having inquired how she was, and if she had slept well, she + said she was very well, and that she had slept excellently. So she + rose, dressed, and went away, doing this, as everything else, with a + tranquillity and equanimity inconceivable. We said no adieu for fear + of breaking down. I only turned aside when I saw her ready to go. + In this manner she quitted the world on the 4th January 1652, being + then exactly twenty-six years and three months old.” {58} + +Our readers will not grudge this extract, so touching in its simplicity. +What a living picture does it give us of this remarkable family!—the +elder sister’s wakeful anxiety—the younger’s calm determination—the +brother’s half-suppressed yet deeply-moved tenderness—the proud and +sensitive reserve of all the three. Jacqueline’s firmness was heroic, +but her heart was full of concern. She had escaped the +half-authoritative, half-supplicating entreaties of her brother, and +found refuge for her long-cherished solicitudes of heart in the bosom of +Port Royal, and the strong counsels both of the Mère Angélique and the +Mère Agnès. But after a while this did not satisfy her. When the time +came to make her profession, she was anxious to do so, not merely with +her own consent, but with her brother’s. And accordingly, she addressed +him in the following March a remarkable letter, in which, while reminding +him that she was her own mistress to do as she wished in a matter so +seriously affecting her life, she yet prayed him to give her a kindly +greeting in her solemn act, and to come to the ceremony of her taking the +vows. The letter breathes at once the affection of a sister and the +passion of a saint,—the proud firmness so characteristic of the family, +with a charming sweetness, blending entreaty with command. She signs +herself already “Sister of Sainte Euphémie,” the name which she adopted +as an inmate of Port Royal, addressing her brother for the most part with +the grave formal “you,” but now and then relapsing into the old familiar +“thou,” as if she were still in the family home. + + “Do not take that away,” she says, {59} “which you cannot give. If + it is true that the world has preserved some impressions of the + friendship which it showed for me when I was with it, please God this + should not turn me from quitting it, nor you from consenting to my + doing so. This ought rather to be my glory, and your joy, and that + of all my true friends, as showing the strength of my God, and that + it is not the world which quits me, but I that quit the world, and + that the effort which it makes to retain me is to be regarded as only + a visible punishment of the complacency with which I formerly + regarded it, and which it now pleases God to give me power to resist. + . . . Do not hinder those who do well; and do well yourself; or if + you have not the strength to follow me, at least do not hold me back. + Do not render me ungrateful to God for the grace which He has given + to one whom you love. . . . I wait this proof of your brotherly + friendship, and pray you to come to my divine betrothal, which will + take place, God helping, on Trinity Sunday. I wrote also to my + faithful one [her sister Gilberte]. I beg you to console her, if + there is need, and encourage her. It is only for the sake of form + that I ask you to be present at the ceremony; for I do not believe + you have any thought of failing me. Be assured that I must renounce + you if you do.” + +The result of this moving appeal was to bring her brother to her side. + + “He came the following day very much put out,” she says, “with a bad + headache, the result of my letter, yet also very much softened, for + instead of the two years which he had formerly insisted on, he wished + me merely to wait till All Saints’ Day. But seeing me firm not to + delay, yet willing to give him some further time to think over the + matter, he melted entirely, and expressed pity for the trouble which + had made me delay so long a result which I had so long and so + ardently desired. He did not return at the appointed time; but M. + d’Andilly, at my request, had the goodness to send for him on + Saturday, and undertook the matter with so much warmth, and yet + skill, that he consented to everything we wished.” {60} + +Jacqueline gained her point so far; but painful difficulties still +remained, the story of which she herself has also told us. {61} While +eager to be admitted to the full privileges of her vocation, she did not +wish to enter Port Royal empty-handed. She thought herself free to endow +it with the share of her father’s fortune which had fallen to her, and +seems not to have doubted her brother’s and sister’s concurrence in this +act of liberality. But they, on the contrary, were both for a time +deeply offended that she should apparently prefer strangers to her own +kindred. They took the matter “in an entirely secular manner.” This +greatly grieved her in turn; and, balked at once in her wishes and her +sisterly trust, she pictures in the most lively colours the distress she +endured. La Mère Agnès consoled her in her disappointment, and sought to +carry her thoughts beyond the mere chagrin which so obviously mingled +with her higher feeling. Her own somewhat resentful obstinacy gradually +yielded to the pure passivity of resignation—so strong in its seeming +weakness—which the sister of Arnauld preached to her. At length she is +content to make no further demands upon her brother. He and Madame +Périer shall do as they wish; the money would not be blessed unless it +came from free hearts, and was given for the love of God. She is willing +even to be received gratuitously as a sister—a feeling evidently not +without its bitterness. Her submission became, as may be guessed, her +triumph; a result probably not unforeseen by the deeper experience of La +Mère Agnès and M. Singlin. + +When her brother—“he who had most interest in the affair”—at last came to +see her, she endeavoured to meet him as the Mother advised. “But, with +all her effort” she could not hide the sadness of her heart. + + “This,” she says, “was so unlike my usual manner, that he perceived + it at once; and there was no need of an interpreter to explain the + cause, for though I put on the best face I could, he easily guessed + that it was his own conduct which was the cause of my uneasiness. + All the same, he was desirous of making the first complaint; and then + I learned that both he and my sister felt themselves much aggrieved + by what I had written. He dwelt on this, but could hardly go on, + seeing I made no complaint on my side. Otherwise, I could have + destroyed by a single word all his reasons!” + +A true family trait! The result of all was, that Pascal yielded to the +tender resignation of his sister what he had refused to her arguments. +He was so “touched,” she says, “with confusion, that he resolved to put +the whole affair in order,” and to undertake himself any risks or charges +that it might involve. + +But the heads of the House required to be satisfied, no less than +Jacqueline. They were not disposed to accept any gift which was not +freely and piously given. Accordingly, before the final disposition of +the property was made, La Mère Angélique took care that Pascal should +understand the matter anew from the Port-Royalist point of view. St +Cyran had taught them that they were never “to receive anything for the +house of God but that which came from God.” Even he was not a little +surprised, according to the statement of his sister, at all this +scrupulousness—“the manner in which we deal with such matters;” and the +men of business whose presence was necessary on the occasion are +represented as astonished beyond measure. “They had never seen business +done in such a way.” At length, however, all was completed. Pascal +professed the genuineness of his motives, and only regretted that it was +not in his power to do more. + +If this narrative mainly concerns Jacqueline Pascal, it serves to throw +light upon the character and life of her brother at this time. In the +course of her “relation,” Jacqueline, or her interlocutor La Mère Agnès, +makes frequent allusion to Pascal’s “worldly life.” When she is vexed +that he will not carry out her desires in the matter of the dowry, she is +reminded that she had far more reason to be distressed by the “faults and +infidelities” into which he had fallen towards God. {63a} He is +represented as being so much engrossed with the vanities and amusements +of the world as to prefer his own pleasure and advantage to the good of a +religious community or the pious gratification of his sister. It was +only by some miracle that it could be otherwise; and there was no reason +to “expect a miracle of grace in a person like him.” {63b} All the means +at his command were hardly sufficient to enable him to live in the world +“like others of his condition,” and the associates with whom he was known +to be mingling. {63c} + +Plainly at this time Pascal was abandoned by Port Royal. He had “set +himself,” as his sister briefly says, “on the world.” As his niece more +particularly indicates, {63d} he had given himself up to the amusements +of life. Unable to study, the love of leisure and of fashionable society +had gradually gained upon him. At first he was moderate in his worldly +enjoyments; but a taste for them insensibly sprang up and carried him far +away from his old associations and the pious severities of his former +life. After his father’s death this change was more clearly marked. He +was master of his own affairs, and he plunged more freely into the +pleasures of society, although always, it is distinctly said, “without +any vice or licentiousness.” All this, his niece adds, was very grievous +to her aunt Jacqueline, who grieved in spirit at seeing him who had been +the means of making her learn the nothingness of the world return to its +vanities. + +Too much is not to be made of such statements, or the still stronger +expressions of Jacqueline herself in her letters regarding her brother’s +final conversion. When she speaks of “wretched attachments” binding him +to the world, and of his being still “haunted by the smell of the mud +which he had embraced with such _empressement_,” {64} we are to remember +that she speaks not only out of the severity of her own youthful +judgment, (and what judgment is so severe at times as that of youth?) but +out of the mouth of Port Royal. She condemns a world which was no doubt +bad enough, but of which she knew nothing. Her allusions to the +“grandeur” of her brother’s life and similar indications have led +Sainte-Beuve and others to speak of his extravagance at this time. He is +supposed not only to have lived in the world, but to have lived in a +style above his means—the companion of men of higher social position than +himself, profuse in their habits and expenditure. That he lived in the +midst of society of this kind can hardly be doubted. It is more doubtful +how far his own habits had become those of an extravagant man of the +world. His chief companion was one who remained bound to him through all +the rest of his life, Pascal’s influence having drawn him also from the +world when the time of his own change came. This was the Duc de Roannez, +a young man of fewer years than himself, who seems to have possessed many +attractive qualities. He was devoted to Pascal—could hardly “bear him +out of his sight,” as Marguerite Périer says—and Pascal warmly returned +his friendship. It seems as if they had lived together a good deal, or +at least that Pascal spent the most of his time with the young Duke; and +it was in his house and society no doubt that he tasted the joys and +perils of that fashionable and luxurious life of which his sister speaks +so bitterly. {65a} It was a life, after all, of thoughtless enjoyment +rather than of any deeper folly. Both men were as yet very young—the +Duke only twenty-two years of age, and Pascal twenty-eight. After his +simple and severe training, and the society of his Jansenist friends, it +must have been a change full of excitement, possibly of moral danger, to +the once enthusiastic student; for the society of the time was charged +with the elements both of sceptical and moral indifference. It has been +even said that “no society was ever more grandly dissolute” than that of +the Fronde, “when women like La Barette {65b} and La Couronne took the +lead in the least discreet pleasures.” + +Among the men whom Pascal evidently met at the hotel of the Duc de +Roannez, and with whom he formed something of a friendship, was the +well-known Chevalier de Méré, whom we know best as a tutor of Madame de +Maintenon, and whose graceful but flippant letters still survive as a +picture of the time. He was a gambler and libertine, yet with some +tincture of science and professed interest in its progress. In his +correspondence there is a letter to Pascal, in which he makes free in a +somewhat ridiculous manner with the young geometrician already so +distinguished. Other names still less reputable—those of Miton and +Desbarreaux, for example—have been associated with Pascal during this +period. Miton was undoubtedly an intimate ally of De Méré, and amidst +all his dissoluteness, made pretensions to scientific knowledge and +attainments as a writer. Desbarreaux was a companion of both, but of a +still lower grade—a man of open profligacy, and a despiser of the rites +of the Church. Along with Miton and other boon companions, he is spoken +of as betaking himself to St Cloud for carnival during the Holy Week. +{66} The truth would seem to be that all these men came across Pascal’s +path at this time, and were more or less known to him. His allusions to +both Miton and Desbarreaux in the Pensées imply this. There is a certain +familiarity of knowledge indicated in the very heartiness with which he +assails them—speaking of Miton as “hateful,” {67a} and of Desbarreaux as +having renounced reason and made himself a “brute.” {67b} But it is +against all probability, no less than against all the facts known to us, +to suppose that Pascal had more connection with such men than meeting +them in the society in which he moved during these years, and becoming +well acquainted with the intellectual and moral atmosphere which they +breathed. It may be too much to say, with Faugère, that he was then +consciously imbibing the experience to be afterwards utilised in his +great work, or that it was the principles professed by these men which +gave him the first idea of such a work; but we may certainly say that the +knowledge of them, as well as all the knowledge he acquired at this time, +served to deepen and extend his moral intuitions, and to give a finer +point to many of his Thoughts. And no student of Pascal can doubt that +“if his feet touched for a moment the dirt of this dissolute society, his +divine wings remained unsoiled.” {67c} + +A more interesting point than any, however, still remains in connection +with this period of his life. It was now, or soon after, that Pascal +must have composed the “Discours sur les Passions de l’Amour,” one of the +most exquisite fragments which have come from his pen,—remarkable both in +itself and in the circumstances of its discovery by M. Cousin about +thirty years ago. M. Cousin has himself related these circumstances in +minute detail, and with a certain self-elation. {67d} According to M. +Faugère, there was no particular difficulty, and therefore no particular +merit, in the discovery. The fragment was clearly indexed in a catalogue +of the Pascal MSS. in the well-known State library of Paris as follows: +“Discours sur les Passions de l’Amour, par M. Pascal,” and again in the +body of the volume the fragment was entitled, “Discours, etc., on +l’attribue à M. Pascal.” The genuineness of the fragment seems admitted +on all hands. “In the first line,” says Cousin, “I felt Pascal, and my +conviction of its authorship grew as I proceeded—his ardent and lofty +manner, half thought, half passion, and that speech so fine and grand, an +accent which I would recognise amongst a thousand.” {68a} “The soul and +thought of Pascal,” says Faugère, “shine everywhere in the pages, steeped +in a melancholy at once chaste and ardent.” {68b} + +The following extracts may give some idea of this remarkable paper. It +commences in an abstract, aphoristic manner not uncommon with Pascal:— + + “Man is born to think; he is never a moment without thinking. But + pure thought, which, if it could be sustained, would make him happy, + fatigues and prostrates him. He could not live a life of mere + thought; movement and action are necessary to him. He must be + agitated by the passions, whose sources he feels deep and strong in + his heart. The passions most characteristic of man, and which + embrace most others, are love and ambition. They have no affinity, + yet they are often united; together, they tend to weaken if not + destroy each other. For however grand the human spirit, it is only + capable at once of one great passion. When love and ambition meet, + each therefore falls short of what it would otherwise be. Age + determines neither the beginning nor the end of these two passions. + They are born with the first years, they continue often to the last.” + + “Man finds no full scope for love in himself, yet he loves. It is + necessary, therefore, for him to seek an object of love elsewhere. + This he can only find in beauty. But as he himself is the most + beautiful creature that God has made, he must find in himself the + type of that beauty which he seeks elsewhere. This defines and + embodies itself in the difference of sex. A woman is the highest + form of beauty. Endowed with mind, she is its living and marvellous + personation. If a beautiful woman wishes to please, she will always + succeed. The fascinations of beauty in such a case never fail to + captivate, whatever man may do to resist them. There is a spot in + every heart which they reach.” + + “Love is of no age; it is always being born. The poets tell us so, + and hence we represent it as a child. It creates intelligence, and + feeds upon intelligence. . . . We exhaust our power of gratifying it + every day, and yet every day it is necessary to renew its + gratification.” + + “Man in solitude is an incomplete being; he needs companionship for + happiness. He seeks this commonly in a like condition with his own, + because habits of desire and opportunity in such a case are most + readily found by him. But _sometimes he fixes his affections on an + object far beyond his rank_, and the flame burns the more intensely + that he is forced to conceal it in his own bosom. When we love one + of elevated condition, ambition may at first coexist with affection. + But love soon becomes the master. It is a tyrant which suffers no + rival; it must reign alone. Every other emotion must subserve and + obey its dictates. A high attachment fills the heart more completely + than a common and equal one. Small things are carried away in the + great capacity of love.” + + “The pleasure of loving, without daring to say anything of one’s + love, has its pains, but also its sweetnesses. With what transport + do we regulate all our actions with the view of pleasing one whom we + infinitely value! . . . The fulness of love sometimes languishes, + receiving no succour from the beloved object. Then we fall into + misery; and hostile passions, lying in wait for the heart, tear it in + a thousand pieces. But anon a ray of hope—the very least it may + be—raises us as high as ever. Sometimes this comes from mere + dalliance, but sometimes also from an honest pity. How happy such a + moment when it comes!” + + “The first effect of love is to inspire a great respect. We revere + whom we really love. This is right, and we know nothing in the world + so grand as this. . . . In love we forget fortune, parents, friends, + and the reason of this is that we imagine we need nothing else than + the object of our love. The heart is full; there is no room for care + nor disquietude. Passion is then necessarily in excess; there is a + plenitude in it which resists the commencement of reflection. Yet + love and reason are not to be opposed, and love has always reason + with it, although it implies a precipitation of thought which carries + us away without due examination. Otherwise we should be very + disagreeable machines. Do not exclude reason from love, therefore; + they are truly inseparable. The poets are wrong in representing love + as blind. It is necessary to take away his veil, and give him + henceforth the joy of sight.” + + “It is not merely the result of custom, but a dictate of nature, that + man should make the first advances in love. . . . Great souls + require an inundation of passion to disturb and fill them; but when + they begin to love, they love supremely. . . . When we are away from + the object of our love we resolve to do and say many things, but when + we are present we hesitate. The explanation is, that at a distance + the reason is undisturbed, but in presence of the beloved object it + is strangely moved. In love we fear to hazard lest we lose all. It + is necessary to advance, yet who can tell to what point? We tremble + always till we reach this point, and yet prudence does not help us to + keep it when we have found it. . . . There is nothing so + embarrassing as to be in love, and see something in our favour + without daring to believe in it. Hope and fear rage within us, and + the last too often triumphs.” + +The question arises, What interpretation are we to put on these chaste +yet glowing sentences? It seems hardly possible to believe that they +were not penned out of some real experience. Pascal was not the man to +busy himself in writing an imaginary essay on such a subject. Nothing +can be conceived less like the sketch of a mere moral analyst standing +outside the passion he describes. There may be a tendency here and there +to over-analysis, and to the balancing of antitheses now on one side and +now on the other; but there is the breath of true passion all through the +piece, and touching, as with fire, many of its many fine utterances. Who +was then, conceivably, the object of Pascal’s affections? We have it on +the authority of his niece that at this time, when he lived so much as +the companion of the Duc de Roannez, he contemplated marrying and +settling in the world. {71} This, and the indications of the piece +itself, have led to the conjecture that he was in love with the sister of +his friend. Charlotte Gouffier de Roannez was then about sixteen years +of age, endowed with captivating graces of form and manner, animated by a +sweet intelligence and by that charm of spiritual sympathy so likely to +prove attractive to a man like Pascal. Occupying rooms in the house of +his friend, who, we have seen, could not bear him out of his sight, +Pascal and Mademoiselle de Roannez were necessarily much in each other’s +society. What so natural as that he should fall in love, and overlooking +all disparity of rank, cherish the secret hope of a union with one so +gifted and beautiful?—or why may not ambition have mingled with his love, +as he himself implies, and carried him for a time into a dreamland from +which all shadows fell away? + +It is impossible to do more than form conjectures in such a matter. To +M. Faugère nothing seems more probable. M. Cousin resents the +supposition as derogatory to Pascal, and as utterly inconsistent with the +usages of the age of Louis XIV. But even were it impossible, according +to the usages of the time, that Pascal should have ever married +Mademoiselle de Roannez, this is no proof that he may not have fallen in +love with her. There is much in this paper that favours the idea, that +while Pascal loved deeply he yet never told his love; and the social +obstacles, which for a time may have seemed to him surmountable, at last +may have shut out all hope from his heart. Many causes might unite to do +this, even supposing his love was returned. It is certain that he +continued the warm friend, not only of the Duc de Roannez, but of his +sister; and in after-years a correspondence was established betwixt them +implying the highest degree of mutual esteem and confidence. We have +only the letters of Pascal; nothing is known of those of Mademoiselle de +Roannez; the rigidity of the Jansenist copyists have given us only +extracts even of the former. All trace of earthly passion, if it ever +existed, has gone from the pious page in which the Jansenist saint sets +forth his exhortations. Yet it argues no common interest, that Pascal +should pause in the midst of his conflict with the Jesuits to advise and +direct his former companion; and Faugère professes that even before he +had read the ‘Discours’ he could trace a “tender solicitude”—more than +the mere impulse of Christian charity—beneath all the grave severity of +his religious phrases. + +The fate of Mademoiselle de Roannez was not a happy one. After +vacillating for some time between the cloister and the world—obeying the +guidance of Pascal, either directly or through Madame Périer, and even +passing through her novitiate at Port Royal with “extraordinary +fervour”—she was persuaded to marry and become the Duchesse de la +Feuillade. But her marriage proved unfortunate. Her children died +young; her own health broke down; she herself at length died under an +operation, bequeathing a legacy to Port Royal, which had remained +entwined with all dearest associations. Whether Pascal and she had loved +each other or not, this sacred Home bound their best thoughts together, +and serves to recall their highest aspirations. + +It falls to us now to describe how Port Royal claimed the heart of +Pascal, and called forth the chief activities of his remaining years. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. +PORT ROYAL AND PASCAL’S LATER YEARS. + + +Whatever day-dreams Pascal may have cherished, “God called him,” as his +sister says, “to a great perfection.” It was not in his nature to be +satisfied with either the enchantments or the ambitions of the world. +All the while that he mixed in the luxurious society of Paris, and seemed +merely one of its thoughtless throng, there were throbs within him of a +higher life which could not be stilled. His conscience reproached him +continually amidst all his amusements, and left him uneasy even in the +most exulting moments of the love that filled his heart. This is no +hypothetical picture, but one suggested by himself in conversation with +his sister. She tells us from her retreat how her brother came to see +her, fascinated by the steadfastness of her faith, in contrast with his +own indifference and vacillation. Formerly it was his zeal which had +drawn her to higher thoughts. Now it is the attraction of her piety +which sways him, and leaves him unhappy amidst all the seductions of the +society in which he mingles. “God made use of my sister,” says Madame +Périer, “for the great design, as He had formerly made use of my brother, +when He desired to withdraw my sister from her engagements in the world.” + +The severe Jacqueline tells with unfaltering breath the story of her +brother’s spiritual anxieties. She had ceased herself to have any +worldly thoughts. + + “She led,” says Madame Périer, “a life so holy, that she edified the + whole house: and in this state it was a special pain to her to see + one to whom she felt herself indebted, under God, for the grace which + she enjoyed, no longer himself in possession of these graces: and as + she saw my brother frequently, she spoke to him often, and finally + with such force and sweetness, that she persuaded him, as he had at + first persuaded her, absolutely to abandon the world.” + +Writing to her sister on the 25th of January 1655, she says that Pascal +came to see her at the end of the previous September. + + “At this visit he opened himself to me in such a manner as moved my + pity, confessing that in the midst of his exciting occupations, and + of so many things fitted to make him love the world—to which we had + every reason to think him strongly attached—he was yet forcibly moved + to quit all; both by an extreme aversion to its follies and + amusements, and by the continual reproach made by his conscience. He + felt himself detached from his surroundings in such a manner as he + had never felt before, or even approaching to it; yet, otherwise, he + was in such abandonment that there was no movement in his heart to + God. Though he sought Him with all his power, he felt that it was + more his own reason and spirit that moved him towards what he knew to + be best, than any movement of the Divine Spirit. If he only had the + Divine sentiments he once had, he believed himself, in his present + state of detachment, capable of undertaking everything. It must be, + therefore, some wretched ties {76} which still held him back, and + made him resist the movements of the Divine Spirit. The confession + surprised me as much as it gave me joy; and thenceforth I conceived + hopes that I had never had, and thought I must communicate with you + in order to induce you to pray on his behalf. If I were to relate + all the other visits in detail, I should be obliged to write a + volume; for since then they have been so frequent and so long, that I + was wellnigh engrossed by them. I confined myself to watching his + mood without attempting unduly to influence him; and gradually I saw + him so growing in grace that I would hardly have known him. I + believe you will have the same difficulty, if God continues His work; + especially in such wonderful humility, submission, diffidence, + self-contempt, and desire to be nothing in the esteem and memory of + men. Such he is at present. God alone knows what a day will bring + forth.” + +Finally, after many visits and struggles with himself, especially as to +his choice of a spiritual guide, he became an inmate of Port Royal des +Granges, under the guidance of M. de Saci. The questions betwixt him and +his sister as to his selection of a confessor or director are very +curious, revealing, as they do, the quiet self-possessed decision of the +one, the scruples of the other, and the proud self-respect of both. As +to one of Pascal’s difficulties, she says, without misgiving—“I saw +clearly that this was only a remnant of independence hidden in the depth +of his heart, which armed itself with every weapon to ward off a +submission which yet in his state of feeling must be perfect.” M. +Singlin was willing to assist the sister with his advice, but was +reluctant himself, in his weak state of health, to assume full +responsibilities towards the brother. Jacqueline herself appeared to him +the best director her brother could have for the time; and there is a +charming blending of humility and yet assumption in the manner in which +she relates this, and speaks of “our new convert.” But finally there is +found in M. de Saci a director “with whom he is delighted, for he comes +of a good stock” (dont it est tout ravi, aussi est-il de bonne race). + +Pascal first sought retirement in a residence of his own in the country. +It is particularly mentioned amongst the reasons for his withdrawal from +Paris, that the Duc de Roannez, “who engaged him almost entirely,” was +about to return there. Unable to find everything to his wish, however, +in his own house, “he obtained a chamber or little cell among the +Solitaries of Port Royal,” from which he wrote to his sister with extreme +joy that he was lodged and treated like a prince, “according to St +Bernard’s judgment of what it was to be a prince.” It is still +Jacqueline’s pen which reports all this to Madame Périer. She continues +in the same letter:— + + “He joins in every office of the Church from Prime to Compline, + without feeling the slightest inconvenience in rising at five o’clock + in the morning; and as if it was the will of God that he should join + fasting to watching, in defiance of all the medical prescriptions + which had forbidden him both the one and the other, he found that + supper disagreed with him, and was about to give it up.” {77} + +Such is the story of Pascal’s final conversion and retirement from the +world. Jacqueline’s details fill in the briefer sketch of Madame Périer, +and both tell the story at first hand. None could have known so well as +they did all the circumstances. It is remarkable, therefore, that +neither of them says anything of the well-known incident, emphasised by +Bossut as the mainly exciting cause of his great change:— + + “One day,” it is said, “in the month of October 1654, when he went, + according to his habit, to take his drive to the bridge of Neuilly + _in a carriage and four_, the two leading horses became restive at a + part of the road where there was a parapet, and precipitated + themselves into the Seine. Fortunately, the first strokes of their + feet broke the traces which attached them to the pole, and the + carriage was stayed on the brink of the precipice. The effect of + such a shock on one of Pascal’s feeble health may be imagined. He + swooned away, and was only restored with difficulty, and his nerves + were so shattered that long afterwards, during sleepless nights and + during moments of weakness, he seemed to see a precipice at his + bedside, over which he was on the point of falling.” + +This alarming incident, which comes from nearly contemporary tradition, +no doubt contributed to Pascal’s retirement from the world, and no less +probably also a strange vision he had at this time, to which we shall +afterwards advert. But it is peculiarly interesting to trace the inner +history of Pascal’s great change. Evidently, from what his sister says, +his mind had been for some time very ill at ease in the great world in +which he lived. How far this was the working of his old religious +convictions continually renewing their influence through the conversation +of his sister, how far it was mere weariness and disgust with the +frivolities of fashionable life, and how far it may have been baffled +hope and the disenchantments of a broken dream of love, we cannot clearly +tell. All may have moved him, and brought him to that strange state of +isolation which she describes from his own account. But plainly the +world-weariness preceded the fresh dawn of divine strength in his heart; +and there is a tone of hopelessness in speaking of his detachment from +all the things surrounding him, which favours the thought that some new +and unwonted smart had entered into his life, and driven him forth to the +quiet shelter, where at length he found his old peace with God, and the +great mission to which God had called him. + + * * * * * + +The monastery of Port Royal, in which his sister had already found a +home, remains indelibly associated with Pascal. It was founded in the +beginning of the thirteenth century, in the reign of Philip Augustus; and +a later tradition claimed this magnificent monarch as the author of its +foundation and of its name. It is said that one day he wandered into the +famous valley during the chase, and became lost in its woods, when he was +at length discovered near to an ancient chapel of St Lawrence, which was +much frequented by the devout of the neighbourhood, and that, grateful +because the place had been to him a Port Royal or royal refuge, he +resolved to build a church there. But this is the story of a time when, +as it has been said, “royal founders were in fashion.” More truly, the +name is considered to be derived from the general designation of the fief +or district in which the valley lies, _Porrois_—which, again, is supposed +to be a corruption of _Porra_ or _Borra_, meaning a marshy and woody +hollow. + +The valley of Port Royal presents to this day the same natural features +which attracted the eye of the devout solitary in the seventeenth +century. Some years ago I paid a long-wished-for visit to it. It lies +about eighteen miles west of Paris, and seven or eight from Versailles, +on the road to Chevreuse. As the traveller approaches it from +Versailles, the long lines of a level and somewhat dreary road, only +relieved by rows of tall poplar-trees, break into a more picturesque +country. An antique mouldering village, with quaint little church, its +grey lichen-marked stones brightened by the warm sunshine of a September +day, and the straggling vines drooping their pale dusty leaves over the +cottage-doors, made a welcome variety in the monotonous landscape. How +hazy yet cheerful was the brightness in which the poor mean houses seemed +to sleep! After this the road swept down a long declivity, crowned on +one side by an irregular outline of wood, and presenting here and there +broken and dilapidated traces of former habitations. The famous valley +of Port Royal lay before us. It was a quiet and peaceful yet gloomy +scene. The seclusion was perfect. No hum of cheerful industry enlivened +the desolate space. An air rather as of long-continued neglect rested on +ruined garden and terraces, on farmhouse and dovecot, and the remains as +of a chapel nearer at hand. The more minutely the eye took in the scene, +the more sad seemed its wasted recesses and the few monuments of its +departed glories. The stillness as of a buried past lay all about, and +it required an effort of imagination to people the valley with the sacred +activities of the seventeenth century. + +A rough wooden enclosure has been erected on the site of the high altar +surmounted by a cross. It contained a few memorials, amongst the most +touching of which were simple portraits of Arnauld, Le Maitre, De Saci, +Quesnel, Nicole, Pascal, the Mère Angélique, the Mère Agnès, Jacqueline +Pascal, and Dr Hanlon the physician. Two portraits of the Mère Agnès +particularly impressed me. The lines of the face were exquisitely +touching in their gentle bravery and patience. As I looked at the noble +and sweet countenances grouped on the bare unadorned walls, the sacred +memories of the place rose vividly before my mind. It was here alone +that the recluses from the neighbouring Grange met the sainted +sisterhood, and mingled with them the prayers and tears of penitence. +Otherwise they dwelt apart, each in diligent privacy, intent on their +works of education or of charity. All the ruin and decay and somewhat +dreary sadness of the scene could not weaken my sense of the beautiful +life of thought and faith and hope and love that had once breathed there; +and never before had I felt so deeply the enduring reality of the +spiritual heroism and self-sacrifice, the glory of suffering and of +goodness, that had made the spot so memorable. + +The monastery was founded, not by Philip Augustus, but by Matthieu, first +Lord of Marli, a younger son of the noble house of Montmorency. Having +formed the design of accompanying the crusade proclaimed by Innocent III. +to the Holy Land, he left at the disposal of his wife, Mathilde de +Garlande, and his kinsman, the Bishop of Paris, a sum of money to devote +to some pious work in his absence. They agreed to apply it to the +erection of a monastery for nuns in this secluded valley, that had +already acquired a reputation for sanctity in connection with the old +chapel dedicated to St Lawrence, which attracted large numbers of +worshippers. The foundations of the church and monastery were laid in +1204. They were designed by the same architect who built the Cathedral +of Amiens, and ere long the graceful and beautiful structures were seen +rising in the wilderness. The nuns belonged to the Cistercian order. +Their dress was white woollen, with a black veil; but afterwards they +adopted as their distinctive badge a large scarlet cross on their white +scapulary, as the symbol of the “Institute of the Holy Sacrament.” + +The abbey underwent the usual history of such institutions. +Distinguished at first by the strictness of its discipline and the piety +of its inmates, it became gradually corrupted with increasing wealth, +till, in the end of the sixteenth century, it had grown notorious for +gross and scandalous abuses. The revenues were squandered in luxury; the +nuns did what they liked; and the extravagances and dissipations of the +world were repeated amidst the solitudes which had been consecrated to +devotion. But at length its revival arose out of one of the most obvious +abuses connected with it. The patronage of the institution, like that of +others, had been distributed without any regard to the fitness of the +occupants, even to girls of immature age. In this manner the abbey of +Port Royal accidentally fell to the lot of one who was destined by her +ardent piety to breathe a new life into it, and by her indomitable and +lofty genius to give it an undying reputation. + +Jacqueline Marie Arnauld—better known by her official name, La Mère +Angélique—was appointed abbess of Port Royal when she was only eight +years of age. She was descended from a distinguished family belonging +originally to the old _noblesse_ of Provence, but which had migrated to +Auvergne and settled there. Of vigorous healthiness, both mental and +physical, the Arnaulds had already acquired a merited position and name +in the annals of France. In the beginning of the sixteenth century it +found its way to Paris in the person of Antoine Arnauld, Seigneur de la +Mothe, the grandfather of the heroine of Port Royal. M. de la Mothe, as +he was commonly called, was endowed with the energetic will, and with +more than the usual talents, of his family. He was specially known as +Procureur-général to Catherine de Médicis; but, as he himself said, he +wore “a soldier’s coat as well as a lawyer’s robe.” He was a Huguenot, +and nearly perished in the Bartholomew massacre. He had eight sons, +every one of whom more or less achieved distinction in the service of +their country; but his second son and namesake peculiarly inherited his +father’s legal talents, and became his successor in the office of +Procureur-général. He more than rivalled his father’s forensic success; +and many traditions survive of his great eloquence, and of the +pre-eminent ability with which he pleaded on behalf of the University of +Paris for the expulsion of the Jesuits from France, under suspicion of +having instigated an attempt on the life of Henri IV. in 1593. This +great effort has been called the “original sin” of the Arnauld family +against the Jesuit order, which was never forgiven. His eloquence +produced such an impression, that it is said the judges rose in their +seats to listen to his speech, while crowds assembled at the closed doors +of the Court to catch its partial echoes. And yet, like some other great +speeches, it cannot now be read without weariness. + +Antoine Arnauld married the youthful daughter of M. Marion, the +Avocat-général, who became a mother while still only a girl of fifteen, +but who grew into a noble and large-hearted woman, full of deeds of piety +and charity. In all, the couple had twenty children, and felt, as may be +imagined, the pressure of providing for so many. Out of this pressure +came the remarkable lot of two of the daughters. The benefices of the +Church were a fruitful field of provision, and the avocat-général, the +maternal grandfather of the children, had large ecclesiastical influence. +The result was the appointment not only of one daughter to the abbey of +Port Royal, but also of a younger sister, Agnès, only six years of age, +to the abbey of St Cyr, about six miles distant from Port Royal. +Difficulties, not without reason, were found in obtaining the papal +sanction to such appointments; but these were at last overcome by means, +it is said, more creditable to M. Arnauld’s ability than to his +integrity. + +At the age of eleven, in the year 1602, Angélique was installed Abbess of +Port Royal. Her sister took the veil at the age of seven. United in the +nursery, they had also spent some months together at the abbey of St Cyr, +in preparation for their solemn office. They were of marked but very +contrasted characters. The elder inherited the strong will and dominant +energy of her race. As yet, and for some time afterwards, without any +religious bias, she contemplated her prospects with a quiet and proud +consciousness of responsibility. The younger sister was of a softer and +more submissive nature. She shrank from her high position, saying that +an abbess had to answer to God for the souls of her nuns, and she was +sure that she would have enough to do to take care of her own. Angélique +had no such scruples. She was glad to be an abbess, and was resolved +that her nuns should thoroughly do their duty. These sayings have been +preserved in the memoirs of the family, and are supposed to indicate +happily the firm, persistent spirit and legislative capacity of the one +sister, in contrast with the passive rather than active strength, and +milder yet no less enduring purpose, of the other. + +The remarkable story of Angélique’s conversion by the preaching of a +Capucin friar in 1608, her strange contest with her parents which +followed, the strengthening impulses in different directions which her +religious life received, first from the famous St Francis de Sales, and +finally, and especially, from the no less remarkable Abbé de St Cyran, +all belong to the history of Port Royal, and cannot be detailed here. It +is a touching and beautiful story, which can never lose its interest. It +is only necessary that we draw attention to the temporary removal of the +Abbess with her nuns to Paris in the year 1635, and to the settlement in +the valley, during their absence from it, of the band of Solitaries whose +piety and genius, no less than the heroic devotion of the sisterhood, +have shed such a glory around it. It was the spiritual influence of St +Cyran which overflowed in this direction. The religious genius of this +remarkable man, of whom we shall speak more particularly in the next +chapter, laid its spell upon the social life around him, and brought to +his feet some of the most able and distinguished young men of the time. +The elder brother of Angélique and Agnès Arnauld, known as M. d’Andilly, +was amongst his devoted friends; and it was through him that St Cyran +first became connected with Port Royal. D’Andilly was married, and a +courtier—a busy man in the political circles of his day; but he had long +bowed before the force of St Cyran’s religious convictions, and finally +he too abandoned the world, and sought the retirement of Port Royal, +whither three of his nephews had preceded him; and a younger and yet more +distinguished brother, the namesake of his father, soon followed him. It +was D’Andilly who said of St Cyran, “I was under such obligations to him +that I loved him more than life.” On the other hand, St Cyran said of +him, “He has not the virtue of a saint or an anchorite, but I know no man +of his condition who is so solidly virtuous.” + +The brotherhood of Port Royal had its beginning in 1637 with the +conversion of two of the nephews of D’Andilly and the Mère Angélique, +children of Arnauld’s eldest daughter, who had married unhappily and been +soon separated from her husband. These grandsons of Arnauld are known as +M. le Maitre and M. de Sercourt, the former of whom, like his ancestors, +had greatly distinguished himself at the bar. The latter was no less +distinguished as a soldier. In the midst of worldly success, they +forsook everything and gave themselves to a life of religious retirement, +in which they were by-and-by joined by a younger and still more +remarkable brother, known as M. de Saci, trained for the Church, and +already mentioned in connection with Pascal’s conversion. He became +Pascal’s spiritual director, and held with him the famous conversation on +Epictetus and Montaigne. To the same group of men belonged Singlin, of +whom we have heard so much in former pages, and Lancelot and Fontaine; +above all, Antoine Arnauld, the youngest of the large Arnauld family, and +the most indefatigable of them all. Singlin was a favourite of St Cyran, +and his successor in the office of spiritual director to the monastery, +as De Saci was again the successor of Singlin in the same capacity. He +was a man of less ability and knowledge than many of the others, the son +of a wine merchant, who did not begin his religious studies till a +comparatively late period, but of a very direct and simple character, and +well skilled in the mysteries of the conscience, which made him a +spiritual power in the community. He was withal of singular humility, +and would fain have retired from the office of Confessor when St Cyran +was set at liberty in 1643 after his long imprisonment; but neither then +nor afterwards, on his illustrious friend’s death, was he allowed to do +so. St Cyran warned him that he could not fly from the duties of such a +position without incurring the guilt of disobedience. De Saci seems to +have been especially remarkable for his quiet self-possession and +cautious insight into character. His brother, Le Maitre, brings out in a +curious manner the contrast between his own impetuous character and the +leisurely efficiency of De Saci’s temper. As they sat at their evening +meal—“a very modest collation”— + + “He had hardly begun his supper when mine was already half digested. + . . . Of quick and warm disposition, I had seen the end of my + portion almost as soon as the beginning; it rapidly disappeared; and + as I was thinking of rising from the table, I saw my brother De Saci, + with his usual coolness and gravity, take a little piece of apple, + peel it quietly, cut it leisurely, and eat it slowly. Then, after + having finished, he rose almost as light as he had sat down, leaving + untouched nearly all his very moderate portion. He went away as if + he were quite satisfied, and even appeared to grow fat upon fasts.” + {87} + +Claude Lancelot was the schoolmaster of the community, and represents to +us perhaps more fully than any other name its famous system of education. +Fontaine was one of its chief memoir writers, from whom we derive so much +of our knowledge of the society; while the younger Arnauld, of whom we +shall afterwards speak, Nicole, and the subject of our present sketch, +represent its philosophical and literary activity. + +Such was the company to which Pascal joined himself in 1655. They had +been settled in divers places,—at first, in 1637, when they were still +only a few disciples gathered around St Cyran, in the immediate +neighbourhood of Port Royal de Paris; and then, when driven from this +after their great head’s imprisonment, for a short time at a place called +Ferté Milon; and then, finally, in 1639, at Port Royal des Champs. Here +they made a great change for the better by their assiduous industry. +They drained the marshy valley, cleared it of its overgrowth of +brushwood, and converted it into a comparatively smiling and salubrious +abode. On the return of the sisterhood from Port Royal de Paris in 1648, +the nuns found the place improved beyond their expectations. The +conventual buildings had been repaired, and the church kept in good +preservation. The bells of the church tower pealed a welcome; a large +concourse of the neighbouring poor assembled in the courtyard to greet +them; while the Solitaries—one of their number, a priest, bearing a +cross—waited at the church door to enter with them, and swell with their +voices the Te Deum with which they celebrated their return. After this +they parted, a few of the brotherhood repairing to a house which had been +taken for them in Paris, but others retiring to the well-known farm on +the hill known as Les Granges. There was, of course, the strictest +seclusion maintained in the nunnery, as before, and the inmates of Les +Granges were wellnigh as completely severed from it as the brethren who +retired to Paris. + +The mode of life of the Solitaries was simple in the highest degree. +They wore no distinctive dress. Their wants were supplied by the barest +necessaries in the shape of lodging and furniture. From early morning, +three A.M., to night, they were occupied in works of piety, charity, or +industry. They met in the chapel after their private devotions to say +matins and lauds, a service which occupied about an hour and a half, +after which they kissed the earth in token of a common lowliness, and +sought each his own room for a time. The round of devotion thus +commenced was continued with a steady uniformity,—Prime at half-past six; +Tierces at nine, and after this a daily Mass; Sexte at eleven; Nones at +two; Vespers at four; and Compline closing the series at a quarter-past +seven. {89} The Gospel and Epistles were read daily; and sometimes +during or after dinner the Lives of the Saints. They dined together; and +a walk thereafter formed the sole recreation of the day. Two hours in +the morning, and two in the afternoon, were devoted to work in the fields +or in the garden by those who were able for such tasks. Confession and +communion were frequent, but no uniform rule was enforced. In this, as +in fasting and austerities generally, each recluse was left to his own +free will; and, as will be seen in Pascal’s case, there was no need to +stimulate the morbid desire for bodily mortification. + + * * * * * + +It was in the last month of 1654 that Pascal’s final conversion and +adhesion to Port Royal took place. His mind for some time before had +been greatly agitated, as already explained—filled with disgust of the +world and all its enjoyments. Then had come the accident at the Bridge +of Neuilly, and about the same time, or a little later, a remarkable +vision or ecstasy which he has himself described, and which has given +rise to a good deal of useless speculation. During life he never spoke +of this matter, unless it may have been to his confessor; {90} but after +his death two copies of a brief writing were found upon him,—the one +written on parchment enclosing the other written on paper, and carefully +stitched into the clothes that he had worn day by day. It is beyond +question that Pascal must have been deeply touched by the event, whatever +may have been its precise nature, the memorial of which he had thus +preserved. The footnote shows the writing in the original, as printed by +M. Faugère: there are some variations in the copies, but it seems most +correctly given as below. It may be translated as follows:— + + * * * * * + + The year of grace 1654. + Monday 23d November, day of St Clement, pope and martyr, and others in + the martyrology. + Vigil of St Chrysogone, martyr and others. + From about half-past ten o’clock in the evening till about half-past + twelve. + + Fire. + God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob, + Not of philosophers and of savants. + Certitude. Certitude. Sentiment. Joy. Peace. + God of Jesus Christ + My God and your God. + Thy God will be my God— + Oblivion of the world and of all save God. + He is found only by the ways taught in the Gospel. + + Grandeur of the human soul. + Just Father, the world hath not known Thee, but I have known Thee. + Joy, joy, joy, tears of joy. + I have separated myself from Him— + They have forsaken Me, the fountain of living water. + My God, will you forsake me?— + + Oh, may I not be separated from Him eternally! + This is life eternal, that they know Thee the only true God, + and Him whom Thou hast sent, J.-C. + Jesus Christ— + Jesus Christ— + I have separated myself from Him; I have fled, renounced, crucified Him. + Oh that I may never be separated from Him! + He is only held fast by the ways taught in the Gospel. + + Renunciation total and sweet, + etc. {91} + + * * * * * + +It is difficult to make much of this document. Are we to suppose that +Pascal, on the 23d of November 1654, thought he saw a vision, revealing +to him the truth of Christianity, and the vanity of philosophy and the +world? Even if Pascal did this, our estimate of the matter could hardly +be much affected. But there is no evidence that he himself attached a +supernatural character to the incident. He felt, no doubt, that a real +revelation had come to him, that his mind had been lifted in spiritual +ecstasy away from the love of all that for a time had hid from him the +presence of God and of a higher world. The moment of this blessed +experience had been sacred to him. He had tried to trace it in these +broken characters, and in seasons of doubt or depression he may have +sought to awaken a new fervour of faith and love by their contemplation. +This seems all the natural meaning of the incident; but, as some have +endeavoured to attach to it a supernatural importance, so others, in whom +the idea not only of the supernatural but of the spiritual only excites +contempt, have tried to give to it a purely superstitious character. It +was Condorcet who first applied to the paper the epithet of Pascal’s +“Amulette;” and Lélut has adopted the epithet, and written a volume more +or less relating to it. He supposes the vision to have occurred to +Pascal on the evening of the day when the event at Neuilly had upset his +nervous system—always easily disturbed—and brought before him a frightful +picture of his alienation from God, and the piety of his early manhood. +Facts mingled with the dreams of his excited imagination. He saw the +horses plunging over the precipice, and an abyss seemed to open beside +him—the abyss of eternity; when, lo! from the depths of the abyss there +appeared a globe of fire (_un globe de feu_) encircled with the Cross; +and the irresistible impulse was stirred in him to throw aside the world +for ever, and embrace God,—“Not the God of philosophers or of savants,” +but “the God of Abraham, of Isaac, of Jacob—the God of Jesus Christ,” +from whom he had been severed, but from whom he felt he never more would +be severed; abiding in Him in “sweet and total renunciation” of all else. +The idea, of course, is that Pascal’s dream or vision was the result of +physical derangement; and it may be safely granted that if the reality at +all corresponded to Lélut’s imaginary picture, this is its natural +explanation. The story of the “vision” and the “abyss” are thus made, +not without a certain appearance of probability, to fit into one another, +and both into the accident at Neuilly; and a certain congruity of +external and internal alarm is hence given to the great crisis of +Pascal’s life. Unhappily, however, there is a lack of evidence regarding +the accident itself, {94} and, still more, the accompanying story of the +abyss seen by Pascal at his side, which must make the reader cautious who +has no theory to support. Voltaire, in his usual manner, made the most +of Pascal’s supposed delusions. “In the last years of his life,” he +said, “Pascal believed that he had seen an abyss _by the side of his +chair_,—need we on that account have the same fancy? I, too, see an +abyss, but it is in the very things which he believed that he had +explained.” He quotes also the authority of Leibnitz for the statement +that Pascal’s melancholy had led his intellect astray—a result, he adds, +not at all wonderful in the case of a man of such delicate temperament +and gloomy imagination. But Voltaire was not precise here, as in other +matters about Pascal. He understood him too little to be a good judge of +his mental peculiarities. All that Leibnitz really said was, that +Pascal, “in wishing to fathom the depths of religion, had become +scrupulous even to folly.” {95} + +Whatever explanation we may give of the supposed incidents attending +Pascal’s conversion, there never was a more absurd fancy than that +Pascal’s mind suffered any eclipse in the great change that came to him. +He may have been credulous, he may have been superstitious. The miracle +of the Holy Thorn may be an evidence of the one, and the unnatural +asceticism of his later years a proof of the other. But to speak of the +author of the ‘Provincial Letters,’ of the problems on the Cycloid, and +finally of the ‘Pensées,’ as if his intellect had suffered from his +conversion, is to use words without meaning. All his noblest writings +were the product of his religious experience, and he never soared so high +in intellectual and literary achievement as when moving on the wings of +spiritual indignation or of spiritual aspiration. + +The whole interest of Pascal’s life from this period is concentrated in +his writings—first the ‘Provincials,’ and then the ‘Pensées,’ to which we +devote separate chapters. There was only the interval of a year between +his conversion and the commencement of his great controversy, and little +is known of how he passed his time during this interval. He seems to +have remained chiefly at Port Royal under the guidance of M. de Saci, and +to have felt an unwonted measure of happiness in his triumph over the +world and in the possession of his own quiet thoughts. We have seen how +he spoke of being treated “like a prince,” and even his health seemed to +improve, notwithstanding the regularity and severity of his religious +devotions. He communicated his feelings of elation to his sister, who +replied (19th January 1655) that she was delighted to find him “gay in +his solitude,” as she never was at his happiness in the world. +“Notwithstanding,” she adds, “I do not know how M. de Saci adapts himself +to so light-hearted a penitent, who professes to find compensation for +the vain joys and amusements of the world in joys somewhat more +reasonable, and _jeux d’esprit_ more allowable, instead of expiating them +by perpetual tears.” + +How long Pascal’s pious elation continued is not said, nor have we any +further details of his religious life at Port Royal. He never absolutely +took up his abode there as one of the Solitaries, and could therefore say +in his sixteenth Provincial Letter, without more than an innocent +equivocation, that he “did not belong to Port Royal.” He was still found +there, however, in the beginning of the following year (1655), when the +affair of M. Arnauld and the Sorbonne was approaching its crisis, and the +idea of his famous letters was started in a meeting, to be afterwards +mentioned, between him and Arnauld and Nicole. After this, during the +publication of the ‘Letters,’ Pascal seems chiefly to have resided in +Paris, probably with a view to the greater facilities he enjoyed there in +prosecuting his assaults upon the Jesuits, which continued till the +spring of 1657. During the following year he was busy with the great +idea of a work in defence of religion, suggested partly by his own +intellectual activity, but partly also by a special incident at Port +Royal which made a great impression upon him. + +This was the famous “miracle” of the Holy Thorn. Madame Périer’s +daughter, Marguerite Périer—the same to whom we are indebted for +interesting memorials of her uncle’s life—had become, with her sister, a +pupil at Port Royal. She suffered from an apparently incurable disease +of the eye, _fistula lachrymalis_. On a sudden she was reported to be +entirely cured, and the cure was attributed to the touch of a relic which +had been brought to the abbey by a priest,—a supposed thorn from the +crown of Christ. It is remarkable that the Mère Angélique was somewhat +slow of belief as to the “miracle,” and that she marvelled the world +should make so much of it. But it secured the credence of Pascal, and +became a great fact in the history of Port Royal, staying for a time the +hand of persecution, and pointing, as its friends believed, to the +visible interposition of heaven. How could the accusations against Port +Royal be true, seeing what God Himself had done on its behalf? “This +place, which men say is the devil’s temple, God makes His house. Men +declare that its children must be taken out of it, and God heals them +there. They are threatened with all the furies; God loads them with His +favours.” This was Pascal’s own language on the subject, {97} and there +can be no doubt that the supposed miracle deeply affected him. He was +“sensibly touched,” it is said, “by such a grace, regarding it as +virtually done to himself, seeing it was done to one so near to him in +kindred, and who was his spiritual daughter in baptism.” He was +penetrated by a great joy, and much occupied by the thought of what had +happened, and the general subject of miracles. There was in this manner +awakened in him “the extreme desire of employing himself on a work in +refutation of the principles and false reasonings of the atheists.” “He +had studied them,” his sister continues, “with great care, and applied +his whole mind to search out the means of convincing them. His last year +of work was entirely occupied in collecting divers thoughts on this +subject.” + +Unhappily, in the course of 1658 Pascal’s old illness returned with +redoubled severity, and the last four years of his life became in +consequence years of great languor and interruption of his projected +work. The practice of continuous composition failed him. Hitherto he +had been wont to develop his thoughts completely,—to write them out, as +it were, mentally before committing them to paper; but now he began the +habit of transferring his ideas rapidly, and sometimes imperfectly, to +manuscript, as they arose in his mind. In many cases, if not in all, +these first sketches remained as originally made, without any revision or +further reconstruction; and from the mass of papers accumulated in this +manner during these years the ‘Pensées’ were formed—the story of whose +publication will be afterwards told. Strangely, it was in this very +year, during a fit of severe toothache, apparently connected with his +general illness, that Pascal began his wonderful series of problems on +the cycloid, showing how fresh and unimpaired his scientific genius +remained under all the changes of his health and of his main intellectual +interests. + +The last years of Pascal’s life, in their deep suffering, and in their +many traits of pious resignation and self-denial, have been fully +sketched by Madame Périer. We do not think it necessary to repeat the +sketch here, touching and beautiful as in some respects it is. It is +impossible to read her simple and earnest narrative without emotion, and +yet the emotion is apt to evaporate in translation. It is impossible, +also, to avoid the feeling that, with all the tenderness and humility of +Pascal’s later years, there mingle a strange pride in his very +austerities, and something of the nature of religious mania, which, +beautiful as may be the forms it sometimes takes, is yet in its spirit, +and in not a few of its excesses, essentially unlovely. Pascal’s care of +the poor, his love of them—“to serve the poor in a spirit of poverty” was +what appeared to him “most agreeable to God”—his wish to die among them, +to be carried to the Hospital for Incurables, and breathe his last there; +the story of his rescue of the poor girl who asked alms from him on the +streets; his unparalleled patience, and even gladness, in suffering, so +that he seemed to welcome it and bind it about him as a garment; his +wonderful humility and yet his noble courage at the last in the matter of +the Formulary,—all this goes to the heart of the reader. It must be a +cold heart that is not moved by the picture of a great soul striving “to +renounce all pleasure and all superfluities,”—to copy literally, like St +Francis, the portrait of his Master. But here, as everywhere, the human +copy falls infinitely short of the divine Original. There is the +loveliness of a true human life beneath all the picture of suffering +presented to us in the Gospels. All the hues of natural feeling have +gone out of the last years of Pascal. He not only bore suffering—he +preferred it; and he boldly justified his preference. “Sickness,” he +said, “is the natural state of the Christian; it puts us in the condition +in which we always ought to be.” In this spirit he strove to deaden any +sensation of pleasure in his food, in the attentions of his relatives and +friends, even in his studies. He could not bear to see his sister +caressing her children; there seemed to him harm in even saying that a +woman was beautiful; the married state was a “kind of homicide or rather +Deicide.” He thought it wrong that any one should find pleasure in +attachment to him, for he “was not the final object of any being, and had +not wherewith to satisfy any.” So jealous was he of any surprise of +pleasure, of any thought of vanity or complacency in himself and his +work, that he wore a girdle of iron next his skin, the sharp points of +which he pressed closely when he thought himself in any danger, +especially in such moments of intercourse with the world as he still +sometimes allowed himself. + +Such details are neither interesting in themselves nor do they present +Pascal in his highest character. One cannot help feeling that, touching +as Madame Périer’s narrative is, there must have been, even in the Pascal +of later years, more than she has drawn for us. One glimpse we get, but +not in her pages, of a more natural temper, when he withstood his +Jansenist friends in the matter of subscribing the Formulary demanded +from the Port Royalists. He had himself previously been willing to +subscribe, with certain restrictions, when his sister Jacqueline alone +stood out in her resistance to what she deemed a treasonable betrayal of +the cause. She signed at last, but against her conscience, and, so to +speak, with her blood. She died immediately afterwards, the first victim +of the signature, as she has been called, and bequeathing a letter to her +fellow-sufferers on the subject. Whether inspired by her words or not, +Pascal took a firm stand against any further concessions, and in a famous +interview with Arnauld, Nicole, and Sainte-Marthe, he argued the point +with such strength and vehemence that he fell fainting to the ground. +{101} + +This was in the end of 1661, when his sufferings were fast drawing to a +close. In the previous summer, when at Clermont, he had written to +Fermat that he was so weak as to be “unable to walk without a stick, or +to hold himself on horseback.” His weakness had grown apace, and in June +1662 he was seized with his last illness. It was necessary that his +sister should nurse him, and this could only be done by his removal to +her house, for he had given up his own house to a poor family, one of +whose children had taken smallpox, and he would allow neither the child +to be removed nor his sister to run the risk of carrying infection to her +children. He left his own home for hers, therefore, on the 27th of June, +and never returned. Three days after his removal he was seized with a +violent colic, which deprived him of all sleep. His physicians at first +were not alarmed, as his pulse continued good, but gradually pain and +sleeplessness wore him out. He confessed both to the _curé_ of the +parish and to his friend Sainte-Marthe, one of the directors of the +community. He wished, as we said, to die in the Hospital for Incurables +amongst the poor, but in his state of weakness it was impossible to +gratify this wish. After the administration of the last sacrament, which +he received with tearful emotion, he thanked the _curé_, and exclaimed, +“May God never leave me!” These were his last words. Convulsions having +returned, he expired on the 19th of August 1662. + +It is unnecessary to attempt any estimate of Pascal’s character. The +reader must draw it for himself in the light of these pages. With all +enthusiasm for its grandeur and unity of purpose, and that moral and +intellectual elevation which it everywhere shows, it may be found lacking +in breadth and variety, and that familiar interest and charm which +strangely often come from the contemplation of human weakness rather than +of human strength. There is certainly less to love in him than to +admire—less to call forth delight than respect. The play of natural +individuality is hidden behind lines of lofty distance, and latterly of +Jansenist severity. A proud, ascetic, and worn figure seems to rise +before us; but strangely Pascal’s portrait, as known to us, conveys no +idea of asceticism. The face is full-fleshed and expressive, like the +face of a child, with large ripe lips and open eyes of wonder,—a portrait +which suggests the companion of the Duc de Roannez in his years of +pleasure, rather than the weary and pain-worn penitent of Port Royal. +{102} + + + + +CHAPTER V. +THE ‘PROVINCIAL LETTERS.’ + + +Pascal’s ‘Letters to a Provincial’ represent a great controversy, the +nature of which it is necessary to explain. They are, at the same time, +the most perfect expression of his literary genius, and touch theological +questions with such an inimitable grace and felicity of expression as to +have awakened a universal intellectual interest. It may be hard to +justify this interest by any analysis of their contents, or by such +extracts as can be given from them. No English can convey the exquisite +fitness of French polemical expression in its highest form, its mingled +force and delicacy, its keenness and yet its lightness. We shall, +however, endeavour to give as clearly as we can an account, first, of the +controversy out of which the ‘Letters’ originated, and then of the +consummate skill with which Pascal conducted it. + +M. de St Cyran is not merely one of the chief figures connected with Port +Royal: he was the fountain-head of its special power. To his influence +and teaching it was indebted for its chief glory and its most terrible +sufferings. Jean Baptist du Vergier d’Hauranne, better known by the +above official designation, was of noble family. He was born at Bayonne +in 1581, and early devoted himself to the study of theology at Louvain +and Paris. While a student, he is supposed to have first made the +acquaintance of Cornelius Jansen, and to have begun with him that +co-operation which was destined to bear such remarkable fruits. Their +intimacy was one based on spiritual affinity and a common enthusiasm. +For Jansen was the son of poor peasants, without even a surname. His +father is only known as Jan Ottosen, or John the son of Otto; as the son +in his turn was Cornelius Jansen, or the son of John. Jansen was the +younger of the two friends, having been born in 1585; but he appears to +have exercised a powerful influence over his older companion. The great +bond of their union and common enthusiasm was the study of St Augustine. +For the purpose of pursuing this study undisturbed, they retired to the +seaside near Bayonne, and here they established themselves in scholastic +seclusion. Smitten with the desire of attaining theological truth, they +found the Schoolmen constantly appealing to St Augustine as their +authority, and they consequently resolved to examine this authority for +themselves, and so ascend to what they believed to be the source of their +favourite science. Had they taken only one step further, they would have +approached Protestantism; and as it was, the favourite charge which the +Jesuits afterwards made against them was, that they were Calvinists in +disguise. Unconsciously they were so, notwithstanding all their +disclaimers. The Jesuits were unscrupulous; but their penetration here, +as in many other cases, was not at fault. The doctrines so warmly +espoused by Jansen and St Cyran were the old doctrines of _grace_, which +Calvin and they alike borrowed from St Augustine, and he in his turn +found in the Epistles of St Paul. {105} And the controversy which their +labours were destined once more to awaken in the bosom of the Catholic +Church was nothing else than the old dispute which, since the days of +Augustine and Pelagius, had more than once already agitated it. + +The fellow-students continued their studies near Bayonne for five years. +So closely did they work, that Jansen is said to have spent days and +nights in the same chair, snatching only brief intervals of rest. A game +at battledore and shuttlecock occasionally relieved their vigils; but no +serious employment divided their attention with the arduous task upon +which they had entered, of mastering and digesting the principles of the +Augustinian theology. The Bishop of Bayonne offered preferment to +D’Hauranne, and there were projects of settling Jansen also at the head +of a college; but it was not till some time afterwards that either of +them entered upon official labours. They were left during those years to +the uninterrupted studies which subsequently resulted in the great work +of Jansen. The system of theological thought associated with his name +was then definitely matured. + +It is beyond our province to sketch the career of these fellow-students, +one of whom became the chief spiritual director of Port Royal, and the +other its great theological centre. The abbey of St Cyran was the only +preferment which D’Hauranne ever accepted, notwithstanding Richelieu’s +repeated offers of a bishopric. He was content to exercise from his +monastic seclusion an influence far more powerful than that of any bishop +of his day. And so penetrating and dangerous did this influence seem to +the great Minister whose efforts to bind him to his side had so often +failed, that he at length shut him up in Vincennes (May 1638). Here he +remained in close confinement for more than four years; but even from +this gloomy retreat the impression of his great personal power was spread +abroad, and felt in many quarters as steadily as before. He survived his +release only a few months. His long imprisonment had broken down his +health; and although the enthusiasm of his spirit was strong as ever, his +weakened body was no longer able to answer to its demands. He could +hardly “hold himself up,” and a slight attack of illness carried him off. + +St Cyran’s chief strength seems to have lain in a concentrated enthusiasm +and quiet strength of will which enabled him to hold his own against all +opposition, and to subdue other minds larger than his own to his +purposes. When the Prince de Condé interceded for him after his arrest, +Richelieu’s reply was: “Do you know of whom you are speaking? That man +is more dangerous than six armies. _I_ say that attrition with +confession is necessary: _he_ believes that contrition is necessary. +{106} And in the affair of Monsieur’s marriage all France has given way +to me, and he alone has the hardihood to oppose it.” Against all +enticements and assaults alike he set a proud and firm faith in his own +mission—a patience sublime in its calmness, and in the unwavering +consciousness of Divine right on his side. “I am careful to complain of +nothing,” he said in his imprisonment. “I am ready to remain here a +hundred years; to die here, if God will. I am ready for whatever He +designs—for action or for suffering.” The same faith and quiet assurance +gave him his marvellous influence over others, and that fascination which +made him a power in the cultivated society of Paris. All the Arnauld +family more or less owned his influence; and it was his teaching mainly +that peopled Port Royal with the Solitaries who have made it so +illustrious. + +The life and work of Jansen seem at first far removed from Port Royal. +He returned to Louvain after his sojourn at Bayonne, and became a +professor of theology in its famous university, on whose behalf he was +employed in several political negotiations with the Spanish Court. +Finally he was appointed Bishop of Ypres, in which capacity he is chiefly +known in the ecclesiastical world. His fame, however, rests not on any +political or ecclesiastical labours, but on the results flowing from his +original studies at Bayonne. He never forgot his devotion to St +Augustine. He is said to have read the whole of his writings ten times, +and the treatises against the Pelagians not less than thirty times. The +fruit of all this studious devotion was his work known briefly as the +‘Augustinus,’ {107} published two years after his death (in 1640). +Nothing could have seemed more innocent or laudable than the attempt by a +bishop of the Church to set forth the doctrine of St Augustine. The book +professed to have been undertaken in a humble spirit. + + “I have avoided error where I could,” says the author; “for the cases + in which I could not, I implore the reader’s pardon. . . . Let the + knowledge of my sincerity make amends for the simplicity of my error. + I know that if I have erred, it is not in the assertion of Catholic + truth, but in the statement of the opinion of St Augustine; for I + have not laid down what is true or false, what is to be held or + rejected according to the faith of the Catholic Church, but only what + Augustine taught and declared was to be held.” + +A task of such a character, carried out in such a spirit, might have +seemed a harmless one. + +But the Jesuits had long marked both St Cyran and Jansen as theological +foes, opposed to their special doctrines. They endeavoured therefore, +first of all, to prevent the publication of Jansen’s work; and failing in +this, they directed all their efforts to procure a condemnation of the +book from the Court of Rome. “Never,” it has been said, “did any book +receive a more stormy welcome. Within a few weeks of its appearance the +University, the Jesuits, the executors of Jansen, the printer of the +‘Augustinus,’ the Spanish governor of the Low Countries, and the Papal +Nuncio were engaged in a warfare of pamphlets, treatises, pasquinades, +pleadings, synods, audiences, which it would be impossible to set forth +in historical sequence.” {108} In the midst of all this, Jansen’s old +fellow-student received the book, in the preparation of which he also had +had some share, in his prison at Vincennes, as if an echo of his own +thoughts. “It would last as long as the Church,” he said. “After St +Paul and St Augustine, no one had written concerning grace like Jansen.” + +The Jesuits were resolved in their hostility. They knew that the book, +while assuming a historical form, and professing in the main to represent +the doctrine of Augustine as directed against the errorists of his own +time, had a side reference to the “opinions of certain modern authors,” +understood to be well-known theologians of their own school. This was in +fact acknowledged in an appendix. Unable any longer to wreak their +vengeance on the author himself, they were resolved to put his work under +ban; and accordingly, a Bull was obtained from Rome in the summer of +1642, condemning Jansen by name, and declaring that the ‘Augustinus’ +contained “many propositions already condemned” by the Holy See. It was +doubted whether the Pope, Urban VIII., designed to go the length +announced in the bull, and the terms of the condemnation were rumoured to +have been inserted by a Papal officer in the interests of the Jesuits. +The Universities of Louvain and Paris therefore did not take any steps to +carry out the condemnation. They remained spectators of the controversy +which raged around them, in which the Archbishop of Paris on one side, +and the youngest of the Arnauld family on the other, were conspicuous. + +Antoine Arnauld was the last of the twenty children born to the great +parliamentary orator and Catherine Marion his wife, of whom we have +already spoken. His nephews, Le Maitre and De Saci, were so near his own +age, that they were accustomed to call him familiarly _le petit oncle_. +Early consecrated to theological studies by the influence of St Cyran and +his mother, he espoused zealously the Augustinian doctrines. A splendid +prospect seemed opening before him, had he chosen to enter the Church and +pursue an ecclesiastical career in the ordinary manner. But while +thirsting for theological distinction, he had scruples about his vocation +to the holy office. He overcame his scruples so far as to become a +priest; but not only would he not accept the benefices placed within his +reach by powerful friends—he insisted on resigning such as he held. He +even disposed of his patrimony for the benefit of Port Royal, preserving +only as much as would provide him with the bare necessaries of life. He +became a doctor in 1641, and already, in 1643, the interest of the whole +theological world was aroused by his treatise, ‘Of Frequent Communion.’ + +The aim of this treatise, as of all Arnauld’s writings, was +anti-Jesuitical. He set forth, backed by the authority of “Fathers, +Popes, and Councils,” the necessity of spiritual preparation for the Holy +Communion, in opposition to the formula which had been boldly advanced by +more than one Jesuit teacher, that “the more we are devoid of divine +grace, the more ought we to seek Jesus Christ in the Eucharist.” The +commotion made by the publication shows how grave was the need for it. +On the one hand it was warmly welcomed, many pious bishops and doctors +testifying approbation of its contents; on the other hand it was +violently assailed. The Jesuit pulpits resounded with abuse of it and of +its author. All Paris was disturbed by the noise which it made. “There +must be a snake in the grass somewhere,” it was wittily remarked, “for +the Jesuits were never so excited when only the glory of God was at +stake.” The learned Petavius, and even the Prince de Condé, did not +disdain to mingle in the combat. For a time Arnauld seemed to triumph, +but finally the influence of Rome was brought against him, and he was +glad to take refuge in concealment—the first of the many concealments +into which his incessant polemical activity drove him in the course of +his long life. He never abated his opposition. He had no sooner retired +from one controversy, than he reappeared in some other. His energy knew +no bounds, his love of fighting no pause. When in his old age his friend +and fellow-student Nicole advised him to rest. “Rest!” he said; “have I +not all eternity to rest in?” + +It was a matter of course that when the great Jansenist controversy +began, Arnauld should be found in the van of it. ‘An Apology for Jansen’ +appeared from his pen in 1644, and a second ‘Apology’ in the following +year. It seemed for a time as if the Jesuits would be foiled in their +efforts to secure the effectual condemnation of the book. But at length +one of their number, Nicolas Cornet, Syndic of the Faculty of Theology at +Paris, collected its essential heresy in the shape of seven propositions. +These propositions were afterwards reduced to five; and at length, on the +31st of May 1653, a formal condemnation of them was obtained from the +Court of Rome. There was no longer any doubt as to the attitude of the +Holy See. All the propositions were declared to be distinctly heretical, +and the first and the fifth, moreover, to be blasphemous and impious. +This result was not reached without much debate and delay. No sooner had +Cornet’s propositions appeared than Arnauld assailed them and all who +supported them. A congregation of four cardinals and eleven theological +assessors had been appointed to examine them in the end of the year 1651. +They had taken, therefore, a year and a half to their work, and the +sentence at length issued was intended to bring the long warfare to a +close. In point of fact it kindled a fresh fire, and opened, if not a +larger, yet a more vital controversy. Arnauld retired willingly before a +new writer summoned by himself into the field, and girded with his +blessing as he went forth to the encounter. + +The five propositions, which were professed to be extracted from Jansen’s +book, and as such were condemned by the Papal Bull of 31st May 1653, are +so intimately connected with the ‘Provincial Letters’ as to claim a place +in our pages. They are as follows:— + + I. There are divine commandments which good men, although willing, + are unable to obey; and the grace by which these commandments are + possible is also wanting in them. + + II. No person, in the state of fallen nature, is able to resist + internal grace. + + III. In order to render human actions meritorious or otherwise, + liberty from necessity is not required, but only liberty from + constraint. + + IV. The semi-Pelagians, while admitting the necessity of prevenient + grace—or grace preceding all actions—were heretics, inasmuch as they + said that this grace was such as man could, according to his will, + either resist or obey. + + V. The semi-Pelagians also erred in saying that Christ died or shed + His blood for all men universally. + +It would be needless for us to touch these propositions, even by way of +explanation. We have endeavoured to state them from the original Latin +as clearly as we can, so that they may bear some definite meaning even to +the non-theological reader. But their very statement bristles with +controversy, and the half-extinct meanings of old questions that go to +the root of Christian thought lie hid in their language. All the +propositions were condemned without reserve, but two points were left +unsettled. It was not asserted that the propositions were to be found in +the ‘Augustinus,’ and that they were condemned in the sense in which +Jansen held them, and in no other. The course of the controversy and the +fate of Port Royal in the end mainly turned upon these points. + +The Papal Bull condemning the five propositions was speedily published in +France, and the triumph of the Jesuits was undisguised. A great blow had +been struck, and for a time all seemed inclined to bow before it. +Political reasons combined with others to give effect to the Papal +verdict. Cardinal Mazarin, in possession of the favour of the +Queen-mother, had imprisoned his enemy, Cardinal de Retz, who had so long +waged in the intrigues and wars of the Fronde a restless conflict with +them; and as the latter in his prosperity had shown a certain favour for +Port Royal, this was enough to stimulate, on the part of Mazarin, an +interest on behalf of the Jesuits. Yet he was reluctant to move actively +against the Jansenists. M. d’Andilly still had his ear in matters of +State, and by his intervention and that of others the project of an +armistice was for a time entertained. Port Royal was to keep silence, if +its enemies did not push their triumph to an extremity. Even the +indefatigable Arnauld seems to have promised to be quiet. But the +Jesuits were too conscious of their power, and too relentless in their +hostility, to pause in their determination to crush their opponents. +They had recourse both to gibes and to active persecution. They printed +an almanac with the figure of Jansen as frontispiece, flying in the guise +of a winged devil before the Pope and the king into the arms of the +Huguenots. They assailed the Duc de Liancourt, and refused him +absolution in his own parish church, for no other reason but that he was +on friendly relations with Port Royal, and would not withdraw, at their +demand, his granddaughter from its protection. This affair, which +appears to have been deliberately planned, caused a great sensation, and +became, strangely, the indirect occasion of the ‘Provincial Letters.’ + +Indignant at such an outrage, Arnauld was no longer to be restrained. He +rushed before the public with a pamphlet under the title, “Letter of a +Doctor of the Sorbonne to a Person of Condition, concerning an event +which has recently happened in a parish of Paris to a Nobleman of the +Court, February 24, 1655.” The Letter opened with an expression of his +wish to dispute no more; but as Sainte-Beuve hints, the avowed desire of +peace plunged him all the more into war. His letter called forth +numerous replies. He responded by a “Second Letter,” in the shape of a +volume. In this letter his enemies seemed to see his fate written. They +extracted from it two propositions which in their view clearly +contravened the Papal verdict—namely, 1st, that he had expressed doubts +whether the five propositions condemned as heretical were in Jansen’s +book at all; and 2d, that he had really reproduced the first of the five +condemned propositions in one of his own statements, that according to +both the Gospel and the Fathers, St Peter, a just man, was wanting in +grace when he fell. This was nothing but undisguised Jansenism, and his +accusers in the Sorbonne rallied for his overthrow. A meeting was +summoned to consider the letter, and to judge it and the author. + +The details of the proceedings would weary the reader. It is sufficient +to say that, notwithstanding the concessions wrung from Arnauld, some of +which were humiliating enough, he was condemned on the first point (Jan. +1656)—the great question of “fait,” in contrast to the question of +“droit,” involved in the second statement as to grace being wanting to St +Peter in his fall. His condemnation, however, was mainly secured by the +introduction of a number of monks who swelled the majority against him, +and the legality of whose vote was challenged by many members. But, as +Pascal afterwards said, “it was easier to find monks than arguments.” +The second and doctrinal point received professedly more deliberate +discussion. The sittings regarding it were protracted till the close of +the month, the 29th of January. But the result was really forestalled. +The restriction laid on free debate was such as to lead no fewer than +sixty doctors to withdraw, protesting to Parliament against the +interference with their rights. Their protest, however, came to nothing. +Sentence was finally passed, against not only Arnauld, but all who +adhered to him or espoused his opinions. The victim, with his usual +adroitness, escaped his pursuers, and went once more into a concealment +which all their vigilance could not penetrate. Two days after the +censure he wrote to one of his nieces, “I am in very close hiding, and by +God’s grace without trouble or disquiet.” “Would you like me to tell you +where M. Arnauld is hidden?” inquired a lady of the _gendarmes_ who were +searching her house for traces of him. “He is safely hidden here,” +pointing to her heart; “arrest him if you can.” + +It was in the interval betwixt the first and second judgment of the +Sorbonne that the first of the ‘Provincial Letters’ appeared. The story +is, {116a} that during the course of the process Arnauld, Nicole, and +Pascal, along with M. Vitart, the steward of the Duc de Luynes (to whom +Arnauld’s second Letter had been addressed), and other friends, were met +in secrecy at Port Royal des Champs. Their conversation turned to the +pending case, and the misapprehensions and prejudices which prevailed in +the public mind regarding it. It was felt that some effort should be +made to clear away these prejudices, and to diffuse right information in +a popular form. Arnauld, ever ready with his pen, was prepared himself +to undertake this task; and in a few days afterwards he read to his +friends a long and serious paper in vindication of his position. But his +friends were not moved as he expected. His pen, powerful in its own +sphere, was not fitted to tell upon the popular mind; and his audience +were too honest to conceal their disappointment. Arnauld, in his turn, +frankly acknowledged the truth forced upon him. “I see you do not find +my paper what you wished, and I believe you are right,” he said; and +then, turning all at once to Pascal, he said, “But you, who are young, +who are clever, {116b} you ought to do something.” The effect was not +lost upon Pascal. He divined with his genuine literary instinct exactly +what was required in the circumstances, although distrusting his power to +produce it. He promised, however, to make an attempt, which his friends +might polish and put in shape as they thought fit. Next day he produced +“A Letter written to a Provincial by one of his friends.” The Letter was +unanimously pronounced exactly what was required, and ordered to be +printed. It appeared on the 23d January 1656; and a second followed six +days later. + +Nothing could have been happier or more admirably suited for their +purpose than those Letters. They took up the subject for the first time +in a light intelligible to all. They brought to play upon it not only a +penetrating and rapid intelligence, but a brightness of wit, and a +dramatic creativeness, which made the Sorbonne and its parties, the +Jansenists and their friends, alive before the reader. Never was the +triumph of genius over mere learned labour more complete. Arnauld, as he +listened to them, must have felt his own thoughts spring up before him +into a living shape, hardly less startling to himself than to his +opponents. + +Addressing his friend in the country, the author expresses his surprise +at what he has come to learn of the character of the disputes dividing +the Sorbonne:— + + “We have been imposed upon,” he says. “It was only yesterday that I + was undeceived. Until then I had thought that the disputes of the + Sorbonne were really important, and deeply affected the interests of + religion. The frequent convocation of an assembly so illustrious as + that of the Theological Faculty of Paris, attended by so many + extraordinary and unprecedented circumstances, induced such high + expectations that one could not help believing the business to be of + extraordinary importance. You will be much surprised, however, when + you learn from this letter the upshot of the grand demonstration. I + can explain the matter in a few words, having made myself perfectly + master of it.” + +Two questions, he says, were under examination—“the one a question of +fact, the other a question of right.” + +He explains the question of fact as consisting in the point whether M. +Arnauld was guilty of temerity in expressing his doubts as to the +propositions being in Jansen’s book after the bishops had declared that +they were. No fewer than seventy-one doctors undertook his defence, +maintaining that all that could reasonably be asked of him was to say +that “he had not been able to find them, but that if they were in the +book, he condemned them there.” + + “Some,” he continues, “even went a step farther, and protested that, + after all the search they had made in the book, they had never + stumbled upon these propositions, and that they had, on the contrary, + found sentiments entirely at variance with them. They then earnestly + begged that if any doctor present had discovered them, he would have + the goodness to point them out; adding that what was so easy could + not be reasonably refused, as that would be the surest way to silence + all objectors, M. Arnauld included. But this they have always + refused to do. So much for the one side. + + “On the other side are eighty secular doctors, and some forty + mendicant friars, who have condemned M. Arnauld’s proposition, + without choosing to examine whether he has spoken truly or + falsely—who, in fact, have declared that they have nothing to do with + the veracity of his proposition, but simply with its temerity. + Besides these were fifteen who were not in favour of the censure, and + who are called Neutrals.” + +Having thus stated the question of fact, and the balance of parties +regarding it, Pascal dismisses it at once, important as it proved in the +after-history of Port Royal. + + “As to the issue of the question of fact, I own I give myself very + little concern. It does not affect my conscience in the least + whether M. Arnauld is presumptuous or the reverse; and should I be + tempted from curiosity to ascertain whether these propositions are + contained in Jansen, his book is neither so very scarce nor so very + large but that I can read it all through for my own enlightenment + without consulting the Sorbonne at all.” + +Only, while himself hitherto inclined to believe with common report that +the propositions were in Jansen, he was now almost led to doubt that they +were so from the absurd refusal to point them out. In this respect he +fears the censure will do more harm than good. “For, in truth, people +have become sceptical of late, and will not believe things till they see +them.” + +But the point being in itself so frivolous, he hastens to take up the +question of right, as touching the faith. And here the play of the +dialogue begins:— + + “You and I supposed that the question here was one involving the + deepest principles of grace, as to whether it is given to all men, or + whether it is efficacious of itself. But truly we were deceived. + You must know I have become a great theologian in a short time, and + you will see the proofs of it.” + +He describes, then, how he had made a visit to a doctor of the Sorbonne, +who was his neighbour, and one of the most zealous opponents of the +Jansenists, to inquire into the controversy. He asked him why the +question as to grace should not be set at rest by a formal decision that +“grace is really given to all”? But he received a rude rebuff, and was +told that this was not the point. “There were those on his side who held +that grace is not given to all, and even the examiners themselves had +declared, in a full meeting of the Sorbonne, that this opinion was +problematical.” This was, in fact, his own view; and he confirmed it by +what he said was a celebrated passage of St Augustine, “We know that +grace is not given to all men.” He was equally unfortunate in his second +inquiry. His neighbour, opposed as he was to Jansenism, would not +condemn the doctrine of efficacious grace. The doctrine, on the +contrary, was quite orthodox, was held by the Jesuits, and had even been +defended by himself in his thesis at the Sorbonne. The inquirer is +confounded, and ventures to ask then in what M. Arnauld’s heresy +consisted? “In this,” replies his friend, “that he does not acknowledge +that the just have the power of obeying the commandments of God in the +way in which we understand it.” Having got to what he supposes the +“heart of the affair,” he posts off to a Jansenist acquaintance, “a very +decent man notwithstanding.” But if he was puzzled before, he is still +more puzzled when he hears the worthy Jansenist declare that it is no +heresy to hold that “all the just have always the power of obeying the +Divine commandments.” Confounded by such a reply, he felt that he had +been too plain-spoken with both Jansenist and Molinist. {120} There must +be something more in this dispute than he understood; and if not, there +was no reason why there should not now be peace in the Church and the +Sorbonne. He returned to the Molinist, whom he had first visited, with +this assurance. The Jansenists, he said, were quite at one with the +Jesuits as to the power of the righteous always to obey the commandments +of God. + + “All very well,” said he, “but you must be a theologian to see the + gist of the matter. The difference between us is so subtle that we + can hardly make it out ourselves. It is quite beyond _your_ + understanding. Suffice it for you to know that the Jansenists will + indeed say that the just have always the power of obeying the + commandments—this is not the point in dispute; but they will not say + that this power is _proximate_. _That_ is the point.” + +Mystified more than ever by this new and unknown expression, of which he +could get no explanation, the inquirer now returned to his Jansenist +friend to demand of him if he admitted it. “Do you admit the _proximate +power_?” was all that he could say to him. He had charged his memory +carefully with the expression, all the more that he did not understand +it. The Jansenist smiled, and said coldly, “Tell me in what sense you +use the expression, and I will tell you what I believe about it.” But +this was just what he could not do. So he gave the haphazard answer, +that he used it “in the sense of the Molinists.” “Which of the +Molinists?” was the rejoinder. “All of them together, as being one body, +and having one and the same mind,” was the second answer at random: upon +which he is assured he is very ill informed; that the Molinists, instead +of being at one, are hopelessly divided, but that being united in the +design to ruin M. Arnauld, they have all agreed to use this term, +understanding it in different senses, and so by an apparent agreement to +form a compact body in order to crush him more confidently. + +The ingenuous inquirer hesitates to believe in such wickedness. He +professes himself to be animated by a pure desire of understanding the +subject, and asks still that the mysterious word _proximate_ may be +explained to him. His Jansenist friend professes a willingness to +enlighten him, but says that his explanation would be liable to +suspicion. He must have recourse to those who invented the expression, +and is referred to a M. le Moine, on the one hand, as representing the +Molinists or Jesuits; and a Father Nicolai as representing the Dominicans +or “New Thomists.” Both of these were real characters: the former a +doctor of the Sorbonne, and a violent anti-Jansenist, who had written on +the subject of grace; the latter a Dominican, who is said, however, by +Nicole to have abandoned the principles of his order and embraced +Pelagianism. The bewildered seeker after theological knowledge resorts, +not to these worthies themselves, with whom he professes to have no +acquaintance, but to certain disciples of theirs. In this manner he gets +a definition of “proximate power,” from which it is apparent that, while +the Jesuits and Dominicans are only agreed in using the same +expression—the meanings they put into it being entirely different—the +Jansenists and Dominicans agree in substance, while only differing in the +use of words. The passage in which the result of his successive +interviews is described is one of the happiest in the letter. On +receiving from the Dominicans, whom he terms “Jacobins,” from their +association with the Rue de St Jacques, where the first Dominican convent +in Paris was erected, an explanation of the doctrine of grace, he +exclaims:— + + “Capital! So, according to you, the Jansenists are Catholics, and M. + le Moine a heretic; for the Jansenists say that the just have the + power of praying, but that further efficacious grace is necessary—and + this is what you also approve. M. le Moine, however, says that the + just may pray without efficacious grace—and this you condemn. ‘Ay,’ + they replied, ‘but M. le Moine calls this power _proximate power_.’ + ‘But what is this, my father,’ I exclaimed in turn, ‘but to play with + words—to say that you agree as to the common terms you employ, while + your sense is quite different?’ To this they made no reply; and at + this very point the disciple of M. le Moine, with whom I had + consulted, arrived by what seemed to me a lucky and extraordinary + conjuncture. But I afterwards found that these meetings were not + uncommon; that, in fact, they were continually mixing the one with + the other. I addressed myself immediately to M. le Moine’s disciple: + ‘I know one,’ said I, ‘who maintains that the just have always the + power of praying to God, but that nevertheless they never pray + without an efficacious grace which determines them, and which is not + always given by God to all the just. Is such a one a heretic?’ + ‘Wait,’ said my doctor; ‘you take me by surprise. Come, gently. + _Distinguo_. If he calls this power _proximate power_, he is a + Thomist, and yet a Catholic; if not, he is a Jansenist, and therefore + a heretic.’ ‘He calls it,’ said I, ‘neither the one nor the other.’ + ‘He is a heretic then,’ said he; ‘ask these good fathers.’ It was + unnecessary to appeal to them, for already they had assented by a nod + of their heads. But I insisted. ‘He refuses to use the word + _proximate_, because no one can explain it to him.’ Whereupon one of + the fathers was about to give his definition of the term, when he was + interrupted by M. le Moine’s disciple. ‘What!’ said he; ‘do you wish + to recommence our quarrels? Have we not agreed never to attempt an + explanation of this word _proximate_, but to use it on both sides + without saying what it means?’ And to this the Jacobin assented. I + saw at once into their plot, and rising to quit them, I said, ‘Of a + truth, my fathers, this is nothing, I fear, but a quibble; and + whatever may come of your meetings, I venture to predict that when + the censure is passed, peace will not be restored. . . Surely it is + unworthy, both of the Sorbonne and of theology, to make use of + equivocal and captious terms without giving any explanation of them. + Tell me, I entreat you, for the last time, fathers, what I must + believe in order to be a Catholic?’ ‘You must say,’ they all cried + at once, ‘that all the just have the _proximate power_.’ . . . ‘What + necessity can there be,’ I argued, ‘for using a word which has + neither authority nor definite meaning?’ ‘You are an opinionative + fellow,’ they replied. ‘You shall use the word, or you are a + heretic, and M. Arnauld also; for we are the majority, and if + necessary we can bring the Cordeliers into the field and carry the + day.’” + +The second Letter, entitled “Of Sufficient Grace,” is exactly in the same +vein:— + + “Just as I had sealed my last letter,” the writer opens, “I received + a visit from our old friend, M. N---, a most fortunate circumstance + for the gratification of my curiosity. For he is thoroughly informed + in the questions of the day, and up to all the secrets of the + Jesuits, at whose houses, including those of the leading men, he is a + constant visitor.” + +Using his friend conveniently as an informant, Pascal proceeds to explain +to the Provincial the question of sufficient grace as betwixt the +Jesuits, Jansenists, and Dominicans. The amusement of the Letter +consists in the manner in which he brings out, as before, the substantial +identity in opinion of the Dominicans and Jansenists, notwithstanding the +junction of the former with the Jesuits to oppress the latter. The +Jesuits hold the old Pelagian doctrine that grace is given to all, +dependent for its efficacy upon the free will of the recipient. This is +with them _sufficient grace_. The Jansenists follow St Augustine, and +will not allow any grace to be _sufficient_ which is not also +efficacious. What is the view of the Dominican?— + + “It is rather an odd one,” he says; “for while they agree with the + Jesuits in allowing a _sufficient grace_ given to all men, they + nevertheless hold that with this grace alone men cannot act, but + require further from God an _efficacious grace_ which determines + their will to action, and which is not given to all.” + +In short, _this grace_ is _sufficient_ without being so. It bears the +same name as the grace of the Jesuits, but in reality the Dominican +doctrine is that of the Jansenists, that men require efficacious grace in +order to pious action. What is the meaning of all this jumble of +opinion? Simply, that the Dominicans are too powerful to be quarrelled +with. The Jesuits are content that they should so far use the same +language with them. + + “They do not insist upon their denying the necessity of efficacious + grace. This would be to press them too far. People should not + tyrannise over their friends; and the Jesuits have really gained + enough. But the world is content with words; and so the name of + sufficient grace being received on all sides, though in different + senses, none except the most subtle theologians can dream that the + expression does not signify the same to the Jacobins and the Jesuits; + and the result will show that the latter are not the greatest dupes.” + +This conclusion becomes the subject of conversational by-play, similar to +that of the first Letter:— + + “I went straight,” adds the writer, “to the Jacobins, at whose door I + found a good friend of mine, a great Jansenist—for you must know I + have friends amongst all parties—who was inquiring for another + father, different from the one I wanted. But I persuaded him to + accompany me, and asked for one of my New Thomist friends. He was + delighted to see me again. ‘Ah, well,’ I said to him, ‘it seems it + is not enough that all men have a _proximate power_ by which they can + never act with effect; they must also have a _sufficient grace_, with + which they can act just as little. Is not this the opinion of your + school?’ ‘Yes,’ said the good father, ‘and I have this very morning + been maintaining this in the Sorbonne. I spoke my full half-hour; + and had it not been for the sand-glass, I bade fair to reverse the + unlucky proverb which circulates in Paris—“He votes with his cap + [merely by nodding his assent, without speaking] like a monk of the + Sorbonne.”’ ‘And what about your half-hour and your sand-glass?’ + said I. ‘Do they shape your discourses by a certain measure?’ + ‘Yes,’ said he, ‘for some days past.’ ‘And do they oblige you to + speak half an hour?’ ‘No, we may speak as shortly as we like.’ ‘But + not,’ I said, ‘as much as you like. What a capital rule for the + ignorant—what an excellent excuse for those who have nothing worth + saying! But to come to the point, my father—this grace which is + given to all, is it sufficient?’ ‘Yes,’ said he. ‘And yet it has no + effect without _efficacious_ grace?’ ‘Quite true,’ said he. ‘And + all men have the _sufficient_, but not all the _efficacious_?’ + ‘Exactly so.’ ‘That is to say,’ I urged, ‘that all have enough + grace, and yet not enough—that there is a grace which is + _sufficient_, and yet does not _suffice_. In good sooth, my father, + that is subtle doctrine. Have you forgotten, in quitting the world, + what the word _sufficient_ means? Do you not remember that it + includes everything necessary for acting? . . . How, then, do you + leave it to be said, that all men have _sufficient_ grace for acting, + while you confess that another grace is absolutely necessary for + acting, and that all have not this? . . . Is it a matter of + indifference to say that with sufficient grace we can really act?’ + ‘Indifference!’ said he; ‘why, it is _heresy_—formal _heresy_. The + necessity of efficacious grace for effective action is a point of + _faith_. It is heresy to deny this.’ ‘Where, then, are we now? and + what side must I take? If I deny sufficient grace, I am a Jansenist. + If I admit it, like the Jesuits, so that efficacious grace is no + longer necessary, I shall be a heretic, you say. And if I admit it, + as you do, so that efficacious grace is still necessary, why I sin + against common-sense, I am a blockhead, say the Jesuits. What can I + do in this dilemma, of being a blockhead, a heretic, or a Jansenist? + To what a strait are we come, if it is only Jansenists, after all, + who are at variance with neither faith nor reason, and who preserve + themselves both from folly and error?’” + +The Dominican, in short, is made to appear very ridiculous in his union +with the Jesuits. Clearly he fights on their side against the Jansenists +at the expense of his honesty and consistency. He is confounded by a +parable representing the absurdity of his position. + + “‘It is all very easy to talk,’ was all he could say in reply. ‘You + are an independent and private person; I am a monk, and in a + community. Do you not understand the difference? We depend upon + superiors; they depend upon others. They have promised our votes, + and what would you have me to do?’ We understood his allusion, and + remembered how a brother monk had been banished to Abbeville for a + similar cause.” + +The writer is disposed to pity the monk as he relates with a melancholy +tone how the Dominicans, who had from the time of St Thomas been such +ardent defenders of the doctrine of grace, had been entrapped into making +common cause with the Jesuits. The latter, availing themselves of the +confusion and ignorance introduced by the Reformation, had disseminated +their principles with great rapidity, and become masters of the popular +belief; while the poor Dominicans found themselves in the predicament of +either being denounced as Calvinists, and treated as the Jansenists then +were, or of falling into the use of a common language with the Jesuits. +What other course was open to them in such a case than that of saving the +truth at the expense of their own credit! and while admitting the name of +sufficient grace, denying, after all, that it was sufficient! That was +the real history of the business. + +This pitiful story of the New Thomist awakens a respondent pity in the +writer. But his Jansenist companion is roused to indignant +remonstrance:— + + “Do not flatter yourselves,” he exclaims, “that you have saved the + truth. If it had no other protector than you, it would have perished + in such feeble hands. You have received into the Church the name of + its enemy, and this is to receive the enemy itself. Names are + inseparable from things. If the term _sufficient_ grace be once + admitted, you may talk finely about only understanding thereby a + grace insufficient; but this will be of no avail. Your explanation + will be held as odious in the world, where men speak far more + sincerely of less important things. The Jesuits will triumph. It + will be their sufficient grace, and not yours—which is only a + name—which will be accepted. It will be theirs, which is the reverse + of yours, that will become an article of faith.” + +In vain the New Thomist proclaims his readiness to suffer martyrdom +rather than allow this, and to maintain the great doctrine of St Thomas +to the death. His allusion to the importance of the doctrine only calls +forth more severely the indignant eloquence of the Jansenist, and he +brings the Letter to a close in a passage which forestalls the graver and +loftier tone of the later Letters. + + “Confess, my father, that your order has received an honour which it + ill discharges. It abandons that grace which has been intrusted to + it, and which has never been abandoned since the creation of the + world. That victorious grace which was expected by patriarchs, + predicted by prophets, introduced by Jesus Christ, preached by St + Paul, explained by St Augustine, the greatest of the Fathers, + embraced by his followers, confirmed by St Bernard, the last of the + Fathers, sustained by St Thomas, the Angel of the Schools, + transmitted by him to your order, maintained by so many of your + fathers, and so gloriously defended by your monks under Popes Clement + and Paul—that efficacious grace which was left in your hands as a + sacred deposit, that it might always, in a sacred and enduring order, + find preachers to proclaim it to the world till the end of time—finds + itself deserted for interests utterly unworthy. It is time that + other hands should arm themselves in its quarrel. It is time that + God should raise up intrepid disciples to the Doctor of Grace, who, + strangers to the entanglements of the world, should serve God for the + sake of God. Grace may no longer count the Dominicans among her + defenders; but she will never want defenders, for she creates them + for herself by her own almighty strength. She demands pure and + disengaged hearts, nay, she herself purifies and delivers them from + worldly interests inconsistent with the truths of the Gospel. + Consider well, my father, and take heed lest God remove the + candle-stick from its place, and leave you in darkness and dishonour + to punish the coldness which you have shown in a cause so important + to His Church.” + +The first two Letters are closely connected. They deal with the special +question between Arnauld and the Sorbonne. A short “Reply from the +Provincial” is interposed between the second and third. This reply may +be supposed to be a part of the device employed by Pascal to arouse +public attention and circulate the Letters. The friend in the country +tells how they have excited universal interest. Everybody has seen them, +heard them, and believed them. They are valued not merely by +theologians, but men of the world, and ladies, have found them +intelligible and delightful reading. This is no exaggerated picture of +the sensation which they produced. Their success was prodigious, and +increased with every successive Letter. In an atmosphere charged with +the theological spirit, yet wearied with the dulness of theological +controversy, Pascal’s mode of treating the subject came as a breath of +new life. Here was one who was evidently no mere theologian—who knew +human nature as well as Divine truth. His clear and penetrating +intellect saw at once the many aspects of the dispute lying deep in the +human interests and passions engaged; and as he touched these one by one, +and by subtle and vivid strokes brought them to the front—as Molinist, +New Thomist, and Jansenist appeared upon the scene, and showed in their +natural characters what play of dramatic life was moving under all the +dulness of the debate at the Sorbonne—there was a universal outcry of +welcome. The Letters passed from hand to hand. The post-office reaped a +harvest of profit; copies went through the whole kingdom. + + “‘You can have no idea how much I am obliged to you for the Letter + you sent me,’ writes a friend to a lady; ‘it is so very ingenious, + and so nicely written. It narrates without narrating. It clears up + the most intricate matters possible; its raillery is exquisite; it + enlightens those who know little of the subject, and imparts double + delight to those who understand it. It is an admirable apology; and + if they would take it, a delicate and innocent censure. In short, + the Letter displays so much art, so much spirit, and so much + judgment, that I burn with curiosity to know who wrote it.’” + +This is the report of the Provincial; and if it is Pascal himself who +speaks, he had little idea that his own _badinage_ would be echoed by +grave critics, in after-years, as not in excess of the actual merit of +his productions. “The best comedies of Molière,” says Voltaire, “have +not more wit than the first Provincial Letters.” It must be admitted +that the brightness of the wit is somewhat dimmed after the lapse of two +centuries. Even the genius of Pascal fails to lighten all the tortuous +absurdities of controversies so purely verbal, and there is an occasional +baldness in the clever device of pitting Molinist, New Thomist, and +Jansenist against one another. The professed artlessness of the speeches +is at times too apparent. But nothing, upon the whole, can be finer than +the address with which this is done; the changes of scene and the turns +of the dialogue are managed with admirable felicity; there is an +exquisite fitness and Socratic point in all the evolutions of the +argument, which we feel even now when we see so clearly behind the +scenes, and know that Molinist and New Thomist must have had a good deal +more to say for themselves. We have only to imagine the atmosphere of +the Sorbonne, or the wider social atmosphere throughout France in the +seventeenth century, impregnated to its core by a subtle controversial +ecclesiasticism, to realise the impression made by “the Small Letters.” +The question everywhere was, Who could have written them? There seems at +first to have been no suspicion of Pascal. He had previously only been +known as a scientific writer; and the secret was, of course, jealously +guarded. Although planned at Port Royal des Champs, he did not remain +there while engaged in their composition. He repaired, as we have +already said, to Paris, and after a while took up his abode “at a little +inn opposite to the Jesuit College of Clermont, just behind the +Sorbonne.” Here he lodged with his brother-in-law, M. Périer, who had +lately come to Paris; and here, too, the latter was visited by Père +Defrétat, a Jesuit and distant relative, who came to tell him that the +suspicions of the Society were beginning to point to Pascal. All the +while Pascal was busy in the room below; and, “behind the closed curtains +of the bed by the side of which they were talking, a score of fresh +impressions of the seventh Letter were laid out to dry.” {132} + +Pascal rejoiced in his incognito. It was not till the controversy had +somewhat advanced that he assumed the pseudonym Louis de Montalte. The +third Letter he closed mysteriously with the letters E. A. A. B. P. A. F. +D. E. P., which have been interpreted to mean “Et ancien ami Blaise +Pascal, Auvergnat, fils de Étienne Pascal.” There can be no doubt that +he took a distinct pleasure in the anonymous wounds which he inflicted. +He had a certain love of controversy from the beginning, a feeling of +self-assertion when he took up a cause, and a personal ambition to +triumph in it, which carried him forward, and which come out with almost +painful vividness in the closing letters. + +The rage of the Jesuits may be imagined. At first they hardly knew +whether to laugh with the world or to be indignant. The first Letter was +read in the dining-hall of the Sorbonne itself. Some were amused, others +greatly provoked. But, as the Letters proceeded, there was no room for +any feeling but indignation. It was so difficult to set forth any direct +reply to productions mingling such a subtle irony with grave attack. +They could only say of them, as they afterwards more formally did—_Les +menteurs immortelles_. Of the first Letters it is said that 6000 copies +were printed; but, as they were easily passed from hand to hand, this +gives no idea of the numbers who actually read them. Their fame grew +with each successive issue. More than 10,000 copies were printed of the +seventeenth Letter; and editions of the earlier ones were so frequently +reprinted, that it can no longer be told which belonged really to the +first edition. + +It is impossible, and would be useless, for us to attempt any description +of the whole series of Letters. We have thought it right to dwell at +some length on the first two, because they enter so directly into the +controversy betwixt Pascal’s friends and the Sorbonne, and because they +are really, in some respects, the cleverest, if not the most valuable. +The third Letter, on the “Censure of M. Arnauld,” and again, the three +concluding Letters, {133} are closely connected with the first two. +Their object, in one form or another, is the defence of the Jansenist +doctrine, and of the Port Royalists, as its supporters. The intervening +twelve Letters stand quite by themselves. They open up the whole subject +of the moral theology of the Jesuits, and constitute the most powerful +assault probably ever directed against it. The subject is one which, in +a volume like this, we can only touch upon, and this more with the view +of drawing out the marked literary features of Pascal’s assault, than of +meddling with the merits of the controversy which he waged so +relentlessly. In the meantime, we must wind up, as briefly as possible, +the more personal aspects of the controversy. + +Between the date of the second and the third Letter, the process before +the Sorbonne had been finished, and M. Arnauld’s censure pronounced. The +third Letter deals with this censure. The writer represents the long +preparation for it, the manner in which the Jansenists had been denounced +as the vilest of heretics, “the cabals, factions, errors, schisms, and +outrages with which they have been so long charged.” Who would not have +thought, in such circumstances, that the “blackest heresy imaginable” +would have come forth under the condemning touch of the Sorbonne? All +Christendom waited for the result. It was true that M. Arnauld had +backed up his opinions by the clearest quotations from the Fathers, +expressing apparently the very things with which he had been charged. +But points of difference imperceptible to ordinary eyes would no doubt be +made clear under the penetration of so many learned doctors. Thoughts of +this kind kept everybody in a state of breathless suspense waiting for +the result. “But, alas! how has the expectation been balked! Whether +the Molinist doctors have not deigned to lower themselves to the level of +instructing us, or for some other secret reason, they have done nothing +else than pronounce the following words: ‘This proposition is rash, +impious, blasphemous, deserving of anathema, and heretical!’” + +It was not to be wondered at, in the circumstances, that people were in a +bad humour, and were beginning to think that after all there may have +been no real heresy in M. Arnauld’s proposition. A heresy which could +not be defined, except in general terms of abuse, seemed at the least +doubtful. The writer is puzzled, as usual, and has recourse to “one of +the most intelligent of the Sorbonnists” who had been so far neutral in +the discussion, and whom he asks to point out the difference betwixt M. +Arnauld and the Fathers. The “intelligent” Sorbonnist is amused at the +_naïveté_ of the inquiry. “Do you fancy,” he says, “that if they could +have found any difference they would not have pointed it out?” But why, +then, pursues the ingenuous inquirer, should they in such a case pass +censure?— + + “‘How little you understand the tactics of the Jesuits!’ is the + answer. ‘How few will ever look into the matter beyond the fact that + M. Arnauld is condemned! Let it be only cried in the streets, “Here + is the condemnation of M. Arnauld!” This is enough to give the + Jesuits a triumph with the unthinking populace. This is the way in + which they live and prosper. Now it is by a catechism in which a + child is made to condemn their opponents; now by a procession, in + which Sufficient Grace leads Efficacious Grace in triumph; and + by-and-by by a comedy, in which the devils carry off Jansen; + sometimes by an almanac; and now by this censure.’ The truth is, + that it is M. Arnauld himself, and not merely his opinions, that are + obnoxious. Even M. le Moine himself admitted ‘that the same + proposition would have been orthodox in the mouth of any other; it is + only as coming from M. Arnauld that the Sorbonne have condemned it.’ + . . . Here is a new species of heresy,” concludes the writer. “It + is not the sentiments of M. Arnauld that are heretical, but only his + person. It is a case of personal heresy. He is not a heretic for + anything he has said or written, but simply because he is M. Arnauld. + This is all they can say against him. Whatever he may do, unless he + cease to exist he will never be a good Catholic. The grace of St + Augustine will never be the true grace while he defends it. It would + be all right were he only to combat it. This would be a sure stroke, + and almost the only means of establishing it and destroying Molinism. + Such is the fatality of any opinions which he embraces.” + +In the three concluding Letters, as we have said, Pascal reverts to the +special subject of Jansenism and Port Royal. These Letters are +considerably longer than the opening ones. It is of the sixteenth, in +fact, that he makes the well-known remark, that “it was very long because +he had no time to make it shorter.” Upon the whole, also, these Letters +are less happy in style and manner. It is evident that Pascal, if he +gave blows which made his opponents and the opponents of Port Royal +wince, also received some bruises in return. The shamelessness of the +attacks made upon his friends and himself, contemptible as they were in +their nature, left scars upon a mind and temper so sensitive and reserved +as his. The “insufferable audacity” with which “holy nuns and their +directors” had been charged with disbelieving the mysteries of the faith +was “a crime which God alone was capable of punishing.” To bear such a +charge required a degree of humility equal to that of the nuns +themselves—to believe it, “a degree of wickedness equal to that of their +wretched defamers.” As for himself, it seemed enough to say of him that +he belonged to Port Royal, as if it were only at Port Royal that there +could be found those capable of defending the purity of Christian +morality. He knew and honoured the work of the pious recluses who had +retired to that monastery, although “he had never had the honour of +belonging to them.” And in the seventeenth Letter he says:— + + “I have no more to say than that I am not a member of that community, + and to refer you to my letters, in which I have declared that ‘I am a + private individual;’ and again in so many words that ‘I am not of + Port Royal.’ . . . You may touch Port Royal if you choose, but you + shall not touch me. You may turn people out of the Sorbonne, but + that will not turn me out of my lodging.” + +These statements, of course, are to be received as so far a part of the +disguise under which Pascal pursued his task. It was true that he had no +official connection with Port Royal, that he was under no rule to live in +its retirements, and that he was only occasionally found there. He was +singularly free, “without engagements, entanglement, relationship, or +business of any kind.” All the same he was a Port Royalist in sympathy +and community of opinion. The interests of Port Royal were his +interests, and its friends his friends. His own sister was one of its +zealous inmates. There is a certain force, therefore, in the taunt that +Pascal, in “unmasking the duplicity of the Jesuits, did not hesitate to +imitate it.” His statements are not beyond the licence accorded to those +who would drive an enemy off the scent, and shelter themselves within an +anonymity which they have chosen to assume; but they are none the less +artful and misleading. They justify themselves as the fence of the +_littérateur_, hardly as the armour of the moralist. But the truth is, +that long before this Pascal had warmed to his work as a +controversialist. He was determined to give no advantage, and to spare +no weapons within the bounds of decency, that might make the Jesuits feel +the force of his assault. Their accusation of heresy especially +exasperated him. + + “When was I ever seen at Charenton?” {138} he says in the seventeenth + Letter, addressed to the Jesuit Father Annat. “When have I failed in + my presence at mass, or in my Christian duty to my parish church? + What act of union with heretics, or of schism with the Church, can + you lay to my charge? What council have I contradicted? What Papal + constitution have I violated? You _must answer_, father; else—you + know what I mean.” + +The Jansenist doctrine of grace, as we have already explained, approached +indefinitely the doctrine of Calvin. Both were derived from Augustine; +and St Thomas, as his interpreter, handed on to the sixteenth and +seventeenth centuries the precious deposit. The line of thought was +continuous, and it was not easy to break it at Calvin, and isolate him as +a heretic, while holding to other teachers as Catholic and orthodox. +This was the dilemma of the New Thomists, so pithily expressed by one of +themselves in the second Letter. But it was also Pascal’s own dilemma; +and the consciousness which he and his friends had of the nearness of the +Jansenist doctrine to that of Calvin, made them all the more sensitive +under the charge of heresy. The Jesuits had art enough to see the +advantages which came from this association. The Port Royalists and +Pascal failed in the magnanimity which clung to a truth no less because +it was identified with an abused name. They insisted upon distinguishing +between the tenets of Jansen and Calvinism. If what the Papal decree +meant and the Sorbonne meant in the condemnation of the Jansenist +proposition was that they condemned the doctrines of Calvin, then they +were all agreed.—Jesuits, Jansenists, and Port Royalists. + + “Was that all you meant, father?” asks Pascal in his concluding + Letter. “Was it only the error of Calvin that you were so anxious to + get condemned under the name of ‘the sense of Jansen’? Why did you + not tell us this sooner? you might have saved yourself a world of + trouble; for we were all ready without the aid of bulls or briefs to + join with you in condemning that error. . . . Now, when you have + come the length of declaring that the error which you oppose is the + heresy of Calvin, it must be apparent to every one that they [the + Port Royalists] are innocent of all error; for so decidedly hostile + are they to this, the only error with which you charge them, that + they protest by their discourses, by their books, by every mode, in + short, in which they can testify their sentiments, that they condemn + that heresy with their whole heart, and in the same manner in which + it has been condemned by the Thomists, whom you acknowledge without + scruple to be Catholics.” + +The professed point of difference stated in the same Letter—namely, that +the Thomists and Sorbonnists (and of course the Port Royalists with them) +held that efficacious grace is resistible, while Calvin held that it was +irresistible—may or may not hold in reference to special expressions of +Calvin. But there is nothing, upon the whole, stronger in Calvin than +there is in Augustine on the subject of grace; and on the other hand, an +“efficacious grace,” which is “resistible”—which the human heart can +accept or repel _at will_—seems open to all the ironical play which +Pascal directs so skilfully in his first Letters against the Jesuit +doctrine of a _sufficient_ grace which is not yet sufficient. The truth +is, that apart from verbal subtleties, which Pascal could handle no less +familiarly, only far more skilfully, than his adversaries, there is no +rational position intermediate between the Pelagian doctrine (which is +also substantially the Aristotelian) of free will and moral habit, and +the Augustinian doctrine of Divine grace and spiritual inspiration. The +source of character is either from within the character itself, which has +power to choose good and to be good if it will, or it is from a higher +source—the grace of God, and the power of a Divine ordination. These are +the only real lines of controversy. The Christian thinker may decline +controversy on such a subject altogether, acknowledging that the mystery +of character is in its roots beyond our ken,—that we know not, and in the +nature of the case cannot know, where the Human ends and the Divine +begins. In such a case there is no room for argument. But we cannot +with consistency step off one line on to the other. In other words, we +cannot logically abuse Calvin while we hold with Augustine, or profess to +revere St Thomas while we abuse Jansen. + +But it is more than time to turn from this side of the ‘Provincial +Letters.’ This was the controversy out of which they sprang—which +mingles itself most with the personality of Pascal—and hence it has +claimed a somewhat detailed treatment. The great subject to which the +intervening and chief portion of the Letters is directed is not, indeed, +more important in itself, but it is more diversified, and more +practically interesting. Here, however, Pascal was more obviously +performing a task than in the other Letters. He was speaking less out of +his heart. Having grappled with the Jesuits, and noticed their tactics +in the affair of the Sorbonne, he is led to look into their whole system. +He takes up their books and studies them, in part at least; while his +friends Nicole and Arnauld also study them for him. And the result is +the remarkable and memorable assault contained in his thirteen +Letters—from the fourth to the sixteenth—directed against all the main +principles of the Jesuit system. + +It would lead us quite away from our purpose to enter into the range of +this great controversy, or to endeavour to estimate its value, or the +merits of the attack and defence on particular points. The subject is +one by itself, more or less entering into the whole question of morals, +and especially the immense fabric of casuistry or moral theology built up +by successive teachers in the Jesuit schools. Trained, as he was, a +devout disciple of the Roman Church, enthusiastic on behalf of its +doctrines and preachers, Pascal had apparently no knowledge of the +details of Jesuit doctrine and morality before he began his task of +inquiry and assault. Austere and simple in his own principles of virtue, +direct and unbending in his modes of action, he was evidently appalled by +the study of the Jesuit system, and the endless complexities of +compromise and evasion which it presented. In seizing, as he did +everywhere, upon the immoral aspects of the system, and touching them +with the most graphic colours of exposure, he cannot be said to be +unfair; for the materials with which he dealt were all abundant in their +writings. His quotations may be sometimes taken at random, and may set +forth, without any of the alleviating shades surrounding them in their +proper context, special points as parts of a general sequence of thought. +They were, no doubt, often furnished to him by Nicole or Arnauld, who +hunted them through the immense volumes of casuistical divinity in which +they were contained. But there is no reason to suppose that in any case +he has been guilty of misquotation, or that he has attributed sentiments +to the Jesuit doctors not to be found in them. This is very much his own +statement:— + + “I have been asked if I have myself read all the books which I have + quoted. I answer, No. If I had done so, I must have passed a great + part of my life in reading very bad books; but I have read Escobar + twice through, and I have employed some of my friends in reading the + others. But I have not made use of a single passage without having + myself read it in the book from which it is cited, without having + examined the subject of which it treats, and without having read what + went before and followed, so that I might run no risk of quoting an + objection as an answer, which would have been blameworthy and + unfair.” + +No doubt this is true. There is all, and more than all, that Pascal +quoted to be found in the Jesuit writings, and his own language is not +too strong in speaking of much that he quotes as “abominable.” +Notwithstanding, it may be said that the effect of his representation is +a certain unfairness towards the Jesuits. He presses them at a cruel +advantage when he insists upon developing from his own point of view, or +still more from the mouth of some of their too simple followers, all the +practical consequences of their special rules. The system of casuistry +was one not solely of Jesuitical invention. It was the necessary +outgrowth of the radical Roman principle of Confession. Nay, it +flourished to some extent within the Protestant Church itself in the +seventeenth century, as the writings of two very different men, Jeremy +Taylor and Richard Baxter, show. Once admit the principle of directing +the conscience by external rather than internal authority, and you lay a +foundation upon which any amount of folly, and even crime, may be built +up. This was the general principle of Jesuitism as a system of +education; but it came to it from the Church which Pascal, no less than +the Jesuits, revered. Nay, it was in its general character a principle +as characteristic of Port Royal as of Loyola and his followers. There is +the enormous difference, no doubt, that the ethics of Port Royal were +comparatively faithful to the essential principles of morality which +Nature and the Gospel alike teach—that its practical excesses were quite +in a different direction from the laxity of the Jesuits. But two things +are to be remembered, not in favour of the Jesuits, but in explanation of +their excesses: 1st, that they aimed, as Pascal himself points out, at +governing the world, and not merely a sect—that their whole idea of the +Church in relation to the world was different from that of the Port +Royalists; and 2d, that their system of morals not merely rested on a +wrong and dangerous principle (which Pascal’s no less did), but had been +endlessly developed in their schools by many inferior hands. This was +Pascal’s great weapon against them, and so far it was quite a legitimate +weapon, as he himself claimed. As none of their books could appear +without sanction, the Order was more or less responsible for all the +frightful principles set forth in some of these books. All the same, it +is not to be presumed that such a system of moral, or rather immoral, +consequences was deliberately designed by the Society. Pascal himself +exempts them from such a charge. “Their object,” he says, “is not the +corruption of manners; . . . but they believe it for the good of religion +that they should _govern all consciences_, and so they have evangelical +or severe maxims for managing some sorts of people, while whole +multitudes of lax casuists are provided for the multitude that prefer +laxity.” {144a} The Jesuit system of morality, in short, was the growth +of the Jesuit principle of accommodation, added on to the Roman principle +of external authority. Looking at morality entirely from without, as an +artificial mode of regulating life and society for the supreme good of +the Church, the Jesuit casuists were driven, under the necessities of +such a system, from point to point, till all essential moral distinction +was lost in the mechanical manipulations of their schools. Whatever +happened, no man or woman was to be lost to the Church; the complications +of human interest and passion were to be brought within its fold and +smoothed into some sort of decent seeming, rather than cast beyond its +pale and made the prey of its enemies. {144b} The task was a hopeless +one. In the pages of Pascal the Jesuits too obviously make a deplorable +business both of religion and morality. But they were as much the +victims as the authors of a system which Rome had sanctioned, and which +came directly from the claims which it made to govern the world not +merely by spiritual suasion, but by external influence. Jesuitism may be +bad, and the Jesuit morality exposed by Pascal abominable, but the one +and the other are the natural outgrowth of a Church which had become a +mechanism for the regulation of human conduct, rather than a spiritual +power addressing freely the human heart and conscience. + +Our space will not admit of an analysis of the thirteen Letters dealing +with the Jesuits, and we can hardly give any quotations from them. +Suffice it to say, that Pascal passes in the fourth Letter to a direct +assault upon the Society. “Nothing can equal the Jesuits,” the Letter +begins. “I have seen Jacobins, doctors, and all sorts of people; but +such a visit as I have made today baffles everything, and was necessary +to complete my knowledge of the world.” He then describes his visit to a +very clever Jesuit, accompanied by his trusty Jansenist friend, and +gradually unfolds from the mouth of the former the whole system of moral +theology which had grown up in the Jesuit schools,—their notions of +“actual grace,” or the necessity of a special conscious knowledge that an +act is evil, and ought to be avoided, before we can be said to be guilty +of sin in committing the act; their famous doctrines of _probabilism_ and +of _directing the intention_, and all the consequences springing out of +them. Nothing can be more ingenious than the manner in which the Jesuit +is led forward to unfold point after point of his hateful system, as if +it were one of the greatest boons which had ever been invented for +mankind, until from concession to concession he is plunged into the most +horrible conclusions, and the Jansenist can stand the disclosures no +longer, but breaks forth in the end of the tenth Letter into a powerful +and eloquent denunciation of the doctrines to which he has been +listening. + +Any lighter vein that may have lingered in the Letters is abandoned from +this point. Pascal ceases to address his friend in the country; the +playful interchange that sprang from the idea of a third party, to whom +Pascal was supposed to be merely reporting what he had heard, occurs no +more. He turns to the Jesuit fathers directly, and addresses them, as if +unable any longer to restrain his indignation, commencing the eleventh +Letter with an admirable defence of his previous tone, and of the extent +to which he had used the weapon of ridicule in assailing them, and +passing on to reiterate his charges, and to repel the calumnies with +which they had assailed him and his Port Royalist friends. The reader +may weary, perhaps, for a little, as he threads his way through the +successive accusations, and the monotonous train of evil principles which +underlies them all, more or less. He may wish that Pascal had gone to +the roots of the system more completely, and had laid bare its germinal +falsehood, instead of heaping detail upon detail, and always adding a +darker hue to the picture which he draws. But any such mode of treatment +would not half so well have served his purpose. His audience were not +prepared for any philosophy of exposure, still less for any attack upon +the essential principles of the Church; he himself did not see how the +successive laxities which he fixes with his poignant satire, or sets in +the light of his withering scorn, spring from a vicious conception of +Christianity and of the office of the Church. He does what he does, +however, with exquisite effect; and the Jesuit Order, many and powerful +as have been its opponents, never before nor since felt itself more +keenly and unanswerably assailed. Many of them were forced to laugh at +the picture of their own follies, and the immoral nonsense which +distilled from the lips of Father Bauny and others, in explanation or +defence of their practices. “Read that,” says the confidential Jesuit +who expounds to Pascal their system: “it is ‘The Summary of Sins,’ by +Father Bauny; the fifth edition, you see, which shows that it is a good +book. ‘In order to sin,’ says Father Bauny, ‘it is necessary to know +that the _thing we wish to do is not good_.’” “A capital commencement,” +I remarked. “Yet,” said he, “only think how far envy will carry some +people. It was on this very passage that M. Hallier, before he became +one of our friends, quizzed Father Bauny, saying of him ‘_Ecce qui tollit +peccata mundi_—Behold the man who taketh away the sins of the world.’” +{147} Then after an elaborate description of all that goes to make a +sin— + + “‘O my dear sir,’ cried I, ‘what a blessing this will be to some + friends of my acquaintance! You have never, perhaps, in all your + life met with people who have fewer sins to account for! In the + first place, they never think of God at all, still less of praying to + Him; so that, according to M. le Moine, they are still in a state of + baptismal innocence. They have never had a thought of loving God, or + of being contrite for their sins; so that, according to Father Annat, + they have never committed sin through the want of charity and + penitence. . . . I had always supposed that the less a man thought + of God the more he sinned; but from what I see now, if one could only + succeed in bringing himself not to think of God at all, everything + would be peace with him in all time coming. Away with your + half-and-half sinners who have some love for virtue! They will be + damned every one of them. But as for your out-and-out sinners, + hardened and without mixture, thorough and determined in their evil + courses, hell is no place for them. They have cheated the devil by + stern devotion to his service!’” {148} + +It is in hits like these, everywhere scattered throughout the earlier +letters, to which no translation can do justice, and which lose half +their edge by being separated from their context, that the wit of Pascal +shines. A more delicate, and at the same time more scathing irony, +cannot be conceived. He hits with the lightest stroke, and in the most +natural manner, yet his lash cuts the flesh, and leaves an intolerable +smart. All that could be said in answer was, that his representations +were lies. They were conscious exaggerations, no doubt, as all satirical +representations are. This is of their very nature. But the extent to +which they told, and the bitterness of the feeling which they excited at +the time, and have continued to excite amongst the Jesuits and their +friends, show how much truth there was in them. Nothing can be more +pitiful and less satisfactory than mere complaints of their falsehood. +Such complaints were hardly to have been expected from any other quarter +than the Jesuits themselves. Yet even Chateaubriand, in his new-born +zeal for the Church, could say of their author, “Pascal is only a +calumniator of genius. He has left us an immortal lie.” + +Of the graver part of the Letters, the following are the only extracts +that our space will permit:— + + + +JESUIT LAXITY AND CHRISTIAN INDIGNATION. + + + “Such is the way in which our teachers have discharged men from the + ‘painful’ obligation of actually loving God. And so advantageous a + doctrine is this, that our Fathers Annat, Pintereau, Le Moine, and A. + Sirmond even, have defended it vigorously when assailed by any one. + You have only to consult their answers in the ‘Moral Theology;’ that + of Father Pintereau, in particular (second part), will enable you to + judge of the value of this dispensation by the price which it has + cost, even the blood of Jesus. This is the crown of such a + doctrine.” (A quotation is then given from Father Pintereau to the + effect that it is a characteristic of the new Evangelical law, in + contrast to the Judaical, that “God has lightened the troublesome and + arduous obligation of exercising an act of perfect contrition in + order to be justified.”) “‘O father,’ said I, ‘no patience can stand + this any longer. One cannot hear without horror such sentiments as I + have been listening to.’ ‘They are not my sentiments,’ said the + monk. ‘I know that well; but you have expressed no aversion to them; + and far from detesting the authors of such maxims, you cherish esteem + for them. Do you not fear that your consent will make you a + participator in their guilt? Was it not sufficient to allow men so + many forbidden things under cover of your palliations? Was it + necessary to afford them the occasion of committing crimes that even + you cannot excuse by the facility and assurance of absolution which + you offer them? . . . The licence which your teachers have assumed + of tampering with the most holy rules of Christian conduct amounts to + a total subversion of the Divine law. They violate the great + commandment which embraces the law and the prophets; they strike at + the very heart of piety; they take away the spirit which giveth life. + They say that the love of God is not necessary to salvation; they + even go the length of professing that this dispensation from loving + God is the special privilege which Jesus Christ has brought into the + world. This is the very climax of impiety. The price of the blood + of Jesus, the purchase for us of a dispensation from loving Him! + Before the incarnation we were under the necessity of loving God. + But since God has so loved the world as to give His only Son for it, + the world, thus redeemed by Him, is discharged from loving Him! + Strange theology of our time!—to take away the anathema pronounced by + St Paul against those “who love not the Lord Jesus Christ;” to blot + out the saying of St John, that “he that loveth not abideth in + death;” and the words of Jesus Christ Himself, “He that loveth me not + keepeth not my commandments!” In this manner those who have never + loved God in life are rendered worthy of enjoying Him throughout + eternity. Behold the mystery of iniquity accomplished! Open your + eyes, my father; and if you have remained untouched by the other + distortions of your Casuists, let this last by its excess compel you + to abandon them.’” {150a} + + + +DEFENCE OF RIDICULE AS A WEAPON IN CONTROVERSY. + + + “What, my fathers! must the imaginations of your doctors pass for + faithful verities? Must we not expose the sayings of Escobar, {150b} + and the fantastic and unchristian statements of others, without being + accused of laughing at religion? Is it possible you have dared to + repeat anything so unreasonable? and have you no fear that in blaming + me for ridiculing your absurdities, you were merely furnishing me + with a fresh subject of arousing attack, and of pointing out more + clearly that I have not found in your books any subject of laughter + which is not in itself intensely ridiculous; and that in making a + jest of your moral maxims, I am as far from making a jest of holy + things as the doctrine of your Casuists distant from the holy + doctrine of the Gospel? In truth, sirs, there is a vast difference + between laughing at religion and laughing at those who profane it by + their extravagant opinions. It were an impiety to fail in respect + for the great truths which the Divine Spirit has revealed; but it + would be no less impiety of another kind to fail in contempt for + falsehoods which the spirit of man has opposed to them. . . . Just + as Christian truths are worthy of love and respect, the errors which + oppose them are worthy of contempt and hatred: for as there are two + things in the truths of our religion—a divine beauty which renders + them lovable, and a holy majesty which renders them venerable; so + there are two things in such errors—an impiety which makes them + horrible, and an impertinence which renders them ridiculous.” {151a} + +Many examples from the Scriptures and the Fathers are then quoted in +defence of the practice of directing ridicule against error; and he +closes with a singularly appropriate passage from Tertullian: “Nothing is +more due to vanity than laughter; it is the Truth properly that has a +right to laugh, because she is cheerful—and to make sport of her enemies, +because she is sure of victory.” + + “Do you not think, my fathers, that this passage is singularly + applicable to our subject? The letters which I have hitherto written + are ‘only a little sport before the real combat.’ As yet I have been + only playing with the foils, and ‘rather indicating the wounds that + might be given you than inflicting any.’ I have merely exposed your + sayings to the light, without commenting on them. ‘If they have + excited laughter, it is only because they are so laughable in + themselves.’ These sayings come upon us with such surprise, it is + impossible to help laughing at them; for nothing produces laughter + more than surprising disproportion between what one hears and what + one expects. In what other way could the most of these matters be + treated? for, as Tertullian says, ‘To treat them seriously would be + to sanction them.’” {151b} + + + +APPEAL AGAINST THE JESUITS. + + + “Too long have you deceived the world, and abused the confidence + which men have put in your impostures. It is high time to vindicate + the reputation of so many people whom you have calumniated; for what + innocence can be so generally acknowledged as not to suffer + contamination from the daring aspersion of a society of men scattered + throughout the world, who, under religious habits, cover irreligious + minds; who perpetrate crimes as they concoct slanders—not against, + but in conformity with, their own maxims? No one can blame me, + surely, for having destroyed the confidence which you might otherwise + have inspired, since it is far more just to vindicate for so many + good people whom you have decried, the reputation for piety they + deserved, than to leave you a reputation for sincerity which you have + never merited. And as the one could not be done without the other, + how important was it to make the world understand what you really + are. This is what I have begun to do; but it will require time to + complete the work. The world, however, shall hear of you, my + fathers, and all your policy will not avail to shelter you. The very + efforts you make to ward off the blow will only serve to convince the + least enlightened that you are afraid, and that, smitten in your own + consciences by my charges, you have had recourse to every expedient + to prevent exposure.” {152} + +The effect of the ‘Provincial Letters’ was not only to alarm the Jesuits, +but the Church. The scandal of their exposure was so deeply felt, that +the _curés_ of Paris and Rouen appointed committees to investigate the +accuracy of Pascal’s quotations, and the result of their investigation +was entirely in Pascal’s favour. This led ultimately to the matter being +carried before a General Assembly of the clergy of Paris, which, however, +declined to give any formal decision. In the meantime, an ‘Apology for +the Casuists’ was published by a Jesuit of the name of Pirot, of such a +character as to increase rather than abate the scandal, and a new +controversy gathered around this publication. The Sorbonne took up the +question, and, after examination, condemned Pirot’s Apology (July 1658) +as they had formerly done Arnauld’s propositions, and ultimately it was +included by Rome in the ‘Index Expurgatorius,’ along with the ‘Provincial +Letters,’ to which it was designed as a reply. While the question was +before the Sorbonne, the _curés_ of Paris published various writings, +under the name of ‘Facta,’ in support of the conclusions to which they +had come. These writings were prepared in concert with Pascal and his +friends, and the second and fifth are ascribed entirely to his pen. It +is even said that he looked upon the latter, in which he drew a parallel +betwixt the Jesuits and Calvinists (to the disadvantage of the +Protestants), as the _best thing he ever did_. {153} Long after Pascal’s +death (in 1694) an elaborate answer appeared, by Father Daniel, to the +‘Provincial Letters,’ under the title of ‘Entretiens de Cléandre et +d’Eudoxe sur les Lettres au Provincial;’ but notwithstanding a certain +amount of learning and apparent candour, the reply made no impression +upon the public. Even the Jesuits themselves felt it to be a failure. +“Father Daniel,” it was said, “professed to have reason and truth on his +side; but his adversary had in his favour what goes much farther with +men,—the arms of ridicule and pleasantry.” As late as 1851 an edition of +the ‘Letters’ appeared by the Abbé Maynard, accompanied by a professed +refutation of their misstatements. But the truth is, Pascal’s work is +one of those which admit of no adequate refutation. Even if it be +granted that he has occasionally made the most of a quotation, and +brought points together which, taken separately in their connection, have +not the offensive meaning attributed to them, this touches but little the +reader who has enjoyed their exquisite raillery or has been moved by +their indignant denunciation. The real force of the Letters lies in +their wit and eloquence—their mingled comedy and invective. They may be +parried or resented—they can never be refuted. + +We have already quoted Voltaire’s saying, “The best comedies of Molière +have not more wit than the first Provincial Letters.” “Bossuet,” he +added, “has nothing more sublime than the concluding ones.” They were +regarded by him as “models of eloquence and pleasantry,” as the “first +work of genius” that appeared in French prose. When Bossuet himself was +asked of what work he would most wish to have been the author, he +answered, “The ‘Provincial Letters.’” Madame de Sévigné writes of them +(Dec. 21, 1689): “How charming they are! . . . Is it possible to have a +more perfect style, an irony finer, more delicate, more natural, more +worthy of the Dialogues of Plato? . . . And what seriousness of tone, +what solidity, what eloquence in the last eight Letters!” Our Gibbon +attributed to the frequent perusal of them his own mastery of “grave and +temperate irony.” Boileau pronounced them “unsurpassed” in ancient or +modern prose. Encomiums could hardly go higher, and yet the language of +Perrault is in a still higher strain: “There is more wit in these +eighteen Letters than in Plato’s Dialogues; more delicate and artful +raillery than in those of Lucian; and more strength and ingenuity of +reasoning than in the orations of Cicero.” Their style especially is +beyond all praise. It has “never been surpassed, nor perhaps equalled.” +There may be, as there is apt to be in all such concurrent verdicts, a +strain of excess. The duller English sense may not catch all the finer +edges of a style which it may yet feel to be exquisite in its general +clearness, harmony, and point; the absurdities of verbal argument and of +Jesuit sophistry may sometimes pall upon the attention, and hardly raise +a smile at this time of day. It is the fate of even the finest polemical +literature to grow dead as it grows old; yet none can doubt the +immortality of the genius which has so long given life to such a +controversy, and charmed so many of the highest judges of literary form. +It is not for any Englishman to challenge the verdict of a Frenchman in a +matter of style. + +Pascal himself evidently thought highly of his success. He liked the +controversy, its excitement, and the applausive echo which followed each +Letter. Like every true artist, he felt the joy and yet the gravity of +his work. He took up his pen with a pleasurable sense of mastery, and +yet he wrote some of the Letters six or seven times over. He spared no +pains, yet he never wearied. All his intellectual life for the time was +thrown into the controversy, and his most finely-tempered strokes made +music in his own mind, while they carried confusion to his adversaries +and triumph to his friends. The sensation made by the Letters was, of +course, mainly confined to France; but the nervous Latinity of Nicole +soon communicated something of the same sensation to a wider circle. +{156} Pascal has himself told us that he never repented having written +them, nor “the amusing, agreeable, ironical style” in which they were +written. Even the condemnation of the Papal See, abject in some respects +as was his devotion to his Church, did not move him on this point. He +left on record, amongst his Thoughts, the following solemn declaration: +“IF MY LETTERS ARE CONDEMNED IN ROME, WHAT I CONDEMN IN THEM IS CONDEMNED +IN HEAVEN. AD TUUM, DOMINE JESU, TRIBUNAL APPELLO.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI. +THE ‘PENSÉES.’ + + +From Pascal’s finished work we turn to his unfinished Remains. The one +will always be regarded as the chief monument of his literary skill, and +of the executive completeness of his mind. But the other is the worthier +and nobler tribute to the greatness of his soul, and the depth and power +of his moral genius. Few comparatively now read the ‘Provincial Letters’ +as a whole; fewer still are interested in the controversy which they +commemorate. But there are hardly any of higher culture—none certainly +of higher thoughtfulness—to whom the ‘Pensées’ are not still attractive, +and who have not sought in them at one time or another some answer to the +obstinate questionings which the deeper scrutiny of human life and +destiny is ever renewing in the human heart. No answer may have been +found in them, but every spiritual mind must have so far met in the +author of the ‘Pensées’ a kindred spirit which, if it has seen no farther +than others, has yet entered keenly upon the great quest, and traversed +with a singular boldness the great lines of higher speculation that +“slope through darkness up to God.” + +The literary history of the ‘Pensées’ is a very curious one. They first +appeared in the end of 1669, in a small duodecimo volume, with the +appropriate motto, “Pendent opera interrupta.” Their preparation for the +press had been a subject of much anxiety to Pascal’s friends. What is +known as the “Peace of the Church”—a period of temporary quiet and +prosperity to Port Royal—had begun in 1663; and it was important that +nothing should be done by the Port Royalists to disturb this peace. It +had been agreed, therefore, that all passages bearing on the controversy +with the Jesuits and the Formulary should be omitted; but beyond this +Madame Périer desired that the volume should only contain what proceeded +from her brother, and in the precise form and style in which it had left +his hand. She evidently lacked full confidence in the Committee of +Editors, of whom the Duc de Roannez was the chief, notwithstanding their +professions of strict adherence to the manuscripts. The volume at last +appeared, with a preface by her own son, and no fewer than nine +“approbations,” signed amongst others by three bishops, one archdeacon, +and three doctors of the Sorbonne. + +Unhappily Madame Périer had too much cause for alarm. Editors and +Approvers alike had claimed the liberty, not only of arranging but of +modifying both the matter and the style of the ‘Pensées,’ and this +notwithstanding a statement in the preface that, in giving, as they +professed to do, only “the clearest and most finished” of the fragments, +they had given them as they found them, _without adding or changing +anything_. “These fragments,” says M. Faugère, “which sickness and death +had left unfinished, suffered, without ceasing to be immortal, all the +mutilation which an exaggerated prudence or a misdirected zeal could +suggest, with the view not only of guarding their orthodoxy, but of +embellishing their style—the style of the author of the ‘Provincials’!” +“There are not,” he adds, “twenty successive lines which do not present +some alteration, great or small. As for total omissions and partial +suppressions, they are without number.” M. Cousin is equally emphatic. +“There are,” he says, “examples of every kind of alteration—alteration of +words, alteration of phrases, suppressions, substitutions, additions, +arbitrary compositions, and, what is worse, decompositions more arbitrary +still.” + +It is impossible to defend the first editors of the ‘Pensées.’ But it +should be remembered that their task was one not only of theological +perplexity, but of great literary difficulty. Pascal’s manuscripts were +a mere mass of confused papers, sometimes written on both sides, and in a +hand for the most part so obscure and imperfectly formed as to be +illegible to all who had not made it a special study. The papers were +pasted or bundled together without any natural connection, parts +containing the same piece being sometimes intersected and sometimes +widely separated from one another. If the editors, therefore, did their +work ill, it was partly no doubt from incompetency, but partly from its +inherent difficulty, and from the fact that being so near to Pascal they +could hardly appreciate the feelings of the modern critic as to the +sacredness of his style, and of all that came from his pen. + +The edition of 1669 continued to be reprinted with little alteration for +a century. Various additional fragments were brought to light, +especially the famous conversation between De Saci and Pascal regarding +Epictetus and Montaigne; but the form of the fragments remained +unchanged. It was not till the edition of Condorcet in 1776 that they +can be said to have undergone any new _rédaction_. Unhappily Pascal +suffered in the hands of the Encyclopedists, as he had previously +suffered in the hands of the Jansenists and the Sorbonne. The first +editors had expunged whatever might seem at variance with orthodoxy. +Condorcet suppressed or modified whatever partook of a too lofty +enthusiasm or a too fervent piety. It became a current idea among the +Encyclopedists that the accident at Neuilly had affected Pascal’s brain. +We have already seen how Voltaire spoke of this; and he directed an early +attack (1734) upon the doctrine of human nature contained in the +‘Pensées.’ Now, in his old age, he hailed Condorcet’s edition, and +reissued it two years later, with an Introduction and Notes by himself. + +In the following year, 1779, appeared the elaborate and well-known +edition of Pascal’s works by the Abbé Bossut, accompanied by an admirable +“Discours sur la Vie et les Ouvrages de Pascal.” In this edition the +remains are found for the first time in some degree of completeness. All +the fragments published by Port Royal, and all those subsequently brought +to light by Des Molets and others, are included and arranged in a new +order. But meritorious as were Bossut’s editorial labours as a whole, +they did not attempt any restoration of the ‘Pensées’ to their original +text; and even the new fragments published by him were not left +untouched. He embodied, for example, the famous conversation with De +Saci, but without giving De Saci’s part of the dialogue. In short, he +reproduced, as M. Havet says, all the faults of the first editors, and +made others of his own. This is the more remarkable that he is said to +have had in his possession a copy of the original manuscripts. +Condorcet, however, consulted the original manuscripts themselves, +without any thought of doing justice to Pascal’s text. + +So matters remained till 1842, when M. Cousin published his famous Report +on the subject to the French Academy. The French public then found to +their astonishment that, with so many editions of the ‘Pensées,’ they had +not the ‘Pensées’ themselves. While philosophers had disputed as to his +ideas, and critics admired his style, the veritable Pascal of the +‘Pensées’ had all the time lain concealed in a mass of manuscripts in the +National Library. Such a story, it may be imagined, did not lack any +force in the manner in which M. Cousin told it; and an eager desire arose +for a new and complete edition of the fragments. Cousin had prepared the +way, but he did not himself undertake this task, which was reserved for +M. Faugère, whose great edition appeared two years later, in 1844. +Nothing can deprive M. Faugère of the credit of being the first editor of +a _complete_ and _authentic_ text of the ‘Pensées.’ + +Other editions of distinctive merit have since appeared; and it may be +admitted that, in the natural reaction from the laxity of former +editions, he gave a too literal transcript of the manuscripts, including +some things of little importance, and others more properly belonging to +an edition of the ‘Provincial Letters’ than of the ‘Pensées.’ But, +whether it be the result of early association or of greater familiarity +with M. Faugère’s pages, I own still a preference for this edition, while +admitting the admirable perspicuity and intelligence of many of M. +Havet’s notes, and the splendour of the edition of M. Victor Rochet, the +most recent (1873) that has come under my notice. + +The principle observed by M. Faugère is strongly defended in his preface. +He allowed himself no discretionary powers of emendation, because “the +limits of such a power might,” he says, “be too easily overstepped, and +would have left room for belief that greater liberties had been taken +than was actually the case.” “The manuscripts,” he adds, “have been +read, or rather studied, page by page, line by line, syllable by +syllable, to the end; and, with the exception of illegible words (which, +however, are carefully indicated), they have passed completely into the +present edition.” + +So far, this principle has been adhered to by subsequent editors. There +has been no further tampering with Pascal’s words, but more or less +latitude has been taken in publishing all the manuscript details, and +especially in the arrangement of the several fragments. Faugère fancied +that he could trace in Pascal’s own notes the indication of an interior +arrangement, into which the several parts of his proposed work in defence +of religion were intended to fall; and he has grouped the fragments in +his second volume according to these supposed indications. M. Havet does +not think that it is possible any longer to discover the true order of +the fragments. He does not believe that any such order existed in the +author’s own mind. He had a general design, and certain great divisions; +a preface was sketched here, and a chapter there; but in throwing his +thoughts upon paper as they presented themselves to him, he did not stop +to assort them, or to bring them into any fitting connection. What +Pascal himself did not do, M. Havet does not think it possible any editor +can do. Accordingly, he recurs to the old, if somewhat arbitrary, +arrangement of Bossut, as the most familiar and useful. M. Rochet +follows an elaborate arrangement, professedly founded on the original +plan of Pascal, as sketched by himself in the conversation reported by +his nephew in the preface to the primary edition of the fragments. He +considers that all the Thoughts find their natural place in this plan and +in no other. But M. Rochet’s classifications are, partly at least, +inspired by his own ecclesiastical tendencies; and he is far from just to +the labours of M. Faugère, and the real light and order which these +labours introduced into the development of Pascal’s ideas. + +It is unnecessary for us to attempt to hold the balance between Pascal’s +several editors, or to say which of them has most justice on his side. +Of two things there can be no doubt: first, that any special arrangement +of the ‘Pensées,’ so as to give the idea of a connected book in defence +of religion, is, so far, arbitrary—the work, that is to say, of the +editor rather than of the author; and secondly, that there is no +difficulty, from the original preface and otherwise, of gathering the +general order of Pascal’s ideas, and the method which appeared to him the +true one of meeting the irreligion of his day, and vindicating the divine +truth of Christianity—points which shall afterwards come before us. + +The special question raised by M. Cousin as to Pascal’s scepticism will +also be best discussed in its true order, in connection with such +passages as have suggested it. Considering Pascal’s traditionary +reputation as the defender of religion, there was a character of surprise +in this question, that forced a lively debate, as soon as it was raised, +in France and Germany, and even England. Vinet and Neander both joined +in it; and the two lectures delivered by the latter before the Royal +Academy of Sciences in Berlin in 1847, are highly deserving of perusal by +all students of philosophy. {164} But the issue is an absurd one, before +the combatants are agreed as to the meaning of the word Scepticism, and +before the reader has before him the views of Pascal, and the manner in +which he defines his own attitude in relation to what he considered the +two great lines of thought opposed to Christianity. When we are in +possession of his own statements, we may find that much of the indignant +rhetoric of M. Cousin is beside the question, and that, although Pascal +was certainly no Cartesian, and has used some strong and rash expressions +about the weakness of human reason, neither is he a sceptic in any usual +sense. He has, in fact, defined his own position with singular clearness +and force. + +But before turning to his views on these higher subjects, it will be well +to present our readers with some of Pascal’s more miscellaneous and +general Thoughts. In doing so, it is not necessary, in such a volume as +this, that we indicate throughout the edition from which we take our +quotations. We shall quote from the editions of Faugère or Havet, as may +be most convenient, and take them in such order as suits our own purpose +of exhibiting Pascal’s mind as clearly as we can. For the same reason, +we shall give such passages as appear to us not always the most just or +accurate in thought, but the most characteristic or representative of the +veritable Pascal, whose true words were so long concealed from the world. +We cannot do better, in the first instance, than note what so great a +mathematician has to say of geometry and the “mathematical mind,” +compared with the naturally _acute_ mind (“l’esprit de finesse”), betwixt +which he draws an interesting parallel. The fragment on the +“Mathematical” or “Geometric Mind” was, with the exception of a brief +passage given by Des Molets {165} in 1728, originally published, although +with numerous suppressions, in Condorcet’s edition of the ‘Pensées.’ It +appeared for the first time in its complete form, and under its proper +title, in Faugère’s edition, along with its natural pendant, the +closely-allied fragment, entitled “L’Art de Persuader.” We give a few +passages from the first fragment:— + + “We may have three principal objects in the study of truth—one to + discover it when we seek it, another to demonstrate it when we + possess it, and a third and last to discriminate it from the false + when we examine it. . . . Geometry excels in all three, and + especially in the art of discovering unknown truths, which it calls + _analysis_. . . There is a method which excels geometry, but is + impossible to man, _for whatever transcends geometry transcends us_ + [in natural science, as he explains elsewhere]. This is the method + of defining everything and proving everything. . . A fine method, + but impossible; since it is evident that the first terms that we wish + to define, suppose precedent terms necessary for their + explanation—and that the first propositions that we wish to prove, + suppose others which precede them; and so it is clear we can never + arrive at absolutely first principles. In pushing our researches to + the utmost, we necessarily reach primitive words that admit of no + further definition, and principles so obvious, that they require no + proof. Man can never, therefore, from natural incompetency, possess + an absolutely complete science. . . . But geometry, while inferior + in its aims, is absolutely certain within its limits. It neither + defines everything, nor attempts to prove everything, and must, so + far, yield its pretension to be an absolute science; but it sets out + from things universally admitted as clear and constant, and is + therefore perfectly true, because in consonance with nature. Its + function is not to define things universally clear and understood, + but to define all others; and not to attempt to prove things + intuitively known to men, but to attempt to prove all others. + Against this, the true order of knowledge, those alike err who + attempt to define and to prove everything, and those who neglect + definition and demonstration where things are not self-evident. This + is what geometry teaches perfectly. It attempts no definition of + such things as _space_, _time_, _motion_, _number_, _equality_, and + the like, because these terms designate so naturally the things which + they signify, that any attempt at making them more clear ends in + making them more obscure. For there is nothing more futile than the + talk of those who would define primitive words. {166} + + . . . . . . . . + + “In geometry the principles are palpable, but removed from common + use. . . . In the sphere of natural wit or acuteness, the principles + are in common use and before all eyes—it is only a question of having + a good view of them; for they are so subtle and numerous, that some + are almost sure to escape observation. . . . All geometers would be + men of acuteness if they had sufficient insight, for they never + reason falsely on the principles recognised by them. All fine or + acute spirits would be geometers if they could fix their thoughts on + the unwonted principles of geometry. The reason why some finer + spirits are not geometers is, that they cannot turn their attention + at all to the principles of geometry; but geometers fail in finer + perception, because they do not see all that is before them, and + being accustomed to the plain and palpable principles of geometry, + and never reasoning until they have well ascertained and handled + their principles, they lose themselves in matters of intellectual + subtlety, where the principles are not so easily laid hold of. Such + things are seen with difficulty; they are felt rather than seen. + They are so delicate and multitudinous that it requires a very + delicate and neat sense to appreciate them. . . . So it is as rare + for geometers to be men of subtle wit as it is for the latter to be + geometers, because geometers like to treat these nicer matters + geometrically, and so make themselves ridiculous; they like to + commence with definition, and then go on to principles—a mode which + does not at all suit this sort of reasoning. It is not that the mind + does not take this method, but it does so silently, naturally, and + without conscious art. The perception of the process belongs only to + a few minds, and those of the highest order. . . . Geometers, who + are only geometers, are sure to be right, provided the subject come + within their scope, and is capable of explanation by definition and + principles. Otherwise they go wrong altogether, for they only judge + rightly upon principles clearly set forth and established. On the + other hand, subtle men, who are only subtle, lack patience, in + matters of speculation and imagination, to reach first principles + which they have never known in the world, and which are entirely + beyond their beat. . . . + + “There are different kinds of sound sense. Some succeed in one order + of things, and not in another, in which they are simply extravagant. + . . . Some minds draw consequences well from a few principles, + others are more at home in drawing conclusions from a great variety + of principles. For example, some understand well the phenomena of + water, with reference to which the principles are few, but the + results extremely delicate, so that only very great accuracy of mind + can trace them. Such men would probably not be great geometers, + because geometry involves a multitude of principles, and because the + mind which may penetrate thoroughly a few principles to their depth + may not be at all able to penetrate things which combine a multitude + of principles. . . . There are two sorts of mind: the one fathoms + rapidly and deeply the consequences of principles—this is the + observant and accurate mind; the other embraces a great multitude of + principles, without confounding them—and this is the mathematical + mind. The one is marked by energy and accuracy, the other by + amplitude. But the one may exist without the other. The mind may be + powerful and narrow, or it may be ample and weak.” {168} + +Few of Pascal’s Thoughts are more interesting than those on “Eloquence +and Style.” So great a master of the art of expression had naturally +something to say on these subjects. + + “Continued eloquence wearies. Princes and kings amuse themselves + sometimes; they are not always upon their thrones—they tire of these. + Grandeur must be laid aside in order to be realised. + + “Eloquence is a picture of thought; and thus those who, after having + drawn a picture, still go on, make a tableau and not a likeness. + + “Eloquence is the art of saying things in such a manner—first, that + those to whom they are addressed can understand them without trouble + and with pleasure; and secondly, that they may be interested in them + in such a way that their _amour propre_ may lead them gladly to + reflect upon them. It consists, therefore, in a correspondence + established between the mind and heart of the hearers on the one + side, and the thoughts and expressions used on the other, and so + implies a close study of the human heart in order to know all its + springs, and to find the due measures of speech to address to it. It + must confine itself, as far as possible, to the simplicity of nature, + and not make great what is small, nor small what is great. It is not + enough that a thing be fine, it must be fitting,—neither in excess + nor defect.” + + “Eloquence should prevail by gentle suasion, not by constraint. It + should reign, not tyrannise. + + “There are some who speak well, and who do not write well. The + place—the assembly—excites them, and draws forth their mind more than + they ever experience without such excitement.” + + “Those who make antitheses by forcing the sense are like men who make + false windows for the sake of symmetry. Their rule is not to speak + correctly, but to make correct figures.” + + “There should be in eloquence always what is true and real; but that + which is pleasing should itself be the real.” + + “When we meet with the natural style we are surprised and delighted, + for we expected to find an author, and we find a man; whilst those of + good taste who in looking into a book think to find a man, are + altogether surprised to find an author. _Plus poetice quam humane + locutus es_. They honour nature most who teach her that she can + speak best on all subjects—even on theology.” + + “There are men who always dress up nature. No mere king with them, + but an august monarch. No Paris, but the capital of the kingdom. + There are places in which it is necessary to call Paris Paris; + others, where we must call it the capital of the kingdom.” + + “When in composition we find a word repeated, and on trying to + correct it find it so suitable that a change would spoil the sense, + it is better to let it alone. This stamps it as fitting, and it is a + stupid feeling which does not recognise that repetition in such a + case is not a fault; for there is no universal rule. + + “The meaning itself changes with the words which express it. The + meaning derives its dignity from the words, instead of imparting it + to them.” + + “The last thing that we discover in writing a book is to know what to + put at the beginning. + + “When a discourse paints a passion or effect naturally, we find in + ourselves the truth of what we hear, which was there without our + knowing it, so that we are led to like the man who discovers so much + to us. For he does not show us his own good, but ours; and this good + turn makes him lovable. Besides that, the community of intelligence + we have with him necessarily inclines the heart towards him. + + “Let none allege that I have said nothing new. The arrangement of + the matter is new. When we play at tennis, both play with the same + ball; but one plays better than the other. They might as well accuse + me of using old words, as if the same thoughts differently arranged + would not form a different discourse; just as the same words + differently arranged express different thoughts. + + “There is a definite standard of taste and beauty, which consists in + a certain relation between our nature—it may be weak or strong, but + such as it is—and the thing that pleases us. All that is formed to + this standard delights us,—house, song, writing, verse, prose, women, + buds, rivers, trees, rooms, dress, etc. All that is not formed by + this standard disgusts men of good taste. + + “I never judge of the same thing exactly in the same manner. I + cannot judge of my work in the course of doing it. I must do as + painters do, place myself at a distance from it, but not too far. + How then? You may guess.” + +We do not look to Pascal especially for worldly insight, or for that +sharp knowledge of men that make the sayings of clever social writers +like Rochefoucauld or Horace Walpole memorable, if not always wise or +kind. But there are many of the Thoughts which show that the penitent of +Port Royal had looked with clear observant eyes below the surface of +Paris society, and that he had a deep sense not only of the moral but the +social weaknesses of humanity. + + “When passion leads us towards anything, we forget duty; as we like a + book we read it, while we ought to be doing something else. In order + to be reminded of our duty, it is necessary to propose to do + something that we dislike; then we excuse ourselves on the ground + that we have something else to do, and so we recollect our duty by + this means. + + “How wisely are men distinguished by their exterior rather than by + their interior qualifications! Which of us two shall take the lead? + Which shall yield precedence? The man of less talent? But I am as + clever as he. Then we must fight it out. But he has four lackeys + and I have only one. That is a visible difference. We have only to + count the numbers. It is my place then to give way, and I am a fool + to contest the point. In this way peace is kept, which is the + greatest of blessings. + + “There is a great advantage in rank, which gives to a man of eighteen + or twenty a degree of acceptance, publicity, and respect which + another can hardly obtain by merit at fifty. It is a gain of thirty + years without any trouble. + + “Respect for others requires you to inconvenience yourself. This + seems foolish, yet it is very proper. It seems to say, I would + gladly inconvenience myself if you really required me to do so, + seeing I am ready to do so without serving you. + + “‘This is _my_ dog,’ say children; ‘that sunny seat is mine.’ There + is the beginning and type of the usurpation of the whole earth. + + “This _I_ is hateful. You, Miton, {171} merely cover it, you do not + take it away; you are therefore always hateful. Not at all, you say; + for if we act obligingly to all men, they have no reason to hate us. + So far true, if there was nothing hateful in the _I_ itself but the + displeasure which it gives. But if I hate it because it is + essentially unjust, because it makes itself the centre of everything, + I shall hate it always. In short, this _I_ has two qualities: it is + unjust in itself, in that it makes itself the centre of everything; + it is an annoyance to others, in that it would serve itself by them. + Each _I_ is the enemy, and would be the tyrant, of all others. + + “He who would thoroughly know the vanity of men has only to consider + the causes and effects of love. The cause is a _je ne sais quoi_, an + indefinable trifle—the effects are monstrous. If the nose of + Cleopatra had been a little shorter, it would have changed the + history of the world. + + “You have a bad manner—‘excuse me, if you please.’ Without the + apology I should not have known that there was any harm done. + Begging your pardon, the ‘excuse me,’ is all the mischief. + + “Do you wish men to speak well of you? Then never speak well of + yourself. + + “The more mind we have, the more do we observe men of original mind. + It is your commonplace people that find no difference betwixt one man + and another. + + “It is the contest that delights us, and not the victory. It is the + same in play, and the same in search for truth. We love to watch in + argument the conflicts of opinion; but the plain truth we do not care + to look at. To regard it with pleasure, we must see it gradually + emerging from the contest of debate. It is the same with passions: + the struggle of two contending passions has great interest, but the + dominance of one is mere brutality. + + “The example of chastity in Alexander has not availed in the same + degree to make men chaste, as his drunkenness has to make them + intemperate. Men are not ashamed not to be so virtuous as he; and it + seems excusable not to be more vicious. A man thinks he is not + altogether sunk in the mud when he follows the vices of great men. + + “I have spent much time in the study of the abstract sciences, but + the paucity of persons with whom you can communicate on such + subjects, gave me a distaste for them. When I began to study man, I + saw that these abstract studies are not suited to him, and that in + diving into them I wandered farther from my real object than those + who were ignorant of them, and I forgave men for not having attended + to these things. But I thought at least I should find many + companions in the study of mankind, which is the true and proper + study of man. I was mistaken. There are yet fewer students of man + than of geometry. + + “People in general are called neither poets nor geometers, although + they have all that in them, and are capable of being judges of it. + They are not specifically marked out. When they enter a room, they + speak of the subject on hand. They do not show a greater aptitude + for one subject than another, except as circumstances call out their + talents. . . . + + “It is poor praise when a man is pointed out on entering a room as + being a clever poet; a bad mark that he should only be referred to + when the question is as to the merit of some verses. . . . + + “Man is full of wants, and likes those who can satisfy them. ‘Such a + one is a good mathematician,’ it may be said. But then I must be + doing mathematics; he would turn me into a proposition. Another is a + good soldier; he would take me for a besieged place. Give me your + true man of general talents, who can adapt himself to all my needs. + + “If a man sets himself at a window to see the passers-by, and I + happen to pass, can I say that he set himself there to see me? No; + for he does not think of me in particular. But if a man loves a + woman for her beauty, does he love _her_? No; for the smallpox, + which will destroy her beauty without killing her, will cause him to + love her no more. And if any one loves me for my judgment or my + memory, does he really love _me_? No; for I may lose those qualities + without ceasing to be. Where, then, is this _me_, if it is neither + in soul nor body? + + “How is it that a lame man does not anger us, but a blundering mind + does? Is it that the cripple admits that we walk straight, but a + crippled mind accuses us of limping? Epictetus asks also, Why are we + not annoyed if any one tells us that we are unwell in the head, and + yet are angry if they tell us that we reason falsely or choose + unwisely? The reason is, that we know certainly nothing ails our + head, or that we are not crippled in body. But we are not so certain + that we have chosen correctly. + + “All men naturally hate one another. + + “Desire and force are the source of all our actions—desire of our + voluntary, force of our involuntary actions. + + “Men are necessarily such fools, that it would be folly of another + kind not to be a fool. + + “To make a man a saint, grace is absolutely necessary; and whoever + doubts this does not know what a saint is, nor what a man is. + + “The last act is always tragedy, whatever fine comedy there may have + been in the rest of life—We must all die alone.” + + “There can only be two kinds of men: the righteous, who believe + themselves sinners; and sinners, who believe themselves righteous. + + “Unbelievers are the most credulous; they believe the miracles of + Vespasian to escape believing the miracles of Moses. + + “Atheists should speak only of things perfectly clear, but it is not + perfectly clear that the soul is material. + + “Atheism indicates force of mind, but only up to a certain point.” + +Some of the foregoing Thoughts {174} may appear to our readers sufficient +to warrant the charge of scepticism, already adverted to. Pascal +certainly speaks at times both of human life and human reason in a +contemptuous manner. Even Rochefoucauld could hardly express himself +more bitterly than he does now and then when he fixes his clear gaze upon +the folly, the vanity, the weaknesses which make up man’s customary life, +and the deceits which he practises upon himself and his fellows. All the +world seems to him at such times “in a state of delusion.” If there is +truth, it “is not where men suppose it to be.” The majority are to be +followed, not “because they have more reason, but because they have more +force.” + + “The power of kings is founded on the reason and on the folly of the + people, but chiefly on their folly. The greatest and most important + thing in the world has weakness for its basis, and the basis is + wonderfully secure, for there is nothing more certain than that + people will be weak. . . . Our magistrates well understand this + mystery. . . . Save for their crimson robes, ermine, palaces of + justice, fleur-de-lis, they would never have duped the world. Where + would the physician be without his ‘cassock and mule,’ and the + theologian without his ‘square cap and flowing garments’? These vain + adornments impress the imagination, and secure respect. We cannot + look at an advocate in his gown and wig without a favourable + impression of his abilities. The soldier alone needs no disguise, + because he gains his authority by actual force, the others by + grimace.” + +In such sentences, as well as in some previously quoted, the cynicism of +both Hobbes and Montaigne seems to speak. Man is really a fool, and +society rests upon force. The further down we go, we come, not to any +natural rights, or essential principles of justice, which reason is +capable of judging, but only to a mass of customs built up out of selfish +instincts, and controlled by external influence. Pascal repeats +Montaigne over and over again, and seems to make many of his cynicisms +his own. This is not to be denied. “Montaigne is right. Custom should +be followed because it is custom, and because it is found to be +established, without inquiry whether it be reasonable or not.” Yet he +puts in a caveat, as we shall see more fully afterwards, just when he +seems most to have identified himself with the representative of +scepticism. In blindly following custom, he reserves “those matters +which are not contrary to natural or divine right;” and the root of +custom, even in the popular mind, he believes to be a dim sense of +justice. Again, in a similar vein, he asks, “Why follow ancient laws and +ancient opinions? _Are they wiser_? _No_. But they stand apart from +present interests; and _thus take away the root of difference_.” Here, +as so often, the moralist supplants the sceptic, and suggests a higher +thought, while seeming to approve of a superficial Pyrrhonism. + +It is easy, in one sense, to make out a case of scepticism against +Pascal. He always writes strongly. There is passion in all his thought. +He had a strong and deep sense of human weakness, and incapacity to +attain the highest truth. He spoke of the philosophy of Descartes +without respect. With most of the Port Royalists, indeed, he seems to +have concurred in the Cartesian doctrine of automata, {176} strangely +revived in our day by Professor Huxley. But he repudiated the notion of +“subtle matter,” and even spoke of it with contempt (_dont il se moquait +fort_). “He could not bear,” his niece tells us, in a passage often +quoted and emphasised, “the Cartesian manner of explaining the formation +of all things.” “I cannot forgive Descartes,” he said. “He would +willingly in all his philosophy have done without God, if he could; but +he could not get on without letting him give the world a fillip to set it +agoing: after that, he has nothing more to do with God.” Whether he had +studied Descartes or not, he evidently did not share the enthusiasm of +Arnauld and others for his philosophy. He even spoke of it as “useless, +uncertain, and troublesome—nay, as ridiculous.” {177} He has added, in +that brusque, rapid, forceful style characteristic of many of his +Thoughts, that “he did not think the whole of philosophy worth an hour’s +trouble.” Again: “To set light by philosophy is the true philosophy.” +When we look at such expressions, and many others, it is not to be +wondered at that Pascal has been accused of scepticism. As he could not +forgive Descartes, so Cousin cannot forgive him for his depreciation of +Descartes. One who saw nothing in Cartesianism or philosophy in general +beyond what these rash sentences, freshly restored in all their audacity, +declare, could be nothing but an “enemy of all philosophy.” + +It is impossible not to feel that there is some ground for this +accusation, and that, if we were to draw our knowledge of Pascal merely +from such passages, Cousin makes out something of a case against him. +But many other passages, hardly less emphatic, must make every candid +reader pause before he comes to any definite conclusion on the subject, +if it is necessary to come to such a conclusion at all. It must never be +forgotten that we have nowhere the complete mind of Pascal; that it was +of the very nature of thoughts rapidly dashed upon paper—as the very form +of many we have quoted clearly indicates they were—to be one-sided and +often extravagant. Pascal, of all men, is not to be measured by his +strong expressions. His intellectual nature, while profound, was narrow +and intense. He put his whole soul into what moved him for the time; and +a certain excess of passionate intellectual emotion evidently speaks in +some of the most striking of the ‘Pensées.’ We may imagine how in +some—perhaps in many—cases they would have been toned down had he lived +to revise and refashion them into a harmonious whole. That interior +elaboration,—“a kind of second creation of genius,” as M. Faugère +says—which no one else may venture upon,—would undoubtedly have come from +his own masterly hand, if it had been given him to bring fragment to +fragment, and to fit them together into a complete fabric. It would be a +hard thing to judge any student, and especially a student like Pascal, by +the scattered notes of his library table; and precious as these fragments +are, we must remember that this is their character, and nothing else. +The fact that we now have them in all their native _hardiesse_ makes this +caution not the less but all the more necessary. + +In passing on to consider more particularly Pascal’s philosophical and +religious attitude, we shall see more fully the bearing of these remarks. +Pascal, in point of fact, embraces many points of view; and, if he leans +sometimes to scepticism, he sees also the strong side of what he calls +dogmatism or rational philosophy. The very exaggerations of his +language, now on this side and now on that, show that he himself is more +than either, as his own words bear. “It is necessary,” he says, “to have +three qualities—those of the Pyrrhonist, of the geometrician (the +dogmatist), and of the humble Christian. These unite with and attemper +one another, so that we doubt when we should, we aim at certainty when we +should, and we submit when we should.” He certainly thought that he had +found a surer road to truth than either Dogmatism or Pyrrhonism. Whether +he succeeded in doing so will appear as we proceed. + +The famous conversation with De Saci, when he entered Port Royal, must be +taken as the chief key to Pascal’s own philosophical attitude. There is +nowhere in any of the Thoughts so complete an exhibition of his point of +view; and all the editors who have most entered into Pascal’s +spirit—Sainte-Beuve, Faugère, and Havet alike—have recognised its +importance. It is really, as Havet says, of the nature of an +introduction to the ‘Pensées.’ + +In this conversation Pascal signalises what he believes to be the two +great opposing systems of human philosophy at all times; the rational, +dogmatic, or Stoical, on the one hand—the sceptical, or Epicurean, on the +other. He takes Epictetus as the representative of the one; Montaigne as +the representative of the other. In depicting dogmatism at other times, +he seems to have Descartes especially in view; but in speaking of +scepticism and Pyrrhonism (which is his own expression), it is always +Montaigne that he has before him. Montaigne is Pyrrhonist _par +excellence_; and undoubtedly the famous Essays had greatly fascinated +Pascal, like many others in his generation. He was constantly drawn to +them as embodying one, and that a deep, phase of his own experience. He +felt his own thought expressed in many pages of Montaigne, and had that +favour for the Essays that every thoughtful man has for the book that +makes his own experience alive, and brings it clearly before him. But he +has, at the same time, made plainly intelligible his own differences from +Montaigne, and marked with his usual boldness the limitations of his +thought. If Pascal is Pyrrhonist, he is certainly not Pyrrhonist after +the manner of Montaigne, deeply as he responds to many of the notes of +the Essays, and at times seems to make them his own. + +The conversation with De Saci took place in 1654, when Pascal first went +to Port Royal des Champs, and De Saci became his spiritual director. We +owe its preservation to Fontaine, from whose manuscript ‘Memoirs’ it was +extracted, and first published in 1728 by Des Molets. After all the +labour of Faugère, Havet believes himself to have given for the first +time the correct text of the conversation from the original print of Des +Molets, based on Fontaine’s manuscripts, rather than from the text of the +‘Memoirs’ as afterwards published. Fontaine describes in his _naïve_ +manner the impression made by Pascal upon De Saci, and how the brilliancy +of power which had charmed all the world could not be hidden within the +shades of Port Royal. Ignorant of the Fathers of the Church, he had +found by his own mental and spiritual penetration the very truths to be +met with in them; and De Saci seemed to see another St Augustine before +him in the wonderful talk of the gifted penitent. It was his practice in +dealing with his penitents to adapt his conversation to their peculiar +powers. If he spoke with M. Champagne, for example, he talked with him +of painting. If he saw M. Hamon, he inquired about the art of medicine. +If it was the surgeon of the place, he had something to say of surgery. +All was designed to lead the thoughts from all human things up to God. +With Pascal, therefore, it was philosophy upon which his conversation +fell, to try the depths of his mind, and see what special direction he +needed. “Pascal told him that the two books most familiar to him were +Epictetus and Montaigne, and he lavished great praise on both. M. de +Saci had always wished to read these two authors, and asked M. Pascal to +explain them fully.” + + “Epictetus,” said Pascal, “is one of the philosophers of the world + who have best known the duties of man. Above all things, he would + have man regard God as his chief object—to be persuaded that He + governs all things with righteousness—to submit to Him cordially, and + to follow Him willingly, as having made all things with perfect + wisdom. Such a disposition would stay all complaints and murmurs, + and prepare the human mind to bear quietly the most troublesome + events. ‘Never say,’ he observes (Enchirid. 11), ‘I have lost that; + say rather, I have restored it. My son is dead; I have surrendered + him. My wife is dead; I have given her up.’ And so of every other + good. . . . While its use is permitted, regard it as a good + belonging to others, as a traveller does in an inn. You should not + wish,’ he adds, ‘that things be as you desire, but you should desire + them to be as they are.’ . . . It is your duty to play well the part + assigned to you, but to choose the part is the act of Another. Have + always death before your eyes, and the evils which are least + supportable, and you would never think meanly of anything, nor desire + anything in excess. He shows in a thousand ways what is the duty of + man. He wishes him to be humble, to conceal his good resolutions, + especially in their beginnings, that he may carry them out in secret. + Nothing is so ruinous to them as publicity. He never ceases to + repeat that the whole duty and desire of man ought to be to + acknowledge the will of God, and to follow it. + + “Such were the lights of this great mind, who has so well understood + the duties of man. I venture to say, that he would have deserved to + be adored if he had only known as well human weakness; but in order + to do this, he must have been God Himself. Mere man as he was, after + having so well explained human duty, he loses himself in the + presumption of human capacity. He avers that God has given to every + man the means of acquitting himself of all his obligations; that such + means are always within his own power, that happiness is to be sought + by things within our reach, since God has given us them for this very + end. He points out in what our freedom consists: goods, life, esteem + are not in our power, and therefore do not lead to God; but none can + force the mind to believe what is false, nor the will to love that + which will make it miserable. These two powers are therefore free; + and by these we can render ourselves perfect—know God perfectly, love + Him, obey Him, please Him—vanquish all vices, acquire all virtues, + and so make ourselves holy, and the fellows of God. These + principles, truly diabolic in their pride, lead to other errors—such + as that the soul is a portion of the Divine substance, that grief and + death are not evils, that we may kill ourselves when we are in such + trouble that we may believe God summons us, etc. + + “As for Montaigne—of whom you wish me also, my dear sir, to + speak—being born in a Christian country, he makes profession of the + Catholic religion, and so far there is nothing peculiar about him. + But in the search for a system of morals dictated by reason without + the light of faith, he has to lay down his principles on this + supposition, and to consider man apart from revelation. He conceives + things in such a universal uncertainty that doubt itself is seized + with uncertainty, and doubts whether it doubts. His scepticism + returns upon itself in a perpetual circle without repose, opposing + equally those who maintain that all is uncertain, and those who + maintain that nothing is, so utterly indisposed is he to any fixity. + In this doubt which doubts itself, and this ignorance which is + ignorant of itself, is to be found the essence of his thought. He + cannot express it by any positive term; for if he was to say that he + doubts, he betrays himself by making it certain that he doubts; and + this being formally against his intention, he can only explain + himself by an interrogation. Not wishing to say, I do not know, he + can only ask, What do I know? He has made this his device, putting + it under a pair of balances, which, weighted in each scale by a + contradiction, hangs in perfect equilibrium. In other words, he is + pure Pyrrhonist. This is the point round which turn all his + discourses and all his essays. This is the only thing which he + leaves fixed, although he may not always keep it before him. . . . + + “It is in this humour, fluctuating and variable as it is, that he + combats with an invincible firmness the heretics of his time, who + assumed to know the exclusive sense of Scripture. From the same + point of view he thunders vigorously against the horrible impiety of + those who dare to be certain that there is no God! He attacks them + especially in the ‘Apology for Raymond de Sebonde.’ Having + voluntarily set aside revelation, and abandoned themselves to their + natural light—all faith set aside—he asks them on what authority + they, who know not the essential reality of anything, dare to judge + of that Sovereign Being who is infinite by His very definition. He + demands upon what principles they rest, and presses them to point + them out. He examines all that they bring forward, and so searches + them by his wonderful penetration as to show the hollowness of what + passes for the most clear and established truths. He inquires if the + soul knows anything whatever—if it knows itself; whether it is + substance or accident, body or spirit; what is each of these things, + and if there is anything belonging to some order different from + either; if the soul knows its own body; if it knows what matter is, + or can distinguish the innumerable varieties of body produced from + matter; how it can reason if it is material, and how it can be united + to a special body, and feel its passions if it be spiritual. When + did it begin to be, with the body or before, and if it ends with it + or not? . . . . The ideas of God and truth are inseparable, and if + the one is or is not, if the one is certain or uncertain, the other + is necessarily the same. Who knows if the common sense (_le sens + commun_) which we take as a judge of the truth is really this, + designed for such a purpose? Who knows what truth is, and how can we + be sure of having it without knowing it? Who knows even what Being + is, since it is impossible to define it; and in trying to do so, it + is necessary to presuppose the very idea itself, and say _it is_? . . + . + + “I confess, sir, I might look with joy upon the manner in which the + author invincibly crumples up proud reason with its own arms. I + could love with my whole heart the minister of so mighty a vengeance + if, as a faithful disciple of the Church, he had followed its moral + guidance. But he acts, on the contrary, like a pagan, concluding + that we ought to abandon care for others and dwell in peace, gliding + lightly over such subjects lest we lose ourselves in them, and taking + that to be true and good which at first appears to be so. This is + why he follows everywhere the evidence of the senses and the notions + of the community. . . . In this manner, he says, there is nothing + extravagant in his conduct. He does as others do. Whatever they do + in the foolish thought that they are following the true good, he does + from another principle, that as the probabilities (_vraisemblances_) + are equally on one side and the other, so example and convenience + carry the day with him. He mounts his horse like any one else—not as + a philosopher—because the horse allows him to do so, but without + thinking there is any right in the matter, and not knowing whether + the horse, on the contrary, may not be entitled to make use of him. + He puts constraint to himself in order to shun certain vices; and + even guards marriage faithfully, merely on account of the disorder + which would otherwise follow. . . . + + “I cannot dissemble that in reading Montaigne, and comparing him with + Epictetus, I find in them the two greatest defenders of the most + celebrated sects of the world, who profess to follow reason rather + than revelation. We must follow one or other. Either there is a God + and a Sovereign Good, or this is uncertain, and all is + uncertain,—whether there is any true good or not. . . . + + “The error in both is, in not seeing that the present state of man + differs from that in which he was created. The one, observing only + the traces of his primitive grandeur, and ignoring his corruption, + has treated human nature as if it were whole, without any need of a + Redeemer—this leads to the height of pride; the other, sensible of + man’s present misery, and ignorant of his original dignity, treats + human nature as necessarily weak and irreparable, and thus, in + despair of attaining any true good, plunges it into a depth of + baseness.” {185} + +These two states, Pascal goes on to argue, must be taken together before +the truth can be reached. Apart, they give a false picture of man; and +generate on the one hand pride, on the other hand immorality. It is only +the Gospel which unites them, in a right manner, “by a divine art.” It +brings together the opposites, and explains, by a wondrous, truly +heavenly way, how they may coexist, not as attributes of the same +subject, as systems of human philosophy have made them, but as different +endowments—the one of nature, the other of grace. “Behold the new and +surprising union which God alone could teach and alone accomplish, and +which is only an image and an effect of the ineffable union of two +natures in the one person of the God-man.” + +In these latter sentences—which we have been obliged, for the sake of +brevity, to compress—we have the suggestion of Pascal’s philosophy both +of human nature and of Divine revelation. He recurs over and over again +to the same idea, that man is great and yet weak, full of capacity and +yet miserable, and that the Gospel alone holds the key to this enigma of +human nature. This, more than any other, is the pervading thought round +which all the others gather. + + “This twofoldness (_duplicité_),” he says, “is so visible, that some + have conceived that man must have two souls—a simple subject + appearing to them incapable of such and so sudden variations; an + immeasurable presumption on the one hand, a horrible abasement on the + other. In spite of all the miseries which cleave to us, and hold us, + as it were, by the throat (_nous tiennent à la gorge_), there is + within us an irrepressible instinct which exalts us. The greatness + of man is so visible that it may be deduced from his very misery. + His very miseries prove his greatness. They are the miseries of a + great lord, of a dethroned sovereign. The greatness of man consists + in his knowledge of his misery. A tree does not know itself to be + miserable. . . . He is miserable—the fact is beyond question; but he + is great in knowing it.” {186} + +Again, reverting to the very same line of thought, as in the conversation +with De Saci— + + “Philosophers have propounded sentiments not at all adapted to the + twofold condition of man. They have sought to inspire emotions of + pure greatness; but this is not man’s condition. They have sought on + the other hand to inspire sentiments of mere baseness; but neither is + this man’s condition. Man needs abasement, not of nature, however, + but of penitence; not that he remain degraded, but that he may rise + to greatness. He needs to feel within him the emotion of + greatness,—not of merit, however, but of grace. . . . Two sects have + sprung out of this conflict between reason and sense in man. The + one, in renouncing passion, has aspired to divinity; the other, in + renouncing reason, has sunk to mere brutality. . . . The principles + of the respective philosophies are so far true—Pyrrhonism, Stoicism, + Atheism even. But the conclusions are false, because the opposite + principles are equally true. . . . We labour under an incapacity of + demonstrating all things invincible to Dogmatism. We have an innate + idea of truth invincible to all Pyrrhonism. . . . Nature confounds + the Pyrrhonist, and reason the Dogmatist;”— + +or, as the passage was originally written,— + + “We cannot be Pyrrhonists without violating nature; we cannot be + Dogmatists without renouncing nature.” {187} + +These and other passages sufficiently show Pascal’s relation to +philosophy, and to Pyrrhonism in particular. He is no enemy of +philosophy, but he certainly does not believe it capable of explaining +the riddle of human nature. He is so far from being a Pyrrhonist in the +sense of resting on Pyrrhonism, that he seeks to mount on its shoulders +to a higher truth. Nay, he clearly recognises that man has an inborn +faculty for truth which not all the contradictions of his experience can +belie. We may and must doubt as to many things; but there are principles +lying at the root of human life which are invincible to all doubt. We +can demonstrate many things; but there are natural realities beyond our +power of demonstration. On the side of sense, all things seem to +fluctuate and waver in uncertainty; on the side of mere intellect we soon +cross the limit of our powers. But Humanity is more than either sense or +intellect. There is, as he believes, a primitive endowment of spiritual +instinct in man, which looks forth upon a higher world of reality. +Repeatedly, and in various applications, he recurs to these three radical +sides or elements of Humanity; “the sensible—the intellectual, or the +exercise of reason left to itself—and the spiritual or divine.” Pascal +despairs of a philosophy which is either a mere generalisation of +sensible experience, or which aims at demonstrating everything from a +purely rational point of view; but he is so far from resting in mere +intellectual doubt, that he tries to find a ground for human certitude in +a deeper stratum of Humanity than either sense or what he calls “reason.” +Neander and others have vindicated for him a supreme position as a +philosopher on this very account. With them he is not only no sceptic, +but he stands forth among the men who have specially vindicated the +claims of Humanity as endowed with the divine attributes of “spirit” and +“will”—the men of “full mental healthiness” who have recognised in man a +free spiritual life no less than a life of sense and intellect. This may +or may not be. But the mere fact that Pascal has aimed at a deeper +ground of certitude, whether he has made it clear or not, and whether or +not he has spoken with undue depreciation of other sources of knowledge, +should be enough to vindicate him from the charge of even philosophical +scepticism. In the following passage he has explained his views more +fully. More than any other, perhaps, it may be taken as the text of his +philosophy. + + “We discover truth,” he says, “not only by reasoning, but by feeling + (_le cœur_); and it is in this latter manner that we discover first + principles—and in vain does reasoning, which has no share in their + production, try to combat these principles. The Pyrrhonists, who + attempt this, labour in vain. We know that we are not deceived, + however incapable we may be of proving so by any power of reasoning. + This incapacity only demonstrates the weakness of our reasoning + faculty, and not the incertitude of all our knowledge, as they + pretend. Nay, our knowledge of first principles, such as the ideas + of _space_, _time_, _motion_, _number_, is as certain as any obtained + by reasoning. It is, in fact, upon such conclusions of feeling and + instinct that Reason must ultimately rest and base all its arguments. + We _feel_ that there are three dimensions in space, and that numbers + are infinite; and reason hence demonstrates that there are no two + square numbers the one of which is double the other. Principles are + felt, propositions deduced, and both with certitude, although in + different ways. And it is as absurd for the ‘reason’ to demand of + the ‘heart’ proofs of its first principles before asserting them, as + it would be for the ‘heart’ to demand of the ‘reason’ a _feeling_ of + all propositions that she demonstrates before accepting them. This + weakness, therefore, should only serve to humble reason in its desire + to make itself judge of everything, but by no means to moderate the + certitude of our conviction, as if reason were alone capable of + instructing us.” {189} + +There may be something to object to in Pascal’s mode of expression in the +above passage. Cousin has made the most of his confusion of “reason” and +“reasoning”—“la raison” and “le raisonnement.” The expression “le cœur,” +by which he designates the higher faculty of intuition, may be inadequate +and misleading—complex and disturbing in its association. But withal, +his attitude in favour of a ground of certainty in human knowledge is +unmistakable. So far he is not only not with Montaigne, but he is +clearly against him. The rights of nature, as he says, rise up against +the Pyrrhonist. They make themselves good. And however strongly Pascal +may draw the picture of human weakness, and all the contrarieties which +our nature encloses, he does not mean by this to strike at the roots of +all knowledge, and leave man a prey to helpless doubt. He means merely +to shake the throne of rational security, and to show that no conclusions +of mere philosophy can reach all the exigencies of man’s condition. His +analysis of human nature is the analysis of a moralist, and not of a +psychologist or rational philosopher. He looks at man always as a +spiritual being. It is his spiritual capacity which alone makes him +great, and yet intensifies all the lower contradictions of his nature. +It is “thought alone which makes man’s greatness.” A man can be +conceived “without hands or feet or head, but not without thought.” + + “The possession of the earth would not add to my greatness. As to + space, the universe encloses and absorbs me as a mere point, but by + thought I embrace it. . . . Man is but a reed, the feeblest of + created things—but one possessing thought (_un roseau pensant_). It + needs not that the universe should arm itself to crush him. A + breath, a drop of water, suffices for his destruction. But were the + whole universe to rise against him, man is yet greater than the + universe, since man _knows_ that he dies. He knows the universe + prevails against him. The universe knows nothing of its power.” + {190} + +It is hardly possible to speak more eloquently of the dignity of human +nature. And if it is the same voice which speaks in such pathetic or it +may be harsh tones of human weakness and misery, and the disproportions +of our natural life, it is the very consciousness of greatness that +inspires the consciousness of misery. Looking from such a height of +human dignity, he sees all the depths of human baseness. It is this +higher spirit which consecrates Pascal as a moralist. Has he rebuked the +presumptions of humanity? has he called upon proud reason to humble +itself? has he gibed human philosophy, and even gloried for a moment in +the contradictions of empiricism? It is never that he may laugh at man, +or that he may rest in the mere contemplation of his follies or +extravagances, but because he himself profoundly realised the height and +the depth of his being—the grandeur to which he could rise, or to which +God could raise him, and the baseness and miseries to which he could +sink. Doubtless, as with all concentrated and meditative natures, Pascal +delights to dwell on the weaker and gloomier side of humanity. This was +partly the result of his Jansenist leanings, but mainly it came from his +own intense reality of feeling. It was bred of his austere sadness of +heart, and is found to run as a note of profound constitutional +melancholy through all his letters, and all his life, as well as his +Thoughts. In the view of eternity, and of the awful issues involved in +religion, the common life and pursuits of man seemed to him not only +frivolous, but criminal. He looked forth, therefore, on this common life +with eyes not only of tears, but of displeasure. He seemed even at times +to derive something of stern satisfaction from its very follies and +absurdities. But this is only the temporary mood of the profound +moralist touched to his heart by pangs that he cannot resist. His true +view of life is never cynical,—but always grave, if bitter—and hopeful, +if stern. + +Pascal’s supposed philosophical scepticism admits of something of the +same explanation. He has not only no wish to disturb the fundamental +verities of human thought, but he endeavours to fix them in an +ineradicable instinct or universal “sense,” against which all the +assaults of Pyrrhonism must break. But the while he is himself deeply +moved by the perplexities of human reason. Although no Pyrrhonist in +thought, he knows too well in experience the depths of Pyrrhonism. His +mind is one of those to be met with in all ages, which, while it clings +to faith, and is even strong in the assertion of faith’s claims, is yet +in certain moments utterly distracted by doubt. Constantly searching the +foundations of human knowledge,—sifting them as with lighted glance,—they +seemed to him at times to crumble away before him. Nothing remained +fixed to his piercing look. As few minds have experienced, he felt the +awful darkness which encloses all mortal aspiration, and the keenest +audacities of human speculation. The incapacities of human reason at +such times overwhelmed him, and left him hopeless, or, still worse, in a +half-derisive mood. And these moods, as well as his clearer and more +elaborate thoughts, hastily transferred to paper, are found amongst his +notes. It is quite impossible to vindicate his consistency, and it is +not in the least necessary to do this, as already explained; while we +feel bound to maintain that his higher mood is his true mood, and that +the Pascal of the ‘Pensées’—the veritable Pascal—is to be judged, not by +his weakness but by his strength; by his moments of clear mental sanity +and insight, and not by his moments of despair or of derisive mockery of +all human philosophy. + +This seems to us the true light in which to regard the famous wager-essay +on the existence of God, which has been a scandal even to some of his +greatest admirers. It is impossible to defend this essay on any +principle of sound philosophy. Either there is a God or there is not. +Which side of the question shall we take? “Reason,” he says, “cannot +decide.” The fact, he means, cannot be demonstrated according to his +customary use of the word reason. But if it cannot, there must yet be a +balance of reason, and proof on one side or the other. And the only fair +and manly issue of such a question must be, On which side lies this +balance? A valid theistic conclusion can be found in no other way, and +least of all in any calculation of chances, or balance of self-interest. +And yet it is this last which Pascal has put forward with such prominence +in this famous essay. “Wager,” he says. “If you win, you win +everything; if you lose, you lose nothing. Wager, then, without +hesitation, that God exists. . . . On one side is an eternity of life, +of infinite blessedness to be gained, and what you stake is finite. . . . +Our proposition is, that the finite is to be vested in a wager, in which +there is an equal chance of gain and loss, and _infinitude to gain_.” +The play was hardly worthy of Pascal, and the ‘mystery of the game’ could +certainly never be unravelled in any such way. But not a few minds like +Pascal’s—with deep spiritual intuitions and yet a craving for scientific +certainty constantly mocking these intuitions—have felt in a similar +manner the hazard of the great question, and may have said to themselves, +“We must take our stand, and this is the side which weighs in the +balance. We can lose nothing; we may gain everything.” The mood is not +a lofty one, and it is no higher in Pascal than in any one else; but +there are moments of terrible doubt, when the soul is so borne away on +the surge of the sceptical wave that rises from the depth of all human +speculation, that it can only cling to the Divine by an effort of will, +and with something of the gamester’s thought that this is the winning +side! The thought may be shallow and poor in itself, but in such cases +it comes not out of the shallows but out of the depths of a mind torn by +distracting doubts in the face of the dreadful problems of life. + +Out of the same depth of spiritual experience and trenchant moral +analysis comes all that is true and valuable in his so-called ‘Apology.’ +That the ‘Pensées’ were more or less designed to form such an Apology—to +be woven into the plan of a treatise in defence of the Christian +religion—seems beyond doubt. He had himself, according to the statement +of his nephew, unfolded such a plan to his friends, in a lengthened +conversation about the year 1657 or 1659. They were charmed with the +loftiness of his design, and listened to his exposition of it for two or +three hours with unabated interest. He was to commence with an analysis +of human nature, and to advance from the contemplation of its mysteries, +obscurities, and perplexities, to the consideration of the various +methods, philosophical and religious, by which reason had endeavoured to +meet the difficulties of thought and life. After explaining the +inconclusiveness and absurdities of these methods—represented by the +diverse philosophies and religions of the world—he was to call attention +to the Jewish religion, and the superiority which it presents to all +others, both in the extraordinary circumstances of its history, and in +the revelation which it gives of one God, Creator and Governor of the +world, and of the origin of man—his primitive innocence and fall. The +idea of the fall, which was a central one in all Pascal’s thoughts, was +to be fully expounded, in its own character and as “the source not only +of whatever is most inexplicable in man’s nature, but also of a multitude +of things, external to him, of which he knows not the causes.” From the +fall he was to pass to the hopes of deliverance revealed in the Old +Testament, and especially the lofty conception which it gives of God as a +God of love, a feature peculiar to it, and “which he deemed the essence +of true religion.” + +From such general considerations—of the nature of prolegomena or +“preparation” for the reader’s mind—he proceeded to furnish a brief view +of “the positive proofs of the truths he wanted to establish,—proofs +derived from the authenticity of the books of Moses, especially the +miracles they record, the figures and types they embody.” He then went +on more at length to prove the truth of religion from prophecy, which he +is represented as having studied deeply, and certain views of which, “of +a nature wholly original,” he explained with great clearness. Finally, +“after going through the books of the Old Testament,” he advanced to +those of the New, “and deduced from them his crowning proofs of the +truths of the Gospel.” He began with Christ, whose divine mission he +already supposed to be established by the argument from prophecy, and +added additional force of evidence from His resurrection, His miracles, +His doctrines, and the tenor of His life; then from the character and +mission of the apostles; and lastly, from the style and manner of the New +Testament books, and especially of the Gospels, “the multitude of +miracles, martyrs, and the saints,”—in a word, from all “by which the +Christian religion is so triumphantly established.” + +It is needless to say how imperfectly this design was ever accomplished; +and no ingenuity of restoration can make of Pascal’s apologetic plan +anything but a mass of imperfect fragments. Yet he has left us a +definite series of Thoughts on the Jewish religion, on Miracles, Figures, +and Prophecy, and also on Jesus Christ and the general character of the +Christian religion. In these Thoughts, it must be admitted, there is but +little to reward our study in comparison with those of a more +introductory and philosophical nature. Pascal’s genius was in no degree +historical, and but slightly critical—not to mention that the very idea +of historical criticism had not emerged in his time, nor long afterwards. +While realising so profoundly the perplexities of human experience, he +has no conception of the difficulties that beset historical tradition; +nor do his habits of scientific investigation, and the natural severity +and logical rigour of his mind, seem to have suggested to him any +misgivings as to the prevalence of miraculous agency in the world. The +perfect faith with which he accepted the “miracle” of the Holy Thorn is a +sufficient indication of his state of mind in this respect, and how ready +he was to accept evidence the very idea of which merely excites a smile +of wonder in the modern mind. + +It cannot be said, therefore, to be any matter of regret that Pascal did +not live to complete the historical portion of his projected work,—what +he seems himself, from the report of his friends, to have considered the +main structure of the defence he intended to rear on behalf of the +religion so dear to him. He expended his real strength on the portico to +the designed temple. His genius fitted him to deal with this, and with +this alone, in any adequate manner. His moral analysis, at once keen and +veracious, enabled him not only to lay bare all the “disproportions” of +humanity, but, moreover, to unfold the adaptation of Christianity as a +spiritual system to meet and remedy these disproportions. This is the +real “apologetic” work of the ‘Pensées,’ and the only one for which +Pascal’s mind pre-eminently fitted him. He sees in the Gospel a Divine +Power which is capable of ministering to man’s higher wants—a power of +infinite compassion towards human weakness and misery, of infinite help +for the one and remedy for the other. The Christian religion, according +to him, alone “understands at once man’s greatness and degradation, and +the reason of both the one and the other.” “It is equally important for +man to know his capacity of being like God and his unworthiness of Him. +To know of God without knowing his misery, or to know his misery without +knowing the Redeemer, who alone can deliver him from it, is alike +dangerous. The one knowledge constitutes the pride of the philosopher, +the other the despair of the atheist. Man must therefore have the double +experience, and so it has pleased God to reveal it. This the Christian +religion does; in this it consists.” Again: “Christ is the centre in +which alone we find at once God and our misery. In Him alone we have a +God whom we must approach without pride, and before whom we may yet bow +without despair.” In another and more lengthened passage he brings the +two ideas of human corruption and divine redemption closely together, the +one as supplementary of the other, and expressly emphasises the +perfection with which Christianity fits so to speak, into all the wards +of the human enigma,—in comparison with every system of human philosophy. + + “Without divine knowledge,” he says, “what have men been able to do + save to exalt themselves in the consciousness of their original + greatness, or abase themselves in the view of their present weakness? + Unable to see the whole truth, they have never attained to perfect + virtue. One class considering nature as incorrupt, another as + irreparable, they have been alternately the victims of pride or + sensuality—the two sources of all vice. . . . If, in one case, they + recognised man’s excellence, they ignored his corruption; and so, in + escaping indulgence, they lost themselves in pride. In the other + case, in acknowledging his weakness they ignored his dignity, and, + while escaping vanity, plunged into despair. Hence the diverse sects + of Stoics and Epicureans, of Dogmatists and Academicians, etc. The + Christian religion alone can reconcile these discrepancies and cure + both evils, not by expelling the one by the other, according to the + wisdom of this world, but by expelling both the one and the other by + the simplicity of the Gospel. For it teaches the just that while it + elevates them even to be partakers of the divine nature, they still + carry with them in this lofty state the source of all their + corruption, making them during life subjects of error, misery, death, + and sin. At the same time, it proclaims to the most impious that + they are capable of becoming partakers of a Redeemer’s grace. By + thus warning those whom it justifies, and consoling those whom it + condemns, it tempers with just measure fear and hope, through the + twofold capacity in all of grace and sin; so that it abases + infinitely more than reason, yet without producing despair, and + exalts infinitely more than natural pride, yet without puffing + up,—plainly showing that it alone is exempt from all error and wrong, + and possesses the power at once of instructing and correcting men. + Who, then, can withhold his belief in this revelation, or refuse to + adore its celestial light? For is it not more clear than day that we + feel in ourselves the ineffaceable traces of divine excellence? And + it is equally clear that we experience every hour the effects of our + fall and ruin. What, then, comes to us from all this chaos and wild + confusion, in a voice of irresistible conviction, but the + irrefragable truth of both those sides of humanity?” {199} + +This passage conveys very clearly at once the gist of Pascal’s philosophy +and the chief merit of his line of Christian apology. The two cannot be +separated. They run constantly into one another. He was a Christian +apologist in so far as he was a Christian philosopher; and those who +reject his line of Christian defence, will also reject his whole mode of +thought. To him the only solution of human perplexity in thought and +life is Christ. He is the “object and centre of all things, in whom +alone all contradictions are reconciled.” This is the conclusion of his +intelligence, and not of his despair. Whatever may be the traces of +scepticism in his intellectual nature, it is doing him great injustice to +represent his acceptance of Christianity as a mere refuge from +uncertainty. He is a totally different man from Huet, with whom Cousin +has ventured to compare him in this respect. He never dallies on the +surface; mere traditionalism has but a slight hold of him. He is a +Christian not because he has been taught Christianity, or because the +Church as a divine institution claims his allegiance. All these +influences may have affected him, and given a turn to his mind; but they +do not touch the essence of his thoughts. Anything he does say of the +external claims of Christianity has but little weight. It is out of the +depths of his own spiritual experience that his faith is born. It is a +voice within him, a conflicting cry of weakness and aspiration going up +everywhere from humanity, that find their answer in Christ. There is the +enigma of man on the one side, to him otherwise hopeless, and Christ on +the other, holding the keys of the enigma in His hand. The solution +appeared to him perfect, according to his study and analysis of the +problem—the twofoldness that he found in man, of divine dignity on the +one hand, and frivolous, sensual degradation on the other. Both facts, +he says, are equally clear and certain. Man’s fall from a state of +divine innocence alone explains them; and the Gospel alone recognises the +one side as well as the other of human nature, and provides a Power +capable of restoring its true balance and rectifying all its disorder. +He felt in himself the might of this power healing all the wounds of his +own heart, and binding up the shreds of his Christian efforts “to do +justly, and love mercy, and walk humbly with God.” Whether we agree with +all his analyses, or recognise all the adaptations which he describes, it +is impossible not to feel that they were living to him, and that he saw +in Christianity not merely a refuge for the disappointed heart, but a +true philosophy of life—the only “sure and sound philosophy,” as Justin +Martyr had found long before him. + +It is in the same spirit that he writes in many of his later ‘Pensées.’ +Some of the passages already quoted are in fact taken from the chapter +“On the Christian Religion,” which appears to have been intended to form +one of the concluding chapters of his Apology. But he repeats over and +over again the same strain—that the present condition of man is only +intelligible in the light of the Christian revelation, and that this +revelation alone answers to all man’s necessities. Christ has not only +proclaimed a higher truth to man, which man is bound to accept under +penalties of default. This tone is also found sometimes, but +comparatively seldom. The prevailing note is, that there is an admirable +fitness between the two—the mysteries of human nature witnessing to the +divine veracity of the Gospel, and the Gospel again holding the only key +to these mysteries, and the only power of unravelling them and restoring +them to their divine original. “Jesus Christ,” he says, “is for all men; +Moses for one people.” “The knowledge of God without a knowledge of our +misery produces pride; that of our misery without God leads to despair. +The knowledge of Jesus is the means by which we at once find God and our +misery.” “Without Jesus Christ man is sunk in vice and misery. . . . In +Him is all our virtue and felicity.” + +Of the more directly apologetic ‘Pensées’ of Pascal there are many of +great significance and interest, slight as may be the value of his +general historical argument, so far as this can be traced. Wherever he +trusts to his own clear judgment and profound penetration, he throws out +sentences weighty with meaning, and capable of being expanded into trains +of argument. Our shortening space warns us that our quotations must come +to an end; but the reader may thank us for drawing his attention to the +following:— + + “Even when Epictetus had discovered the right way, he could only say + to man, ‘You follow a wrong one.’ He shows that there is another, + but he does not lead to it. . . . Jesus Christ alone leads to + it—_via_, _veritas_. + + “Jesus Christ has spoken great things so simply that they seem to + have cost Him little thought—and yet so fitly that we see well what + His thought was.” [This combination of clearness and _naïveté_ is + admirable.] + + “The apostles were either deceived or deceivers; either supposition + is full of difficulty. + + “What right have they to say, ‘It is impossible that we should rise + again’? Which is the more difficult to be—to be born, or to be + raised from the dead? Is it less difficult to come into being than + to return to being? Custom (experience) renders the one easy to us; + the want of custom makes the other seem impossible. But _this is a + popular way of judging_. + + “Who taught the evangelists the qualities of a truly heroic soul, + that they should paint it to such perfection in Jesus Christ? Why + have they made Him weak in His agony? Did they not know how to + describe a death of fortitude? Assuredly; for it is the same St Luke + paints St Stephen’s death as so much braver than that of Jesus + Christ. They have made Him capable of fear before the necessity of + death had come, then entirely calm and brave. But when they show Him + in trouble, the trouble comes from Himself; in the face of men He + remains unmoved. + + “The highest achievement of reason is to recognise that there is an + infinity of things which surpass its powers. + + “If we submit everything to reason, our religion would have nothing + mysterious or supernatural. If we violate the principles of reason, + our religion will be absurd and ridiculous. + + “There are two extremes—to exclude reason, and to admit only reason. + + “It is your own consent, and the steady voice of your own reason, and + not that of others, which must make you believe. + + “If antiquity was the rule of faith, the ancients were without a + rule. + + “Let them say what they will, it must be confessed that the Christian + religion is something astonishing. ‘That is because you were born in + it,’ they say. So far from this, I am on my guard against it on this + very account, lest this incline me unduly to it. But though I was + born in it, the facts are not the less as I find them.” + +True to his whole conception of religion as the free choice of the heart +and will, Pascal does not find any special difficulty in the fact of so +many rejecting Christianity. It is of its very nature that it cannot be +forced on any mind. The God of the Gospel can only be reached by faith. +To all without faith, or the inner eye to see Him, He is a _Deus +absconditus_, “a God who hides himself.” In one of his letters to +Mademoiselle de Roannez, he dwells upon this idea, which also continually +recurs in his Thoughts:— + + “If God continually revealed Himself to man, faith would have no + value; we could not help believing. If He did not reveal Himself, + there could be no such thing as faith. While hiding Himself, He yet + reveals Himself to those who are willing to be His servants. . . . + All things hide a mystery. All are a veil which conceal God. The + Christian must recognise Him in all. . . . There is light enough for + those who wish to see, but darkness enough for those who are of an + opposite disposition. . . . For God would rather move the will than + the intellect. Perfect clearness would cure the one, but injure the + other.” + +And so this great mind comes round once more to its central thought, that +religion is born not of science, but of love and faith. Christianity +appeared to Pascal divine—as the only true interpreter of human +experience; and where this experience bore no witness to it, and found no +blessing in it, the fault and the misery were its own. The divine light +was not gone because men did not see it, when they were not willing to +see it. This may seem a hard saying,—a paradox of faith rejoicing in its +own illumination, rather than an utterance of reason challenging the +world. But can a divine appeal ever go further? Christian apology has +its own sphere, no less than science; and the evidence which the one +desiderates is not the supreme life and power of the other. It may not +on this account be the less satisfactory or the less rational when the +whole life of humanity is looked at. + +If we ask ourselves, in conclusion, what is the chief charm of the +‘Pensées,’ we feel inclined to answer,—their touching reality. They are +the utterances of one who thought not only deeply but passionately. A +strange thrill of personal emotion runs through them all, animating them +with vitality, even when one-sided or extravagant. One of his own +countrymen {204} has said of Pascal that it was his mission to do for +theology what Socrates did for philosophy—to bring it down from heaven to +earth. And certainly there is the breathing movement as of a human heart +through his whole writings. More than anything else, it is this vitality +combined with his exquisite literary art which sets him above all his +friends and contemporaries—Arnauld, De Saci, Le Maitre, Nicole, or +Fontaine. Still, when we read the ‘Provincial Letters’ or the ‘Pensées,’ +we feel ourselves in communion with a living writer who knew how to light +up with an immortal touch both the follies of ecclesiasticism and the +struggles of a solitary spirit after truth. The tenderness of a genuine +insight mingles with all the sublimity and severe reserve of the thought, +and so we get close to a true soul, distant as Pascal himself in some +respects remains to us. The play of human feeling which we miss in the +man moves in his writings, and touches our hearts with an ineffable +sympathy, even when we remain unconvinced or unenlightened. + + END OF PASCAL. + + + + +NOTES. + + +{3} Lettres, Opuscules, et Mémoires de Madame Périer et de Jacqueline, +Sœurs de Pascal, et de Marguerite Périer, sa nièce; publiés sur les +Manuscrits originaux, par M. P. Faugère. Paris, 1845. + +{4a} Jacqueline Pascal, par M. Victor Cousin. Troisième éd. 1856. +Lélut, L’Amulette de Pascal. Paris, 1846. + +{4b} Sainte-Beuve. Port Royal. Tom. ii. iii. Mr Beard, in his two +volumes on Port Royal, gives an excellent sketch of Blaise and Jacqueline +Pascal, in which he has made a diligent use of all the recent French +authorities on the subject. + +{4c} British Quarterly Review, August 1850. + +{5} The Provincial Parliaments in France before the Revolution +discharged within a definite area the same judicial and administrative +functions as the Parliament of Paris; but they were always regarded as +offshoots of the latter, and subordinate to its supreme direction. They +possessed no lawful political powers. Lalanne, Dictionnaire Historique, +Art. “Parl.,” p. 1421. The “Court of Aides,” according to the same +authority, p. 32, decided in the last resort civil and criminal processes +relating to subsidies, assessments, and taxes in general, and +superintended the collection of the royal revenues. + +{6a} Gilberte Pascal—Madame Périer—says, in her life of her brother, +1626. Marguerite Périer, her daughter, Pascal’s niece, says 1628. +Cousin (B. Pascal), App. I. 315. Faugère, Lettres, Opuscules, etc., p. +419. + +{6b} Cousin, Jacqueline Pascal, p. 23. + +{7} Memoir by Marguerite Périer, her daughter, quoted by Cousin, ibid., +p. 24. “Do not think,” adds Cousin, “that this portrait is embellished: +the austere Marguerite flatters no one; and if she, a Jansenist, says +that her mother was beautiful, we may be sure that she was very much so.” + +{10} “The exterior angle of a triangle is equal to the two interior and +opposite angles; and the three interior angles are together equal to two +right angles.” + +{11} Baillet, Vie de Descartes, liv. V. c. v. p. 39. + +{12} + + “Ne vous étonnez pas, incomparable Armand, + Si j’ai mal contenté vos yeux et vos oreilles; + Mon esprit agité de frayeurs sans pareilles + Interdit à mon corps et voix et mouvement. + Mais pour me rendre ici capable de vous plaire, + Rappelez de l’exil mon misérable père.” + +{13} Cousin, Jacqueline Pascal, pp. 72–75. + +{15} The Intendant was a special Royal Commissioner, sent into the +provinces to watch over the administration of justice and the finances. + +{16} See Cousin, Jacqueline Pascal, pp. 78–80. + +{17} M. Lélut’s volume (already referred to) deserves special attention +in its bearing on Pascal’s health, and the character of his sufferings. +He lays great stress on Pascal’s highly-strung nervous constitution, in +connection both with the precocity of his genius, his physical +sufferings, his religious susceptibility, and the profound melancholy +which affected his later years. The study is very interesting in some +respects, but is overstrained in its physiological details and imaginary +analysis. + +{18} Madame Périer, Vie de Pascal. + +{20} A disciple and friend of François de Sales, who had been bishop of +Bellay or Belley, but had at this time demitted his bishopric for the +Abbey of Aulney-Havet. + +{21} The documents containing these details are found among the Pascal +MSS. in the National Library at Paris, having been given by Marguerite +Périer to one of the Guerrier family, by whose care so many interesting +memorials of Pascal have been preserved. See Faugère, Int. to Ed. of +Pensées, xlvi.-ix. + +{23a} Cousin, app. 392. + +{23b} Faugère, Lettres, Opuscules, etc., p. 452. It is difficult to +make out the exact chronological sequence of some of the facts mentioned +by Pascal’s sister and niece. But a special accession of ill-health, +according to both, seems to have followed his conversion at Rouen, and to +have been amongst the causes of his removal to Paris in 1647. + +{23c} Pp. 134–137. + +{26a} Jacqueline Pascal, p. 73. + +{26b} Œuvres de Blaise Pascal, t. 4. Paris, 1819. + +{28a} North British Review, August 1844, p. 296. + +{28b} I owe this information to the kindness of my friend, Professor +Tait of Edinburgh. He further informs me that “of late years the +calculating machine of M. Scheutz has been employed in the production of +many valuable tables almost hopelessly beyond the power of mere mental +calculation;” and that a very simple and ingenious machine, known as the +Arithmomètre of M. Thomas, is to be found in the office of almost every +engineer and actuary. + +{29a} Letter to M. Ribeyre, Œuvres, t. iv. + +{29b} The illustrious Italian was then advanced in years. He died in +January 1642. + +{31} Œuvres, t. iv. pp. 160,161. + +{33} Sir D. Brewster, in an article on Pascal’s Writings and Discoveries +in North Brit. Rev., Aug. 1844. Sir David’s account is almost literally +translated from M. Périer’s letter to Pascal, of date September 22, 1648, +and embodied in Pascal’s “Récit de la grande Expérience de l’Équilibre +des Liqueurs,” first published in 1648. + +{39a} Cousin, Jacqueline Pascal, p. 94. + +{39b} “Evidently,” says Cousin, “M. Habert de Montmor, the Mæcenas of +the _savants_ of the time.” + +{41} Blaise Pascal. Préface de la nouvelle éd., P. 46. Œuvres, t. i. +1849. + +{42a} Jus mihi esset hoc ipsum ab ipso potius quam a te expectare, ideo +quod ego ipsi, jam biennium effluxit, auctor fuerim ejus experimenti +faciendi, eumque certum reddiderim, nec de successu non dubitare, +quamquam id experimentum nunquam fecerim. Verum quoniam D. R. amicitia +junctus est qui mihi ultro adversatus . . . non sine ratione credendum +est eum sequi passiones amici sui.—Descartes, Epist. Amstelodami, 1683. + +{42b} Discours sur la Vie et les Ouvrages de Pascal, p. xviii. + +{43a} Any reader curious as to how far Descartes had advanced in this +matter may consult Montucla, Histoire des Mathématiques, vol. vi. p. 205. +Montucla, no less than Baillet, writes with a clear bias in Descartes’s +favour. + +{43b} Récit de la grande Expérience de l’Équilibre des Liqueurs. +Œuvres, t. iv. p. 301—“Je méditai des lors l’expérience dont je fais voir +ici le Récit.” + +{44} Intererat mea id rescire, ipse enim petii ab illo, jam exacto +biennio, ut id faceret, eumque pulchri successus certum reddidi, quod +esset omnino conforme meis Principiis, absque quo nunquam de eo +cogitasset, eo quod contrariâ tenebatur sententiâ.—Ep. lxix., ibid. + +{45a} Professor Tait, article “Vacuum,” Chambers’s Encyclopedia. + +{45b} These further researches are expounded in two treatises, ‘De +l’Équilibre des Liqueurs,’ and ‘De la Pesanteur de l’Air,’ supposed to +have been written in 1653, but not published till 1663, after the +author’s death. + +{46a} North British Review, August 1844. Sir David in the main +translates from M. Bossut’s “Discours.” + +{46b} Œuvres, t. iv. p. 187. + +{50} Faugère, Lettres, etc., p. 80. + +{51} Vie de Pascal. + +{54a} Cousin, Vie de Jacqueline, p. 43. + +{54b} Ibid., p. 101. + +{55} B. Pascal, app. vii. p. 491. + +{58} Vie de Jacqueline. + +{59} Cousin’s Jacqueline, p. 189. + +{60} Cousin’s Jacqueline, p. 161. + +{61} Relation de la Sœur Jacqueline de Sainte-Euphémie Pascal à Port +Royal, 10 Juin 1653—a long narrative, extending to about 50 pages of +Cousin’s volume. See also Lettres, Opuscules, etc., ed. by Faugère, pp. +177–222. + +{63a} Relation de la Sœur Jacqueline, etc., p. 182. + +{63b} Ibid., p. 187. + +{63c} Ibid., p. 194. + +{63d} Mémoire, Faugère, p. 453. + +{64} Jacqueline Pascal, pp. 237, 244. + +{65a} Marguerite Périer says that Pascal had always a room at the Duc de +Roannez’s, and that he stayed there frequently, although he had a house +of his own in Paris. + +{65b} Lélut, p. 234. Women throughout this time took the lead, and were +never so active, even in French politics. “Beautiful, witty, and +dissolute, they brought into public affairs their frivolous ideas, and +sacrificed to their vanity their honour and that of their houses.”—La +Vallée, Hist. des Français, t. iii. p. 195, quoted in Kitchin’s Hist. of +France, vol. iii. p. 114. + +{66} Lélut, p. 238. + +{67a} Pensées, éd. de M. Faugère, t. i p. 197. + +{67b} Ibid., t. ii p. 91. + +{67c} Faugère, Introduction. + +{67d} Blaise Pascal, App. No. 7. + +{68a} Blaise Pascal, App. No. 7. + +{68b} Introd. to Ed. of Pensées. + +{71} Il prit la résolution de suivre le train commun du monde, +c’est-à-dire de prendre une charge et se marier.—Faugère, p. 453. + +{76} “D’horribles attaches”—an expression already alluded to, which has +given rise to a good deal of speculation.—Jacqueline Pascal, Cousin, p. +237. + +{77} Cousin, Jacqueline Pascal, pp. 236–241. + +{87} Fontaine, vol. i. p. 354. + +{89} See Beard’s Port Royal, vol. i. pp. 207, 208. + +{90} Recueil d’Utrecht, quoted by Maynard, vol. i. p. 78. + +{91} + + L’an de grâce 1654. + Lundi 23 novémbre, jour de St Clément, pape et martyr, et autres au + martyrologe. + Veille de St Chrysogone, martyr et autres. + Depuis environ dix heures et demie du soir jusques environ minuit et + demi. + Feu. + Dieu d’Abraham, Dieu d’Isaac, Dieu de Jacob, + Non des philosophes et de savants. + Certitude. Certitude. Sentiment. Joie. Paix. {92} + Dieu de Jésus-Christ + Deum meum et Deum vestrum. + Ton Dieu sera mon Dieu— + Oubli du monde et de tout hormis Dieu. + Il ne se trouve que par les voies enseignées dans l’Evangile. + Grandeur de l’âme humaine. + Père juste, le monde ne t’a point connu, mais je t’ai connu. + Joie, joie, joie, pleurs de joie. + Je m’en suis séparé— + Dereliquerunt me fontem aquæ vivæ. + Mon Dieu me quitterez-vous?— + Que je n’en sois pas séparé éternellement! + Cette est la vie éternelle qu’ils te connaissent seul + vrai Dieu et celui que tu as envoyé, J.-C. + Jésus Christ— + Jésus Christ— + Je m’en suis séparé; je l’ai fui, renoncé, crucifié. + Que je n’en sois jamais séparé! + Il ne se conserve que par les voies enseignées dans l’Evangile. + Renonciation totale et douce, + etc. + +{92} In the parchment copy, “Certitude, joie, certitude, sentiment, vue, +joie.” + +{94} The evidence of an anonymous MS. in the collection of P. Guerrier, +grandnephew of Pascal, in which the story is told on the authority of two +friends of the Pascal family, M. Arnoul de St Victor and M. le Pierre de +Barillon. The evidence for the story of the abyss is not even +contemporaneous. It comes from an Abbé Boileau, unconnected with the +poet of that name, who first told it in a volume of letters published in +1737. + +{95} Leibnitziana, quoted by Sainte-Beuve, t. iii. p. 286. + +{97} Pensées, t. ii. p 76, 2d ed., Havet. + +{101} Recueil d’Utrecht, Maynard, vol. i. p. 555. + +{102} The most authentic portrait of Pascal is probably that prefixed by +M. Faugère to his edition of the ‘Pensées.’ The sketch, in red chalk, +was found amongst the papers of M. Domat, an eminent advocate, and one of +Pascal’s well-known friends. It bears below an inscription by Domat’s +son—“Portrait de M. Pascal fait par mon père”—and is supposed to +represent him in his earlier years, when he studied natural philosophy +along with his friend. + +{105} The following genealogy, from a Jesuit source, represents not +unfairly the origin of Jansenism and Port Royalism as a theological +system: “Paulus genuit Augustinum; Augustinus Calvinum; Calvinus +Jansenium; Jansenius Sancyranum; Sancyranus Arnaldum et fratres ejus.” +The sequel will show how earnestly Pascal disclaims Calvinism. + +{106} “Attrition” is a scholastic term for the first acute emotions of +the grace of repentance. “Contrition” denotes the grace in a more +advanced stage of development. + +{107} The full title is, “Cornelii Jansenii Episcopi Iprensis +Augustinus: seu doctrina S. Augustini de humanæ naturæ sanitate, +ægritudine, medicinâ, adversus Pelagianos et Massilienses.” + +{108} Beard’s Port Royal, vol. i. p. 243. + +{116a} Recueil d’Utrecht, p. 271. See also Sainte-Beuve, vol. iii. p. +536. + +{116b} _Curieux_ in the sense, says Sainte-Beuve, of _bel-esprit_, +_amateur_. + +{120} A name applied to the Jesuits after Louis Molina, a Spanish Jesuit +(1535–1600), whose “Scientia Media,” akin to the Arminian doctrine of +Divine foreknowledge, was very famous in its day. + +{132} Beard’s Port Royal, vol. i. p. 271. Founded on Recueil d’Utrecht, +p. 278, and Sainte-Beuve, t. ii. p. 555. + +{133} M. Sainte-Beuve connects only the two concluding Letters with the +first two, but the sixteenth Letter also, upon the whole, as a direct +defence of Jansen and Port Royal, may be said to connect itself with +these rather than with the intervening series assailing the Jesuits. +There were eighteen Letters in all published by Pascal, but there is a +brief fragment of a nineteenth Letter supposed to be also from his pen, +and a farther Letter from the pen of M. le Maitre on the Inquisition, +commonly printed along with the others. + +{138} After the Edict of Nantes (1598), the Protestants were permitted +to assemble for worship at Charenton, a small town about four miles from +Paris. + +{144a} Letter V. + +{144b} “The grand project of our Society,” Pascal makes his Jesuit +informant say (Letter VI.), “is for the good of religion, never to +repulse any one, let him be what he may, and so avoid driving people to +despair.” + +{147} Letter IV. + +{148} Letter IV. + +{150a} Letter X. + +{150b} “Who is Escobar?” Pascal represents himself as inquiring in the +fifth Letter. “Not know Escobar?” cries the monk; “the member of the +Society who compiled a Moral Theology from twenty-four of our fathers.” +This book, which Pascal says he “read twice through,” was the great +repository from which he gathered the details of Jesuit doctrine which he +exposes with such minuteness. Escobar, like so many of the chief Jesuit +writers, was a Spaniard, born at Valladolid in 1589. His name became a +sort of proverb in connection with their casuistical system, and +“escobarder” came to signify “to palter in a double sense.” + +{151a} Letter XI. + +{151b} Ibid. + +{152} Letter XV. + +{153} This is Sainte-Beuve’s statement (t. iii. p. 138), repeated by Mr +Beard, and founded apparently on Nicole. + +{156} Nicole’s translation into Latin of the ‘Provincial Letters,’ in +preparation for which he is said to have read repeatedly over all the +plays of Terence, appeared at Cologne in 1658, about a year after their +completion. + +{164} These lectures will be found, translated by the writer of the +present volume, in Kitto’s Journal of Sacred Literature, April-October, +1849. + +{165} In his Mémoires de Littérature et d’Histoire. + +{166} Faugère, i. pp. 123–129. + +{168} Faugère, i. pp. 149–152. + +{171} See p. 66. + +{174} Chiefly from Pensées Diverses.—Faugère’s ed., vol. i. pp. 177–242. + +{176} The following passage from Fontaine’s Memoirs, quoted by Cousin +(B. Pascal, p. 132), gives an interesting and lively glimpse of the +philosophical discourses at Port Royal. It may not be without some +application to the modern no less than the original Cartesian doctrine. +“How many little agitations raised themselves in this desert touching the +human science of philosophy and the new opinions of M. Descartes! As M. +Arnauld in his hours of relaxation conversed on these subjects with his +more intimate friends, the excitement spread on every side, and the +solitude, in the hours of social intercourse, resounded with these +discussions. There was hardly a solitary who did not talk of ‘automata.’ +To beat a dog was no longer a matter of any moment. The stick was laid +on with the utmost indifference, and a great fool was made of those who +pitied the animals, _as if they had any feeling_. They said they were +only clockwork, and that the cries they uttered when they were beaten +were no more than the noise of some little spring that had been moved, +and that all this involved no sensation. They nailed the poor animals +upon boards by the fore-paws, in order to dissect them while still alive, +and to see the circulation of the blood, which was a great subject of +discussion. The chateau of the Duc de Luynes was the source of all these +curious inquiries, and a source that was inexhaustible. There they +talked incessantly, and with admiration, of the new system of the world +according to M. Descartes.” + +{177} Fragment sur la Philosophie de Descartes. + +{185} Havet, i. pp. cxxiv-cxxxiii + +{186} Faugère, ii. pp. 81, 82. + +{187} Faugère, ii. pp. 91, 92, 99, 104. + +{189} Faugère, p. 108. + +{190} Faugère, p. 84. + +{199} Faugère, ii. pp. 136, 137. + +{204} The lamented Prévost Paradol, Études sur les Moralistes Français. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PASCAL*** + + +******* This file should be named 26726-0.txt or 26726-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/6/7/2/26726 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Pascal + + +Author: John Tulloch + +Editor: Mrs. Oliphant + +Release Date: September 29, 2008 [eBook #26726] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PASCAL*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>This ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler.</p> +<h1>PASCAL</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +PRINCIPAL TULLOCH</p> +<p style="text-align: center">WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS<br /> +<span class="smcap">edinburgh and london</span><br /> +1878.—<span class="smcap">reprint</span>, 1882</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>All Rights reserved</i></p> +<h2><!-- page i--><a name="pagei"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +i</span>PREFATORY NOTE.</h2> +<p>The translations in this volume are chiefly my own; but I have +also taken expressions and sentences freely from others—and +especially from Dr M’Crie, in his translation of the +‘Provincial Letters’—when they seemed to convey +well the sense of the original. It would be impossible to +distinguish in all cases between what is my own and what I have +borrowed. The ‘Provincial Letters’ have been +translated at least four times into English. The +translation of Dr M’Crie, published in 1846, is the most +spirited. The ‘Pensées’ were translated +by the Rev. Edward Craig, A.M. Oxon., in 1825, following the +French edition of 1819, which again followed that of Bossut in +1779. A new translation, both of the ‘Letters’ +and ‘Pensées,’ by George Pearce, +Esq.—the latter after the restored text of M. +Faugère—appeared in 1849 and 1850.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">J. T.</p> +<h2><!-- page iii--><a name="pageiii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. iii</span>CONTENTS.</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">chap.</span></p> +</td> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">page</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right"> </p> +</td> +<td><p>INTRODUCTION</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page1">1</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">I.</p> +</td> +<td><p>PASCAL’S FAMILY AND YOUTH</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page5">5</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">II.</p> +</td> +<td><p>PASCAL’S SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERIES</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page25">25</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">III.</p> +</td> +<td><p>PASCAL IN THE WORLD</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page52">52</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">IV.</p> +</td> +<td><p>PORT ROYAL AND PASCAL’S LATER YEARS</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page74">74</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">V.</p> +</td> +<td><p>THE ‘PROVINCIAL LETTERS’</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page103">103</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">VI.</p> +</td> +<td><p>THE ‘PENSÉES’</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page157">157</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><!-- page 1--><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +1</span>INTRODUCTION.</h2> +<p>There are few names which have become more classical in modern +literature than that of Blaise Pascal. There is hardly any +name more famous at once in literature, science, and +religion. Cut off at the early age of thirty-nine—the +fatal age of genius—he had long before attained pre-eminent +distinction as a geometer and discoverer in physical science; +while the rumour of his genius as the author of the +‘Provincial Letters,’ and as one of the chiefs of a +notable school of religious thought, had spread far and +wide. His writings continue to be studied for the +perfection of their style and the vitality of their +substance. As a writer, he belongs to no school, and is +admired simply for his greatness by Encyclopedist and +Romanticist, by Catholic and Protestant alike,—by men like +Voltaire and Condorcet and Sainte-Beuve, no less than by men like +Bossuet, Vinet, and Neander. His +‘Pensées’ have been carefully restored, and +re-edited with minute and loving faithfulness in our time by +editors of such opposite tastes and tendencies as M. Prosper +Faugère, M. Havet, and M. Victor Rochet. <!-- page +2--><a name="page2"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 2</span>Cousin +considered it one of the glories of his long intellectual career +that he had first led the way to the remarkable restoration of +Pascal’s remains. Of all the illustrious names which +group themselves around Port Royal, it is Pascal alone, and +Racine—who was more its pupil, but less its +representative—whose genius can be said to survive, and to +invest it with an undying lustre.</p> +<p>Pascal’s early death, the reserve of his friends under +the assaults which the ‘Provincial Letters’ provoked, +and his very fame, as a writer, have served in some degree to +obscure his personality. To many a modern reader he is +little else than a great name. The man is hidden away +behind the author of the ‘Pensées,’ or the +defender of Port Royal. Some might even say that his +writings are now more admired than studied. They have been +so long the subject of eulogy that their classical character is +taken for granted, and the reader of the present day is content +to look at them from a respectful distance rather than +spontaneously study them for himself. There may be some +truth in this view. Pascal is certainly, like many other +great writers, far more widely known than he is understood or +appreciated. The old, which are still the common, editions +of the ‘Pensées,’ have also given a certain +commonplace to his reputation. It were certainly a worthy +task to set him more clearly before our age both as a man and as +a writer.</p> +<p>It is no easy task, however, to do this; and to tell the full +story of Pascal’s life is no longer possible. Its +records, numerous as they are, are incomplete; all fail more or +less at an interesting point of his career. They leave much +unexplained; and the most familiar confidences of his sisters and +niece, who have preserved <!-- page 3--><a name="page3"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 3</span>many interesting details regarding +him, have not entirely removed the veil from certain aspects of +his character. The well-known life by Madame Périer, +his elder sister, is of course the chief authentic source of his +biography. It was written shortly after his death, although +not published for some time later; and nothing can be more +lively, graphic, and yet dignified, than its portraiture of his +youthful precocity, and, again, of the devotions and austerities +of his later years. But it leaves many gaps +unsupplied. Like other memoirs of the kind, it is written +from a somewhat conventional point of view. No one, as M. +Havet says, was nearer to him in all senses of the expression, or +could have given a more true and complete account of all the +incidents in his life; but she was not only his sister, but his +enthusiastic friend and admirer, in whose eyes he was at once a +genius and a saint—a man of God, called to a great +mission. It was from a consciousness of this mission, and +the full glory of his religious fame, that she looked back upon +all his life; and the lines in which she draws it are coloured, +in consequence, too gravely and monotonously. Certain +particulars she drops out of sight altogether. These are to +be found scattered here and there, sometimes in his own letters, +more frequently in the letters of his younger sister, Jacqueline, +and in a supplementary memoir, written by his niece, Marguerite +Périer, all of which have been carefully published in our +time, and made accessible to any reader. <a +name="citation3"></a><a href="#footnote3" +class="citation">[3]</a> The researches of M. Cousin, M. +Faugère, and M. Havet, the <!-- page 4--><a +name="page4"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 4</span>curious and +interesting monograph of M. Lélut, <a +name="citation4a"></a><a href="#footnote4a" +class="citation">[4a]</a> have thrown light on various points; +while the copious portraiture of Sainte-Beuve <a +name="citation4b"></a><a href="#footnote4b" +class="citation">[4b]</a> has given to the whole an animation and +a desultory charm which no English pen need strive to +imitate.</p> +<p>My only hope, as my aim, will be in this little volume to set +before the English reader perhaps a more full and connected +account of the life and writings of Pascal than has yet appeared +in our language, freely availing myself of all the sources I have +indicated. And if long and loving familiarity with a +subject—an intimacy often renewed both with the +‘Provincial Letters’ and the +‘Pensées’—form any qualification for +such a task, I may be allowed to possess it. It is now +nearly thirty years since the study of Neander first drew me to +the study of Pascal; and I ventured, with the confidence of +youth, to draw from the ‘Pensées,’ which had +then recently appeared in the new and admirable edition of M. +Faugère, the outlines of a Christian Philosophy. <a +name="citation4c"></a><a href="#footnote4c" +class="citation">[4c]</a> I shall venture on no such +ambition within the bounds of this volume; but I trust I may be +able to bring together the story of Pascal’s life, +controversy, and thought in such a manner as to lead others to +the study of a writer truly great in the imperishable grandeur +and elevation of his ideas, no less than in the exquisite finish +and graces of his style.</p> +<h2><!-- page 5--><a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +5</span>CHAPTER I.<br /> +PASCAL’S FAMILY AND YOUTH.</h2> +<p>Blaise Pascal was born at Clermont-Ferrand on the 19th June +1623. He belonged to an old Auvergne family, Louis XI. +having ennobled one of its members for administrative services as +early as 1478, although no use was made of the title, at least in +the seventeenth century. The family cherished with more +pride its ancient connection with the legal or +‘Parliamentary’ institutions of their country. <a +name="citation5"></a><a href="#footnote5" +class="citation">[5]</a> Pascal’s grandfather, Martin +Pascal, was treasurer of France; and his father, Étienne, +after completing his legal studies in Paris, acquired the +position of Second President of the Court of Aides at +Clermont. In the year 1618 he married Antoinette Begon, who +became the mother of four children, of whom three survived and +<!-- page 6--><a name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +6</span>became distinguished. Madame Pascal died in 1626 or +1628; <a name="citation6a"></a><a href="#footnote6a" +class="citation">[6a]</a> and two years afterwards (in 1630) +Étienne Pascal abandoned his professional duties, and came +to Paris, in order that he might devote himself to the education +of his children.</p> +<p>Soon after the Pascal family settled in Paris, their character +and endowments seem to have attracted a widespread +interest. If not superior to the Arnaulds, they were no +less remarkable. They did not escape the penetrating eye of +Richelieu, who, as he looked upon the father with his son, then +fifteen years of age, and his two daughters, was so struck by +their beauty that he exclaimed, without waiting for their formal +introduction to him, that he <i>would like to make something +great of them</i>. <a name="citation6b"></a><a href="#footnote6b" +class="citation">[6b]</a> Étienne Pascal was a man +not only of official capacity, but of keen intellectual instincts +and aspirations. He shared eagerly in the scientific +enthusiasm of his time. A letter by him addressed to the +Jesuit Noël shows that the vein of satire, half pleasant, +half severe, which reached such perfection in the famous +‘Letters’ of his son, was not unknown to the +father. The careful and systematic education which he gave +to his son would alone have stamped him as a man of remarkable +intelligence.</p> +<p>Gilberte, Pascal’s elder sister and biographer, exerted +an influence upon his character only second to that of his +father. She married her cousin, M. Périer, also of a +Parliamentary family, and Counsellor of the Court of Aides at +Clermont. She was alike beautiful and <!-- page 7--><a +name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 7</span>accomplished, a +student of mathematics, philosophy, and history. <a +name="citation7"></a><a href="#footnote7" +class="citation">[7]</a> For a time she shared in the +enjoyments of the world, like other persons of her age and +condition; but the same impulses of religious enthusiasm which +animated the rest of her family led to her practical abandonment +of the world while still young. The memoirs which she +composed, both of her brother and sister, and her letters, all +indicate a high intelligence and a mingled dignity, sweetness, +and restraint of character, which made her their best counsellor +and friend.</p> +<p>The younger sister, Jacqueline, has been made a special study +by M. Cousin amongst the ‘Illustrious Women of the +Seventeenth Century.’ She was beautiful as her +sister, and a child of genius like her brother. She began +to compose verses at the age of eight, and in her eleventh year +assisted in the composition and the acting of a comedy in five +acts, which was a subject of universal talk in Paris. Her +powers, both as an actor and a verse-maker, made a wonderful +reputation at the time, which, as we shall see, was highly +serviceable to her after. Her verses, it must be confessed, +are somewhat artificial and hollow; but her letters, and, more +remarkable than either her verses or her letters, her +‘Thoughts’ on the ‘Mystery of the Death of +Christ,’ are in some respects very fine, and might even +claim a place beside some of those of her brother. They are +equally elevated in tone, and pervaded by the same subtle, +penetrating, radiant mysticism, the same rapture of +self-sacrificing aspiration, <!-- page 8--><a +name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 8</span>though lacking +the glow of inward fire and exquisite charm of style which marked +the author of the ‘Pensées.’ +Noble-minded and full of genius, she was yet without his depth +and power of feeling, or his skill and finish as an author. +In 1646 she came, along with her brother, and greatly through his +influence, strongly under the power of religion; and in 1652, +after her father’s death, she renounced the world, and +became one of the Sisters of Port Royal. She died amidst +the persecution of the Sisters in 1661, a year before her +brother.</p> +<p>In Paris the elder Pascal became a centre of men of congenial +intellectual tastes with himself, and his house a sort of +rendezvous for the mathematicians and the physicists of the +time. Among them were Descartes, Gassendi, Mersenne, +Roberval, Carcavi, and Le Pailleur; and from the frequent reunion +of these men is said to have sprung the Academy of Sciences +founded in 1666. It is interesting to notice that it was +into this same society that Hobbes was introduced on his first +and second visits to France, when he accompanied the future Duke +of Devonshire there as tutor. With Father Mersenne and +Gassendi especially he formed a warm friendship, which sheds an +interest over his life. Possibly in some of these reunions +the author of the ‘Leviathan’ may have encountered +the young Pascal, and joined in the half admiration and half +incredulity which his wonderful powers had begun to excite.</p> +<p>There never certainly was a more singular story of youthful +precocity than that which Madame Périer has given of her +brother, accustomed as we have become to such stories in the +lives of eminent men. Detecting the remarkable powers of +the boy, his father had formed <!-- page 9--><a +name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 9</span>very definite +resolutions as to his education. His chief maxim, Madame +Périer says, was always “to keep the boy above his +work.” And for this reason he did not wish him to +learn Latin till he was twelve years of age, when he might easily +acquire it. In the meantime, he sought to give him a +general idea of grammar—of its rules, and the exceptions to +which these rules are liable—and so to fit him to take up +the study of any language with intelligence and facility. +He endeavoured further to direct his son’s attention to the +more marked phenomena of nature, and such explanations as he +could give of them. But here the son’s perception +outstripped the father’s power of explanation. He +wished “to know the reason of everything;” and when +his father’s statements did not appear to him to give the +reason, he was far from satisfied.</p> +<blockquote><p>“For he had always an admirable perspicacity +in discerning what was false; and it may be said that in +everything and always truth was the sole object of his +mind. From his childhood he could only yield to what seemed +to him evidently true; and when others spoke of good reasons, he +tried to find them for himself. He never quitted a subject +until he had found some explanation which satisfied +him.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Once, among other occasions, he was so interested in the fact +that the sound emitted by a plate lying on a table when struck, +suddenly ceased on the plate being touched by the hand, that he +made an inquiry into sound in general, and drew so many +conclusions that he embodied them in a +“well-reasoned” treatise. At this time he was +only twelve years of age.</p> +<p>At the same age he gave still more astonishing evidence of his +precocious scientific capacities. His father, <!-- page +10--><a name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +10</span>perceiving his strong scientific bent, and desirous that +he should first of all acquaint himself with languages before the +absorption of the severer, but more engrossing, study seized him, +had withdrawn from his sight all mathematical books, and +carefully avoided the subject in the presence of his son when his +friends were present. This, as might be expected, only +quickened the curiosity of the boy, who frequently begged his +father to teach him mathematics, and the father promised to do so +as a reward when he knew Latin and Greek, which he was then +learning. Piqued by this resistance, the boy asked one day, +“What mathematical science was, and of what it +treated?” He was told that its aim was to make +figures correctly, and to find their right relations or +proportions to one another. He began, says his sister, to +meditate during his play-hours on the information thus +communicated to him.</p> +<blockquote><p>“And being alone in a room where he was +accustomed to amuse himself, he took a piece of charcoal and drew +figures upon the boards, trying, for example, to make a circle +perfectly round, a triangle of which the sides and angles were +equal, and similar figures. He succeeded in his task, and +then endeavoured to determine the proportion of the figures, +although so careful had his father been in hiding from him all +knowledge of the kind, that he did not even know the names of the +figures. He made names for himself, then definitions, then +axioms, and finally demonstrations; and in this way had pushed +his researches as far as the thirty-second proposition of the +first book of Euclid.” <a name="citation10"></a><a +href="#footnote10" class="citation">[10]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>At this point a ‘surprise’ visit of his father +arrested him in his task, although so absorbed was he in it, that +<!-- page 11--><a name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +11</span>he did not at first recognise his father’s +presence. The older Pascal, having satisfied himself of the +astonishing achievement which the youthful mathematician had +worked out for himself in solitude, ran with tears of joy to +communicate the fact to his friend M. le Pailleur. It was +agreed betwixt them that such an aptitude for science should no +longer be balked, and the lad was furnished with the means of +pursuing his mathematical studies. Before he had completed +his sixteenth year he had written the famous treatise on Conic +Sections which excited the “mingled incredulity and +astonishment” of Descartes. <a name="citation11"></a><a +href="#footnote11" class="citation">[11]</a></p> +<p>The happiness of Pascal’s home was suddenly interrupted +by an unforeseen calamity. On coming to Paris, his father +had invested his savings in bonds upon the Hotel de Ville. +The Government, impoverished by wars and extravagance, reduced +the value of these revenues, with the result of creating +discontent and calling forth expostulation from the disappointed +annuitants. Some of them met together, and, among others, +Étienne Pascal, and gave such vent to their feelings as to +alarm the Government. Richelieu took summary means of +asserting his authority and silencing the disturbers. The +meeting was denounced as seditious, and a warrant issued to +arrest the offenders and throw them into the Bastille. +Étienne Pascal, having become apprised of the hostile +designs of the Cardinal, contrived to conceal himself at first in +Paris, and afterwards took refuge in the solitude of his native +district. His children were left without his care, and +plunged in the greatest sorrow. At intervals, indeed, he +contrived to see them in secret, <!-- page 12--><a +name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 12</span>and is said +even to have nursed Jacqueline through a severe attack of the +smallpox, which impaired her hitherto remarkable beauty. +But all the pleasant companionship which he had enjoyed as their +instructor, and the centre of a group of intellectual friends, +was at an end. He could only visit his home by stealth.</p> +<p>At this crisis (February 1639) Richelieu took a fancy to have +Scudéry’s tragi-comedy of “L’Amour +Tyrannique” acted before him by young girls. The +Court lady who undertook the management of the piece appealed to +Jacqueline Pascal, whose accomplishments as a girl-actor were +well known, to assist in its performance. She was then +thirteen years of age. The elder sister, who, in the +enforced absence of the father, was acting as the head of the +family, replied, with feeling, that “they did not owe any +favour to M. le Cardinal, who had not acted kindly towards +them.” The request, however, was pressed, in the hope +that some good might come out of the affair to the family, and +Jacqueline was allowed to appear. The result was all that +could be anticipated. The Cardinal, charmed by the grace +and accomplishment of her acting, received her cordially when she +ventured to approach him with a petition on behalf of her father, +thrown into a form of verses similar to many which she had +already composed. The verses have been preserved with her +other pieces, and have been thus rendered:—<a +name="citation12"></a><a href="#footnote12" +class="citation">[12]</a></p> +<blockquote><p><!-- page 13--><a name="page13"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 13</span>“O marvel not, Armand, the +great, the wise,<br /> +If I have failed to please thine ear, thine eyes;<br /> +My sorrowing spirit, torn by countless fears,<br /> +Each sound forbiddeth save the voice of tears.<br /> +With power to please thee wouldst thou me inspire?—<br /> +Recall from exile now my hapless sire.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>She has herself described, in an interesting letter to her +father, <a name="citation13"></a><a href="#footnote13" +class="citation">[13]</a> the whole incident, and the result of +her intercession. Having told how the Cardinal had been +previously well prepared, and had the true state of the case +explained in reference to her father, who appears to have been in +no degree to blame in the agitation which called forth the +displeasure of the Government, she says that—</p> +<blockquote><p>“M. le Cardinal appeared to take great +pleasure in the representation, especially when I spoke. He +laughed very much, as did the whole company. When the +comedy was finished, I descended from the theatre with the design +of speaking to Madame d’Aiguillon [the same lady who had +already interested herself in the business]. But as the +Cardinal seemed about to leave, I approached him directly, and +recited to him the verses I send you. He received them with +extraordinary affection and caresses more than you can imagine; +for at first, when I approached, he cried, ‘Voilà la +petite Pascal!’ Then he embraced me and kissed me, +and while I said my verses he continued to hold me in his arms, +and kissed me each moment with great satisfaction. And then +when I was done he said, ‘Yes; I grant to you all that you +ask; write to your father that he may return with +safety.’ Thereupon Madame d’Aiguillon +approached, and addressed the Cardinal. ‘It is truly +well, sir, that you do something for this man. I have heard +him spoken of as a thoroughly honest and learned man, and it is a +pity he should remain unemployed. Then he has a son who is +very learned in <!-- page 14--><a name="page14"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 14</span>mathematics, although as yet only +fifteen years of age.’ The Cardinal assured me once +more that I might tell you to return in all safety; and as he +seemed in such good humour, I asked him further that you might be +allowed yourself to pay your thanks and respects to his +Eminence. He said you would be welcome; and then, with +other discourse, repeated, ‘Tell your father, when he +returns, to come and see me.’ This he said three or +four times. After this, as Madame d’Aiguillon was +going away, my sister went forward to salute her. She +received her with many caresses, and inquired for our brother, +whom she said she wished to see. It was this that led to +his introduction to the Duchess, who paid him many compliments on +his scientific attainments. We were then conducted to a +room, where we had a magnificent collation of dried sweetmeats, +fruits, lemonade, and such things. Here the Duchess renewed +her caresses in a manner you will hardly believe. In short, +I cannot tell how much honour I received, for I am obliged to +write as succinctly as possible. I am greatly obliged to M. +de Moudroy for all the trouble he has taken, and I beg you will +be so good as write to him by the first post to thank him, for he +well deserves it. As for me, I esteem myself extremely +happy to have in any way assisted in a result which must give you +satisfaction.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This letter was written from Paris on the 4th April 1639, when +Jacqueline Pascal was therefore only fourteen years of age. +It is in all respects a remarkable and interesting production, +both for the glimpse it gives of the great Cardinal in his hours +of ease, and its revelation of Jacqueline’s own +character,—her dramatic cleverness, her firmness and wisdom +in assailing the Cardinal with her prepared verses at the right +moment, her self-conscious importance as the chief actor of such +a scene, and all the same, her girlish enjoyment of the +sweetmeats provided for her. It is a pleasant enough +picture; and it deserves especially to be noticed how prominently +the <!-- page 15--><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +15</span>scientific reputation of her brother, only two years +older than herself, is already recognised.</p> +<p>The sequel was all that could have been desired. The +father hastened, at the summons of his daughter, to pay his +respects to Richelieu, who gave him a welcome reception. +“I know all your merit,” he said. “I +restore you to your children, and commend them to you. I +desire to do something considerable for you.” Within +two years Étienne Pascal was, in consequence, appointed +Intendant of Rouen, where he settled with his family in +1641. Disturbances had arisen in Normandy at this time in +connection with the payment of taxes, and the Government, +believing that the Parliament at Rouen had not acted with +sufficient vigour, took the matter into their own hands, and sent +their officers to collect the revenues of the province. <a +name="citation15"></a><a href="#footnote15" +class="citation">[15]</a> Étienne Pascal’s +character and previous labours in this capacity, no less than his +restoration to the Cardinal’s favour, pointed him out as a +man specially fitted for this work, which in the circumstances +was not unattended with danger. The work in itself was also +harassing and troublesome; and the youthful Pascal, anxious to +assist his father, had busied himself in the invention of a +machine for performing arithmetical calculations, which made a +great sensation at the time. Ingenious as the machine was, +it came to little, as we shall see in the next chapter, which +will be devoted to a brief account of Pascal’s scientific +discoveries. In the meantime it will be better to confine +ourselves to the thread of his personal history up to the +important epoch which is known as his first conversion.</p> +<p><!-- page 16--><a name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +16</span>Settled at Rouen, he pursued his studies with +unremitting devotion, and with only too little regard for his +health. His elder sister, who might have won him +occasionally to lighter pursuits, was married to her cousin M. +Périer in 1641, and two years afterwards went with him to +Clermont, where her husband was appointed a Counsellor in the +Court of Aides. Jacqueline was absorbed in her own poetical +studies, which received a special impetus from the friendship of +Corneille, who had returned at this time to his native +town. The illustrious dramatist speedily sought out the +Pascal family, and became one of their most intimate +associates. A prize being given every year for the best +copy of verses on the “Conception of the Virgin,” it +was awarded to certain verses of Jacqueline’s for the year +1640. When the announcement of the result was made she was +absent, but a friend of the family rose and returned thanks in +verse in the name of the youthful poetess—<i>Pour une jeune +muse absente</i>. The friend was Corneille, whose impromptu +lines on the occasion, along with those of Jacqueline, are still +preserved. <a name="citation16"></a><a href="#footnote16" +class="citation">[16]</a> Neither have much poetic merit, +but they recall an interesting incident.</p> +<p>A bright atmosphere of intellectual emulation and cheerful +prospects surrounds the family at this time. But all the +while it is evident, from Madame Périer’s account, +that her brother was injuring his health greatly in his undue +assiduity in his scientific pursuits. The attempts to +perfect the construction of his arithmetical machine seem +especially to have worn out his delicate frame, and to have laid +the foundation of the nervous <!-- page 17--><a +name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 17</span>prostration +from which he more or less suffered all his life +afterwards. “From the age of eighteen,” she +says in a significant passage that her brother “hardly ever +passed a day without pain. In the intermissions of his +sufferings, however, his spirit was such that he was constantly +bent on some new discovery.” <a name="citation17"></a><a +href="#footnote17" class="citation">[17]</a></p> +<p>In the beginning of 1646 an accident happened which had +important consequences both to Pascal and his sisters. +Étienne Pascal fell upon the ice and severely sprained his +foot. During his confinement he was attended by two +brothers who had acquired repute in the treatment of such +injuries. They were gentlemen of family in the +neighbourhood, who had devoted themselves to medicine and anatomy +from benevolent instincts and the love of these studies. +Both were disciples of a clergyman at Rouville, who was an +enthusiastic pietist and friend of St Cyran. Crowds flocked +to hear Pastor Guillebert whenever he preached, and many were +stirred by his eloquence to devote themselves to pious and +philanthropical labours. One of the brothers under this +inspiring guidance built a hospital at the end of his park, and +gave his children to the service of the Church in various +capacities. The other brother, who had no children, +provided beds in the hospital and attended the sick poor.</p> +<p><!-- page 18--><a name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +18</span>The character and conversation of these men made a deep +impression upon the Pascal family. Hitherto esteemed pious, +they had not yet made religion an anxious concern in their +lives. Madame Périer says expressly of her brother +that he had been “preserved by the special protection of +God from all youthful vices, and, what was still more remarkable +in the case of a mind of such strength and pride, he had never +yielded to any libertinism of thought, but had always limited his +curiosity to natural inquiries.” He attributed, +according to her statement, this religious sobriety of mind to +the instructions and example of his father, who had a great +respect for religion, and who had impressed upon him from his +infancy the maxim, “that whatever is the object of faith +cannot be the object of reason, and still less the subject of +it.” He had seen, in his father, the combination of +scientific attainment with a strong reasoning power, and the +maxim therefore fell with weight from his lips. And so, +when he listened to the discourses of free-thinkers, young as he +was—</p> +<blockquote><p>“He remained unmoved by them, and simply +looked upon them as men who had adopted the false principle that +the human reason is above everything, and who know nothing of the +real nature of faith; so that this spirit, so great and +inquisitive, which searched so carefully for the reason of +everything, was at the same time submissive as a child to all the +truths of religion, and this submissive simplicity predominated +in him through his whole life.” <a name="citation18"></a><a +href="#footnote18" class="citation">[18]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>This is a significant extract in more ways than one. In +the meantime we quote it as indicating the religious atmosphere +of Pascal’s home, and the pious temper <!-- page 19--><a +name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 19</span>which marked +him from the first. But as yet religion had not taken hold +of him with an absorbing enthusiasm. It had its place in +his thoughts, and this a deeply respectful place; but now, about +his twenty-third year, in communication with the two friends we +have mentioned, and under the same influence which had moved them +so deeply, it began to lay hold of him more powerfully. He +and his father and sisters read eagerly the books of St Cyran, +and of Jansen, the Bishop of Ypres, whose name became so +conspicuous in connection with Port Royal. A discourse by +the latter on “The Reformation of the Inward Man,” +and also Arnauld’s “Manual on Frequent +Communion,” are supposed to have specially impressed +him. In the language of his sister—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Providence led him to the study of such +pious writings while he was not yet twenty-four years of age; and +God so enlightened him by this course of reading, that he came to +realise that the Christian religion obliges us to live only for +God, and to have no other object besides Him. So clear and +necessary appeared this truth to him, that he gave up for a time +all his researches, renounced all other knowledge, and applied +himself alone to the ‘one thing needful’ spoken of by +our Lord.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This event is spoken of by Pascal’s biographers as his +“first conversion,” and it appears to have been +attended not only with a zealous consecration of his own powers +to the service of religion, but moreover, as often happens in the +case of youthful enthusiasm, with a warm determination against +all who seemed to him to be acting at variance with the true +faith. “Although,” as his sister says, +“he had made no special study of scholastic <!-- page +20--><a name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +20</span>theology, he was not ignorant of the judgments of the +Church against the heresies invented by human subtlety. All +indications of heretical opinion excited his indignation, and God +gave him at this time an opportunity of testifying his zeal on +behalf of religion.” She then adds in illustration +the following story:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“There was at Rouen at this time a man who +taught a new philosophy which attracted the curious. My +brother, pressed by two of his young friends, accompanied them to +hear this man; but they were greatly surprised when they found, +in conversation with him, that he drew consequences from his +philosophy at variance with the decisions of the Church. He +sought to prove by his arguments that the body of Jesus Christ +was not formed of the blood of the Holy Virgin, but of some other +matter specially created, and several other like subjects. +They pointed out to him his error, but he remained firm in his +opinions. Thereupon, taking into consideration how +dangerous it was to leave the instruction of youth in the hands +of a man with such erroneous opinions, they resolved, after +previously informing him of their intention, to denounce him if +he continued in his errors. So it happened; for he despised +their advice, and in such a manner, as to leave them no +alternative but to denounce him to M. du Bellay, <a +name="citation20"></a><a href="#footnote20" +class="citation">[20]</a> who was then discharging episcopal +functions in the diocese of Rouen for the Archbishop. M. du +Bellay sent for the man, and having interrogated him, was +deceived by an equivocal confession of faith which he wrote and +subscribed. Otherwise he made little account of the affair +as reported by the three young men. However, when they saw +the confession of faith, they at once recognised its defects, and +entered into communication with the Archbishop himself, who, +having examined into the matter, saw its gravity, <!-- page +21--><a name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 21</span>and +sent in writing a special order to M. du Bellay to make the man +retract all the points of which he was accused, and to receive +nothing from him except by communication of his accusers. +The order was carried out, and the result was that he appeared in +the council of the Archbishop and renounced all his +errors—it may be said sincerely, for he never showed any +anger towards those who had engaged in the affair, so as to lead +one to suppose that he had been himself deceived by the false +conclusions which he had drawn from false principles. It +was made plain that his accusers had no design of injuring him, +but only of undeceiving him, and so preventing him from seducing +the young, who were incapable of distinguishing the true from the +false in such subtle questions.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This story reflects somewhat doubtfully on Pascal’s +fairness and good sense, even as told by Madame +Périer. But it has not been left in the vagueness in +which it stands in her narrative. M. Cousin published for +the first time full details regarding it in the volume by which +he may be said to have initiated the new researches into the life +and writings of Pascal. These details, which fill more than +forty pages of appendix to M. Cousin’s volume, <a +name="citation21"></a><a href="#footnote21" +class="citation">[21]</a> are no longer of any interest in +themselves; but they enable us to understand more clearly the +conduct of Pascal and his two friends. Unhappily they +deepen rather than lighten the shade which the story throws upon +Pascal’s intemperate zeal. The name of the accused +teacher was Jacques Forton, a Capucin monk, known as the +Père St Ange. He taught no <!-- page 22--><a +name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 22</span>new +philosophy; but he had communicated to Pascal or his friends, in +private conversation specially desired by them, certain +theological opinions which he had espoused. These, as given +in the statement of the case signed by Pascal and his two +friends, mainly concern such abstruse subjects as the relation of +reason and faith, and the possibility of demonstrating the +doctrine of the Trinity as the source of all other +knowledge. The curious question as to the constitution of +the body of Jesus occupies only a subordinate place. The +monk, as shown in the whole proceedings, was evidently more of a +speculative dreamer than a heretic—a man fond of +disputation about matters beyond his comprehension. It is +mentioned by the three youthful zealots, in the +<i>récit</i> bearing their signature, that as they were +about to part with him, “after the accustomed +civilities,” he was careful to let them know that he +advanced the points in dispute, not as dogmas, but merely as +propositions or thoughts for discussion, the fruit of his own +reasonings.</p> +<p>There is no reason to doubt that Pascal’s conduct on +this occasion arose entirely from honest zeal. He thought +religion compromised by the strange reasonings which he had +heard. There is as little doubt, however, that his zeal +outran his discretion. He showed a determination to pursue +the matter amounting to persecution. The worthy priest had +evidently no intention of promulgating heresy; for he is glad, +when called upon, of an opportunity of proving his +orthodoxy. With this view he produced, side by side with +the articles of accusation, passages from a former volume of his +which had been printed with official sanction. Pascal still +demurred, <!-- page 23--><a name="page23"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 23</span>even with this evidence before +him. A second declaration was obtained from the priest, and +the bishop refused to go further. The sympathies of the +community were evidently against the youthful zealots; and +finally Pascal’s father, convinced that enough had been +done to vindicate the truth, successfully interposed as mediator. +<a name="citation23a"></a><a href="#footnote23a" +class="citation">[23a]</a></p> +<p>Pascal’s health about this period appears to have +undergone a change for the worse. He suffered from +excessive headache and great internal heat and pain. A +singular characteristic of his malady was his inability to +swallow water unless it was heated, and even then only drop by +drop. He was the subject, also, of a remarkable paralytic +seizure thus described by his niece:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“He fell,” she says, “into a +very extraordinary state, as the result of his great application +to his scientific studies; for the senses (<i>les esprits</i>) +having mounted strongly to the brain, he became in a manner +paralysed from the waist downwards. His legs and feet grew +cold as marble; and they were obliged every day to put on socks +soaked in brandy in order to try and restore heat in his +feet. At the same time the physician interdicted him from +all study.” <a name="citation23b"></a><a +href="#footnote23b" class="citation">[23b]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>M. Lélut <a name="citation23c"></a><a +href="#footnote23c" class="citation">[23c]</a> explains at length +this attack of Pascal’s as a well-known form of dynamical +paralysis, of a similar nature with hypochondria and hysteria, +proceeding from a disordered state of the nervous affections, the +result <!-- page 24--><a name="page24"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 24</span>of overwork acting upon a delicate +organisation. The result is temporary, as distinguished +from the paralysis arising from organic lesion, but indicates a +highly susceptible constitution, the ready prey of melancholy and +imaginative exaggeration, to which, in M. Lélut’s +opinion, Pascal was more or less liable during the remaining +years of his life.</p> +<h2><!-- page 25--><a name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +25</span>CHAPTER II.<br /> +PASCAL’S SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERIES.</h2> +<p>Pascal’s scientific studies may be said to have begun +with the remarkable incident of his youth already related, when +he elaborated for himself, in a solitary chamber without books, +thirty-two propositions of the first book of Euclid. On the +other hand, these studies may be said to have extended to his +closing years, when (in 1658 and 1659) he reverted to the +abstruser mathematics, and made the <i>cycloid</i> a subject of +special thought. But his scientific labours were in the +main concentrated in the eight or ten years of his life which +followed the removal of the family to Rouen. It will be +convenient, therefore, to notice these labours and discoveries in +a single chapter here, which will, at the same time, carry on the +main history of his life during these years. All that can +be expected from the present writer is a slight sketch of this +part of the subject, which indeed is all that would be +interesting to the general reader.</p> +<p>At the age of sixteen Pascal had already acquired a scientific +reputation. He is spoken of by the Duchess +d’Aiguillon, in the interview with Richelieu in which she +pleaded the cause of the exiled father, as “very <!-- page +26--><a name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +26</span>learned in mathematics;” and when his sister +presented him after the dramatic representation on that occasion, +the Duchess gave him “great commendation for his scientific +attainments.” <a name="citation26a"></a><a +href="#footnote26a" class="citation">[26a]</a> When allowed +by his father to pursue the natural bent of his genius, he made +extraordinary progress. He was still only twelve years of +age, but Euclid’s Elements, as soon as put into his hands, +were mastered by him without any explanation. By-and-by he +began to take an active part in the scientific discussions which +took place at his father’s house; and his achievement in +Conic Sections has been already narrated.</p> +<p>Descartes’s incredulity was not without reason; but +there is no room to doubt the fact. The little treatise, +‘Pour les Coniques,’ still survives. It bears +the date of 1640, and occupies only six pages. <a +name="citation26b"></a><a href="#footnote26b" +class="citation">[26b]</a> After a very clear statement of +his subject, the writer modestly concludes:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“We have several other problems and +theorems, and several consequences deducible from the preceding; +but the mistrust which I have of my slight experience and +capacity does not permit me to advance more till my present +effort has passed the examination of able men who may oblige me +by looking at it. Afterwards, if they think it has +sufficient merit to be continued, we shall endeavour to push our +studies as far as God will give the power to conduct +them.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is interesting to notice the beginning of relations betwixt +Descartes and Pascal, considering the jealousy that afterwards +arose betwixt them. There is something of this feeling from +the first in the older philosopher, <!-- page 27--><a +name="page27"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 27</span>who was now +in the forty-fourth year of his age, and in the full zenith of +his great reputation. He appears to have been greatly +fascinated by Pascal’s peculiar powers; but the men were of +too marked individuality of character, and too divergent in +intellectual sympathy and personal aspiration, to appreciate each +other fully.</p> +<p>Pascal’s next achievement was the invention of an +arithmetical machine, chiefly prompted by a desire to assist his +father in his official duties at Rouen. He has given us no +description of this machine from his own pen. In the +“Avis” addressed to all whose curiosity was excited +by it, he excuses himself from this task by the natural remark +that such a description would be useless without entering into a +number of technical details unintelligible to the general reader; +and that an actual inspection of it, combined with a brief +<i>vivâ voce</i> explanation, would be far more +satisfactory than any lengthened account in writing. There +is an elaborate description, however, of the machine, by Diderot, +in the first volume of the ‘Encyclopédie,’ +which is reprinted in the collection of Pascal’s scientific +works. Pascal’s main difficulties occurred, not in +connection with the invention itself, which he seems to have very +soon perfected according to his own conception, but with the +construction of the instrument after he had mentally worked it +out in all its details. These difficulties proved so great, +and so many imperfect specimens of the instrument were made, +that, in order to secure both his reputation and his interest, he +acquired in 1649 a special “privilége du Roi,” +which confined the manufacture of the machine to himself, and +such workmen as he should employ and sanction. All others, +“of whatever quality and <!-- page 28--><a +name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +28</span>condition,” were prohibited from “making it, +or causing it to be made, or selling it.” But neither +these precautions nor the merits of the invention itself, which +were admitted by all competent judges, were of avail to make the +instrument a practical success. Many men of mathematical +and mechanical genius in different countries have applied +themselves to the same task. The celebrated Leibnitz is +said to have constructed a machine excelling Pascal’s in +ingenuity and power. In our own time, Mr Babbage’s +wonderful achievement in the same direction attracted wide +attention, and has been lavishly eulogised by Sir David Brewster +and others:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“While all previous contrivances,” +says Sir David, <a name="citation28a"></a><a href="#footnote28a" +class="citation">[28a]</a> “performed only particular +arithmetical operations, under a sort of copartnery between the +man and the machine, the extraordinary invention of Mr Babbage +actually substitutes mechanism in the place of man. A +problem is given to the machine, and it solves it by computing a +long series of numbers following some given law. In this +manner it calculates astronomical, logarithmic, and navigation +tables, as well as tables of the powers and products of +numbers. It can integrate, too, innumerable equations of +finite differences; and, in addition to these functions, it does +its work cheaply and quickly; <i>it corrects whatever errors are +accidentally committed</i>, <i>and it prints all its +calculations</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Notwithstanding this brilliant picture, the great expense and +the complications involved in the construction of such an +instrument have seriously interfered with its success. It +is said that Mr Babbage’s machine, much more his marvellous +analytic engine, have never yet been properly constructed. <a +name="citation28b"></a><a href="#footnote28b" +class="citation">[28b]</a></p> +<p><!-- page 29--><a name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +29</span>Pascal fortunately turned his thoughts into a new and +more fruitful channel. We have now to contemplate him as +one of an illustrious band associated in a great discovery in +physical science. Before his time considerable progress had +been made towards a knowledge of atmospheric pressure. +Galileo and his pupil Torricelli had both been busy with the +subject. To Pascal, however, remains the glory of carrying +successfully to a conclusion the suggestion of Torricelli, and of +verifying the results which he had indicated. Here, as in +almost all such discoveries, it is found that different minds +have been actively pursuing the same or similar lines of thought +and observation, and controversy has arisen as to the exact +merits of each; but Pascal has himself so candidly explained <a +name="citation29a"></a><a href="#footnote29a" +class="citation">[29a]</a> how far he was indebted to his great +Italian predecessors, and how far he made original experiments of +his own, that both his relation to them and his own work stand +clearly apparent.</p> +<p>It had been found by the engineers engaged in the construction +of fountains for Cosmo dei Medici in Florence that they could not +raise water in an ordinary pump more than thirty-two feet above +the reservoir. The water, having reached this height, would +rise no higher. Galileo was appealed to for a solution of +the difficulty. <a name="citation29b"></a><a href="#footnote29b" +class="citation">[29b]</a> Imbued with the ancient notion +that Nature abhors a <!-- page 30--><a name="page30"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 30</span>vacuum, and that this was, as then +prevalently believed, the explanation of the water following the +elevation of the piston in the pump, the philosopher replied in +effect that there were limits to the action of this principle, +and that Nature’s abhorrence of a vacuum did not extend +beyond thirty-two feet. He was himself, it need hardly be +said, dissatisfied with such a reply, and accordingly he invited +his pupil, Torricelli, to investigate the subject. The +latter very soon found that the weight of the water was concerned +in the result. He made experiments with a heavier +fluid—mercury—and ascertained that a column of +mercury enclosed in a tube three feet in length hermetically +sealed at the lower end, and closed with the finger at the top, +on being inserted in a basin of the same liquid and the finger +withdrawn, stood at a height of about 28 inches in the +basin. As the specific gravities of water and mercury were +in the ratio of 32 feet and 28 inches, he was led to the +conclusion that the water in the pump and the mercury in the tube +at these respective heights exerted the same pressure on the same +base, and that both were of course counterbalanced by a +determinate force. But what was this force? He had +learned from Galileo that the air was a heavy fluid, and he was +carried, therefore, directly to the further conclusion that the +weight of the atmosphere was the counteracting cause in both +cases; in the one, pressing upon the reservoir from which the +water was drawn—and in the other, on the surrounding +mercury in the basin. He published his experiments and +researches in 1645, but dying soon afterwards, his conclusions +remained unverified.</p> +<p>The fame of Torricelli’s experiments had reached Paris +as early as 1644, before their formal publication. Some +one, Pascal says, had communicated them to Father <!-- page +31--><a name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +31</span>Mersenne—both a religious and scientific intimate, +as we have already seen, of the Pascal family. Mersenne had +tried the experiments for himself, at first without success, but +soon with better fortune, after he had been to Rome and had +learned more fully about them. “The news of these +having reached Rouen in 1646, where I then was,” says +Pascal, <a name="citation31"></a><a href="#footnote31" +class="citation">[31]</a> “I made the Italian experiment, +founding on Mersenne’s account, with great success. I +repeated it several times, and in this manner satisfying myself +of its accuracy, I drew certain conclusions from it, for the +proof of which I made new and very different experiments in +presence of four or five hundred people of all sorts, and amongst +others, five or six Jesuit fathers of the College of +Rouen.” When his experiments became known in Paris, +he adds, they were confounded with those which had been made in +Italy, and the result was that some attributed to him a credit +which was not his due, while others, “by a contrary +injustice,” were disposed to take away the credit of what +he had really done.</p> +<p>It was with the view of placing the matter in a clear light, +and vindicating his own share in the train of experiments which +had been made, that he published in 1647 his “Nouvelles +Expériences touchant le Vide,” the first of his +hydrostatical treatises. He was at pains to explain the +distinction betwixt his own experiments and those which had been +made in Italy; and not content with this, he added in express +words, in an “avis au lecteur,” that he “was +not the inventor of the original experiment, but that it had been +made in Italy four years before.” So little, indeed, +did Pascal borrow directly from Torricelli, or seek to +appropriate the fruits of his researches, that he was as yet +ignorant of the <!-- page 32--><a name="page32"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 32</span>explanation which the Italian had +suggested of the phenomenon so fully established. He saw, +of course, that the old maxim of Nature abhorring a vacuum had no +solid foundation; but he tried to account for the vacuum above +the water and the mercury by such a supposition as the +following:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“That it contained no portion of either of +these fluids, or of any matter appreciable by the senses; that +all bodies have a repugnance to separate from a state of +continuity, and admit a vacuum between them; that this repugnance +is not greater for a large vacuum than a small one; that its +measure is a column of water about 32 feet in height, and that +beyond this limit a great or small vacuum is formed above the +water with the same facility, provided that no foreign obstacle +interfere to prevent it.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Pascal’s treatise, while still retaining so much of the +old traditional physics, was made an object of lively attack by +the Jesuit Rector of the College of Paris, Stephen +Noël. Pascal replied to him at first directly; and +then in answer to a second attack—and so far also in answer +to a treatise by the Jesuit, entitled “Le Plein du +Vide,” published in 1648—he made a more elaborate +statement in a letter addressed to M. le Pailleur, and in a +further letter addressed to Father Noël in the same +year. There can hardly be any doubt that this was the +commencement of Pascal’s hostile relations with the +Jesuits. On their part, they failed not to remember in +after years, and in a more serious struggle, that he was an old +enemy; whilst he on his part probably drew something of the +contemptuous scorn which he poured upon them from the +recollection of their obstinate ignorance in matters of +science.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, in defending himself from the attacks of <!-- page +33--><a name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +33</span>ignorance, Pascal did not fail to open his own mind to +fuller scientific light. As soon as the explanation of +Torricelli was communicated to him, he accepted it without +hesitation, and resolved to carry out a further series of +experiments with the view of verifying this explanation, and of +banishing for ever the scholastic nonsense of Nature’s +abhorrence of a vacuum. If the weight of the air was really +the cause which sustained the height of the mercury in the +Torricellian tube, he saw at once that this height would vary at +different elevations, according to the varying degree of +atmospheric pressure at these elevations. He proceeded +accordingly to test the result; but the higher levels around +Rouen were too insignificant to enable him to draw any decisive +inference. Accordingly, he communicated with his +brother-in-law in Auvergne with the view of having an adequate +experiment made during an ascent of the Puy de Dôme, which +rises in the neighbourhood of Clermont to a height of about 3000 +feet. The state of his own health prevented him from +conducting the experiment personally, and M. Périer was +detained by professional avocations from undertaking it +immediately. But at length, in September 1648, the +experiment was carried out successfully, and the results +communicated to Pascal. I cannot do better than quote the +account of this important event as rendered by an eminent +scientific authority, <a name="citation33"></a><a +href="#footnote33" class="citation">[33]</a> from M. +Périer’s own recital of the facts in his letter to +Pascal:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“On the morning of Saturday, the 19th +September, the day fixed for the interesting observation, the +weather was unsettled; but about five o’clock the summit of +the Puy <!-- page 34--><a name="page34"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 34</span>de Dôme began to appear through +the clouds, and Périer resolved to proceed with the +experiment. The leading characters in Clermont, whether +ecclesiastics or laymen, had taken a deep interest in the +subject, and had requested Périer to give them notice of +his plans. He accordingly summoned his friends, and at +eight in the morning there assembled in the garden of the +Pères Minimes, about a league below the town, M. Bannier, +of the Pères Minimes; M. Mosnier, canon of the cathedral +church; along with MM. la Ville and Begon, counsellors of the +Court of Aides, and M. la Porte, doctor and professor of medicine +in Clermont. These five individuals were not only +distinguished in their respective professions, but also by their +scientific acquirements; and M. Périer expresses his +delight at having been on this occasion associated with +them. M. Périer began the experiment by pouring into +a vessel 16 lb. of quicksilver, which he had rectified during the +three preceding days. He then took two glass tubes, four +feet long, of the same bore, and hermetically sealed at one end +and open at the other; and making the ordinary experiment of a +vacuum with both, he found that the mercury stood in each of them +at the same level and at the height of 26 inches 3½ +lines. This experiment was repeated twice, with the same +result. One of these glass tubes, with the mercury standing +in it, was left under the care of M. Chastin, one of the +Religious of the House, who undertook to observe and mark any +changes in it that might take place during the day; and the party +already named set out with the other tube for the summit of the +Puy de Dôme, about 500 toises (a toise is about six feet in +length) above their first station. Before arriving there, +they found that the mercury stood at the height of 23 inches and +2 lines—no less than 3 inches and 1½ line lower than +it stood at the Minimes. The party were ‘struck with +admiration and astonishment <!-- page 35--><a +name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 35</span>at this +result;’ and ‘so great was their surprise that they +resolved to repeat the experiment under various +forms.’ The glass tube, or the barometer, as we may +call it, was placed in various positions on the summit of +‘the mountain’—sometimes in the small chapel +which is there; sometimes in an exposed and sometimes in a +sheltered position; sometimes when the wind blew, and sometimes +when it was calm; sometimes in rain, and sometimes in a fog: and +under all these various influences, which fortunately took place +during the same day, the quicksilver stood at the same height of +23 inches 2 lines. During their descent of the mountain +they repeated the experiment at <i>Lafon-de-l’Arbre</i>, an +intermediate station, nearer the Minimes than the summit of the +Puy, ‘and they found the mercury to stand at the height of +25 inches—a result with which the party was greatly +pleased,’ as indicating the relation between the height of +the mercury and the height of the station. Upon reaching +the Minimes, they found that the mercury had not changed its +height, notwithstanding the inconstancy of the weather, which had +been alternately clear, windy, rainy, and foggy. M. +Périer repeated the experiments with both the glass tubes, +and found the height of the mercury to be still 26 inches +3½ lines. On the following morning M. de la Marc, +priest of the Oratory, to whom M. Périer had mentioned the +preceding results, proposed to have the experiment repeated at +the top and bottom of the towers of Notre Dame in Clermont. +He accordingly yielded to his request, and found the difference +to be 2 lines. Upon comparing these observations, M. +Périer obtained the following results, showing the changes +in the altitude of the mercurial column corresponding to certain +differences of altitude of position:—</p> +</blockquote> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p>Difference of altitude.</p> +</td> +<td><p>Changes in the height of the mercury.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>Toises.</p> +</td> +<td><p>Lines.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>500</p> +</td> +<td><p>37½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>150</p> +</td> +<td><p>15½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>27</p> +</td> +<td><p>2½</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>7</p> +</td> +<td><p>½</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<blockquote><p><!-- page 36--><a name="page36"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 36</span>When Pascal received these results, +all the difficulties were removed; and perceiving from the two +last observations in the preceding table that 20 toises, or about +120 feet, produce a change of 2 lines, and 7 toises, or 42 feet, +a change of ½ a line, he made the observation at the top +and bottom of the tower of St Jacques de la Boucherie, which was +about 24 or 25 toises, or about 150 feet high, and he found a +difference of more than 2 lines in the mercurial column; and in a +private house 90 steps high he found a difference of ½ a +line. . . . After this important experiment was made, +Pascal intimated to M. Périer that different states of the +weather would occasion differences in the barometer, according as +it was cold, hot, dry, or moist; and in order to put this opinion +to the test of experiment, M. Périer instituted a series +of observations, which he continued from the beginning of 1649 +till March 1651. Corresponding observations were made at +the same time at Paris and at Stockholm by the French ambassador, +M. Chanut, and Descartes; and from these it appeared that the +mercury rises in weather which is cold, cloudy, and damp, and +falls when the weather is hot and dry, and during rain and snow, +but still with such irregularities that no general rule could be +established. At Clermont the difference between the highest +and the lowest state of the mercury was 1 inch 3½ lines; +at Paris the same; and at Stockholm 2 inches 2½ +lines.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>From the account here presented of these researches, there is +no difficulty in determining the exact credit due to Pascal on +the one hand, and his Italian predecessors on the other. He +completed what they had begun, and verified what they had +indicated. As the Abbé Bossut has expressed it, +Galileo proved that air was a heavy fluid; Torricelli conceived +that its weight was the cause of the suspension of the water in a +pump and the mercury in a tube. Pascal demonstrated that +this was the fact. No one was more anxious than Pascal +himself <!-- page 37--><a name="page37"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 37</span>that Torricelli should be +acknowledged as the real discoverer of the principle which it was +left to him to establish by the test of experiment. He +claimed, however, his own definite share in the discovery, both +as having carried on a series of independent experiments, and as +having converted what he himself calls the +“conjecture” of Torricelli into an established +fact. It was painful to him, therefore, to have this share +denied, and even open accusations made against him that he had +appropriated, without acknowledgment, the results of +Torricelli’s researches. This accusation was made in +certain theses of philosophy maintained in the Jesuit College of +Montferrand in 1651, and dedicated to Pascal’s own friend, +M. de Ribeyre, first president at the Court of Aides at +Clermont. Pascal’s name was not indeed mentioned in +these theses; but there could be no doubt of the allusion made to +“certain persons loving novelty” who claimed to be +the inventors of a definite experiment of which Torricelli was +the real author. It was this accusation which drew from +Pascal his letter to M. Ribeyre, bearing the date of 12th July of +the same year, in which he has described, with admirable lucidity +and temper, his relations to the whole subject. In this +letter he distinctly says that the Italian experiments were known +in France from the year 1644; that they were repeated in France +by several persons in several places during 1646; that he himself +had made, as we have already seen, definite experiments in 1647, +and published the results in the same year; and that he had then +not mentioned the name of Torricelli, because, while he knew that +the experiments were made in Italy four years before, he did not +then know that the experimenter was Torricelli; but <!-- page +38--><a name="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 38</span>that +so soon as he learned this fact—which he and his friends +were so eager to know, that they sent a special letter of inquiry +to Rome—he was “ravished with the idea that the +experimenter was so illustrious a genius, whose mathematical +writings, already well known, surpassed those of all +antiquity.” He says, in conclusion, that it was only +in the same year (1647), after the publication of his own +researches, that he learned “the very fine thought” +of Torricelli concerning the cause of all the effects which had +been attributed to the horror of a vacuum. But “as +this was only a conjecture as yet unverified,” he then, +with the view of ascertaining the truth or falsehood of it, +conceived the plan of the experiments carried out by M. +Périer at the top and the foot of the Puy de +Dôme. “It is true, sir,” he adds, +“and I say it boldly, that this series of experiments was +my own invention; and therefore I may say that the new knowledge +thus acquired is entirely due to me.”</p> +<p>To this letter M. Ribeyre made a satisfactory and touching +reply. He expresses disapproval of the allusion of the +Jesuit father, but as the discourse was otherwise free from +offence, he was willing to attribute it to a “pardonable +emulation among <i>savants</i>,” rather than to any +intention of assailing Pascal. He makes, in short, the best +excuse he can for the Jesuit, and hastens to assure Pascal that +his reputation needed no justification:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Your candour and your sincerity are too +well known to admit any belief that you could do anything +inconsistent with the virtuous profession apparent in all your +actions and manner. I honour and revere your virtue more +than your science; and as in both the one and the other you equal +the <!-- page 39--><a name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +39</span>most famous of the age, do not think it strange if, +adding to the common esteem which all have of you, a friendship +contracted many years ago with your father, I subscribe myself +yours,” etc.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>But Pascal had to sustain suspicion and attack in a quarter +more formidable than that of the Jesuit fathers at +Montferrand. We have already spoken of the rather unhappy +commencement of relations between him and Descartes. +Farther on we get a more pleasant glimpse of these relations, in +a letter from Jacqueline Pascal to Madame Périer, dated +25th September 1647, and apparently shortly after Pascal had +retired to Paris, along with his younger sister, leaving their +father for some time still at Rouen. This letter is so +interesting, both in its bearing on the question which arose +between Descartes and Pascal, and in itself, as giving the only +account we have of personal intercourse between these two +illustrious men, that we present it almost entire:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“I have delayed writing to you,” +Jacqueline says, addressing her sister, <a +name="citation39a"></a><a href="#footnote39a" +class="citation">[39a]</a> “because I wished to tell to you +at length of the interview of M. Descartes and my brother, and I +had no leisure yesterday to say that on the evening of Sunday +last M. Habert <a name="citation39b"></a><a href="#footnote39b" +class="citation">[39b]</a> came, accompanied by M. de Montigny, a +gentleman of Brittany, with the view of letting me know, in the +absence of my brother, who was at church, that M. Descartes, his +compatriot and good friend, had expressed a strong desire to see +my brother, for the sake of the great esteem in which both he and +my father were everywhere held, and that he begged to be allowed +to wait upon him next day at nine o’clock in the morning, +if this would not inconvenience him, whom he knew to be an +invalid. <!-- page 40--><a name="page40"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 40</span>When M. de Montigny proposed this, I +felt hindered from giving a definite answer, because I knew that +my brother was reluctant to force himself to conversation, +especially in the morning. Nevertheless, I did not think it +right to refuse, so we arranged that he should come at half-past +ten next day. Along with M. Habert and M. de Montigny there +were also a young man in the dress of a priest, whom I did not +know, M. de Montigny’s son, and two or three other young +people. M. de Roberval, whom my brother had informed of the +intended visit, was also present. After some civilities, +talk fell upon the instrument [probably that which Pascal had +used in the experiments], which was very much admired, while M. +de Roberval showed it. Then they spoke of the idea of a +vacuum; and M. Descartes, on hearing of the experiments, and +being asked what he thought was within the tube (<i>dans la +seringue</i>), said with great seriousness that it was some +subtle matter, to which my brother replied what he could. +M. Roberval, believing that my brother had difficulty in +speaking, took up the reply to M. Descartes with some heat, yet +with perfect civility. M. Descartes answered with some +harshness that he would talk to my brother as much as he wished, +because he spoke with reason, but not to any one who spoke with +prejudice. Thereupon, finding from his watch it was +mid-day, he rose, being engaged to dine at the Faubourg Saint +Germain. M. Roberval also rose, in such a way that M. +Descartes conducted him to a carriage, where the two were alone, +and battled at one another more strongly than playfully, as M. +Roberval, who returned here after dinner, told us. . . . I +have forgotten to tell you that M. Descartes, annoyed at seeing +so little of my brother, promised to return next day at eight +o’clock. . . . He desired this, partly to consult +regarding my brother’s illness, as to which, however, he +did not communicate anything of importance, only he counselled +him to remain in bed every day as long as he could till he was +tired, and to take plenty of soup. They spoke of many other +things, for he was here till eleven o’clock, but I cannot +tell you more particularly what they said, as I was not present +on this occasion. We were prevented during <!-- page +41--><a name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 41</span>the +whole day from making him take his early bath. He had found +it give him a little headache, but that was because he had taken +it too late; and I believe the bleeding at the foot on Sunday had +done him good, for on Monday he conversed freely and strongly all +day—in the morning with M. Descartes, and after dinner with +M. de Roberval, with whom he argued for a long time on many +things, both belonging to theology and physics, and yet he took +no further harm than perspiring much, and slept rather sound +during the night.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The revelations of this letter are very curious. The +respectful desire of Descartes, already so distinguished, to make +Pascal’s acquaintance, and to enter into conversation with +him; his resentment of Roberval’s interference, and their +earnest altercation, prolonged in the carriage after leaving +Pascal’s house; the evidently serious character of +Pascal’s maladies, and the watchful attention of his +sister. It is clear through all that Descartes had been +busily occupied with the same physical problems as Pascal, and +that he was somewhat jealous of the results towards which Pascal +and his friends were tending. Evidently there was a certain +measure of unfriendliness between Roberval and Descartes. I +am unable, however, to see any traces of a coterie surrounding +Pascal and inimical to Descartes, as M. Cousin suggests. <a +name="citation41"></a><a href="#footnote41" +class="citation">[41]</a> If such a coterie existed at this +time in Paris, of which the “hasty and jealous +Roberval” was the centre, and which delighted in +“abusing Descartes, and attacking him on all sides,” +Jacqueline’s frank and lively letter seems enough to show +that while Roberval was Pascal’s friend and +Descartes’s disputant, there was nothing in the <!-- page +42--><a name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +42</span>meantime between Descartes and Pascal but courteous +friendliness and a cordial feeling of mutual respect.</p> +<p>Descartes, however, in his retirement at Stockholm, plainly +cherished the impression that Roberval’s intimacy with +Pascal prevented the latter from doing full justice to his +scientific position and suggestions; and having as yet heard +nothing, in June 1649, of the special results of Pascal’s +experiments on the Puy de Dôme in the preceding year, he +wrote to his friend Carcavi to let him know about these.</p> +<blockquote><p>“I pray you, let me know of the success of +an experiment which Pascal is said to have made on the mountains +of Auvergne. . . . I had the right to expect this of him +rather than of you, because it was I who advised him two years +ago to make the experiment, and who assured him that, although I +had not made it, I had no doubt of its success. But <i>as +he is the friend of M. Roberval</i>, <i>who professes not to be +mine</i>, <i>I have some reason to think he follows the passions +of his friend</i>.” <a name="citation42a"></a><a +href="#footnote42a" class="citation">[42a]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>That letter was immediately communicated to Pascal by Carcavi, +who was his intimate associate no less than Roberval. But +it seems to have elicited no reply. Bossut <a +name="citation42b"></a><a href="#footnote42b" +class="citation">[42b]</a> says that he despised it. On the +other hand, Descartes’s biographer and eulogist, Baillet, +blames Pascal for having carefully kept out of view +Descartes’s name in all the accounts of his discoveries; +and produces an array of passages from Descartes’s letters, +showing <!-- page 43--><a name="page43"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 43</span>plainly that his mind was in the line +of discovery finally verified by the experiments in Auvergne. <a +name="citation43a"></a><a href="#footnote43a" +class="citation">[43a]</a> It may be granted beyond doubt +this was the case. It would ill become any admirer of +Pascal to detract from the glory of Descartes. But it must +be held no less firmly, that in the personal question raised by +Descartes’s letter, the balance of evidence is all in +favour of Pascal. There are no indications that the two men +ever met save on the occasion so frankly described by his sister +Jacqueline. Before this Pascal had not only been busy with +the subject, but says distinctly that he had meditated the +experiment finally made on the Puy de Dôme from the time +that he published his first researches. <a +name="citation43b"></a><a href="#footnote43b" +class="citation">[43b]</a> It was not, indeed, till about +six weeks after Descartes’s visit, or on the 15th December +1647, that he communicated with M. Périer regarding these +experiments, and his earnest desire that they should be made; and +it was not till the following September, or about a year after +Descartes’s visit, that they were actually made. But +it is incredible that Pascal could have written as he did if he +had really, for the first time, been indebted to Descartes for +the suggestion. Descartes’s name is not mentioned in +his correspondence with M. Périer, nor in any of his +writings on the subject; and the delay in making the experiments +is sufficiently explained by the facts stated by himself, that +they could only be made effectually at <!-- page 44--><a +name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 44</span>some place of +greater elevation than he could command—such as +“Clermont, at the foot of the Puy de +Dôme”—and by some person, such as M. +Périer, on whose knowledge and accuracy he could +rely. If we add to this the force of the statement already +quoted from his letter to M. Ribeyre, four years afterwards, or +in 1651, that he claimed the experiments as entirely “his +own invention,” and that he did so “boldly,” +the case seems put beyond all doubt—unless we are to +suppose the author of the ‘Provincial Letters’ and +the ‘Thoughts’ capable of wilful suppression of the +truth. On the other hand, it is unnecessary to attribute to +Descartes anything beyond a mistaken opinion of the value of +certain statements which he had no doubt made to Pascal, and +possibly some confusion of memory. And that this is not an +unwarranted view appears from what he says in a subsequent letter +to M. Carcavi, on the 17th August of the same year, +1649—that he was greatly interested in hearing of the +success of the experiments, having two years before besought +Pascal to make them, and assured him of success—because the +supposed explanation was one, he adds, “entirely consistent +with the principles of my philosophy, apart from which he +[Pascal], would not have thought of it, his own opinion being +quite contrary.” <a name="citation44"></a><a +href="#footnote44" class="citation">[44]</a> This may or +may not be true. Pascal certainly held as long as he could +to the old maxim of “Nature’s abhorrence of a +vacuum.” “I do not think it allowable,” +he says in his letter to M. Périer, “to depart +lightly from maxims handed down to us by <!-- page 45--><a +name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 45</span>antiquity, +unless compelled by invincible proofs.” But the +notions of Descartes on the subject of a vacuum were at least as +confused as those originally held by Pascal. <a +name="citation45a"></a><a href="#footnote45a" +class="citation">[45a]</a> It is absurd, therefore, to +suppose that the latter could have been indebted to the +principles of the Cartesian philosophy—not to say that this +is a very different suggestion from that of the former letter, +that Descartes himself had advised the experiment to be +made. Evidently the older philosopher wrote under vague and +somewhat inflated ideas of the value of his labours and his +conversation with Pascal; while the latter, again, absorbed in +his own thoughts on the subject, and unconscious that he had +received any special impulse from Descartes or his philosophy, +naturally made no mention of his name. His silence when +Descartes’s accusation was communicated to him indicates +the same somewhat lofty reserve and confidence in the +independence of his own researches, rather than any +contempt. He felt too sure of his position to think of +defending himself, or of repelling what he no doubt regarded as +not so much a deliberate assault on the value of his own work, as +an exaggerated estimate by the other of his share in that +work.</p> +<p>Pascal’s researches regarding atmospheric pressure +conducted him gradually to the examination of the general laws of +the equilibrium of fluids. <a name="citation45b"></a><a +href="#footnote45b" class="citation">[45b]</a> It had been +already determined that the pressure of a fluid on its base is as +the product of the base multiplied by the height of the fluid, +and that all fluids press equally on all sides of <!-- page +46--><a name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 46</span>the +vessels enclosing them. But it still remained to determine +exactly the measure of the pressure, in order to deduce the +general conditions of equilibrium. With the view of +ascertaining this, Pascal made two unequal apertures in a vessel +filled with fluid, and enclosed on all sides. He then +applied two pistons to these apertures, pressed by forces +proportional to the respective apertures, and the fluid remained +<i>in equilibrio</i>. “Having established this truth +by two methods equally ingenious and satisfactory, he deduced +from it the different cases of the equilibrium of fluids, and +particularly with solid bodies, compressible and incompressible, +when either partly or wholly immersed in them.”</p> +<blockquote><p>“But the most remarkable part of his +treatise on the ‘Equilibrium of Fluids,’” +continues Sir David Brewster, from whose exposition we quote, <a +name="citation46a"></a><a href="#footnote46a" +class="citation">[46a]</a> “and one which of itself would +have immortalised him, is his application of the general +principle to the construction of what he calls the +‘mechanical machine for multiplying forces,’ <a +name="citation46b"></a><a href="#footnote46b" +class="citation">[46b]</a>—an effect which, he says, may be +produced to any extent we choose, as one may by means of this +machine raise a weight of any magnitude. This new machine +is the <i>Hydrostatic Press</i>, first introduced by our +celebrated countryman, Mr Bramah.</p> +<p>“Pascal’s treatise on the weight of the whole mass +of air forms the basis of the modern science of Pneumatics. +In order to prove that the mass of air presses by its weight on +all the bodies which it surrounds, and also that it is elastic +and compressible, a balloon half filled with air was carried to +the top of the Puy de Dôme. It gradually inflated +itself as it ascended, and when it reached the summit it was +quite full and swollen, as if fresh air had been blown into it; +or <!-- page 47--><a name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +47</span>what is the same thing, it swelled in proportion as the +weight of the column of air which pressed upon it +diminished. When again brought down, it became more and +more flaccid, and, when it reached the bottom, it resumed its +original condition. In the nine chapters of which the +treatise consists, he shows that all the phenomena or effects +hitherto ascribed to the horror of a vacuum, arise from the +weight of the mass of air; and after explaining the variable +pressure of the atmosphere in different localities, and in its +different states, and the rise of the water in pumps, he +calculates that the whole mass of air round our globe weighs +8,983,889,440,000,000,000 French pounds.</p> +<p>“Having thus completed his researches respecting elastic +and incompressible fluids, Pascal seems to have resumed with a +fatal enthusiasm his mathematical studies: but, unfortunately for +science, several of the works which he composed have been +lost. Others, however, have been preserved, which entitle +him to a high rank amongst the greatest mathematicians of the +age. Of these, his ‘Traité du Triangle +Arithmétique,’ his ‘Tractatus de Numericis +Ordinibus,’ and his ‘Problemata de Cycloide,’ +are the chief. By means of the <i>Arithmetical +Triangle</i>, an invention equally ingenious and original, he +succeeded in solving a number of theorems which it would have +been difficult to demonstrate in any other way, and in finding +the coefficients of different terms of a binomial raised to an +even and positive power. The same principles enabled him to +lay the foundation of the doctrine of probabilities, an important +branch of mathematical science, which Huyghens, a few years +afterwards, improved, and which the Marquis la Place and M. +Poisson have so greatly extended. These treatises, with the +exception of that on the Cycloid, were composed and printed in +the year 1654, but were not published till 1668, after the death +of the author.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Pascal’s discoveries as to the cycloid belong to a later +period of his life, after he had long forsaken the scientific +studies which engrossed him at this time, <!-- page 48--><a +name="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 48</span>and had +become an inmate of Port Royal. But, as we have already +said, it is well to complete our view of his scientific labours +in a single chapter.</p> +<p>During an access of severe toothache which, in 1658, deprived +him of sleep, his thoughts fastened on certain problems connected +with the cycloid. Fermat, Roberval, and Torricelli had all +been occupied with the subject, and made some definite progress +in ascertaining its properties. But much still remained to +be done, and especially to resolve the problems connected with it +in a “general and uniform manner.” +“Pascal,” says Bossut, “devised within eight +days, and in the midst of cruel sufferings, a method which +embraced all the problems—a method founded upon the +summation of certain series, of which he had given the elements +in his writings accompanying his ‘Traité du Triangle +Arithmétique.’ From this discovery there was +only a step to that of the Differential and Integral Calculus; +and it may be confidently presumed that, if Pascal had proceeded +with his mathematical studies, he would have anticipated Leibnitz +and Newton in the glory of their great invention.”</p> +<p>Having communicated the result of his geometrical meditation +to the Duc de Roannez and some of his other religious friends, +they conceived the design of making it subservient to the triumph +of religion. Pascal himself was an illustrious example that +the highest mathematical genius and the humblest Christian piety +might be united; but in order to give <i>éclat</i> to such +an example, his friends proposed to propound publicly the +questions solved by the great Port Royalist in his moments of +suffering, and to offer prizes for the <!-- page 49--><a +name="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 49</span>best +solutions given of them. This they did in June 1658. +A programme was published making the offer of prizes of forty and +twenty pistoles, for the best determination of the area and the +centre of gravity of any segment of the cycloid, and the +dimensions and centres of gravity of solids and half and quarter +solids which the same curve would generate by revolving round an +abscissa and an ordinate. The programme was put forth in +the name of Amos Dettonville, the anagram of Pascal’s +assumed name as the writer of the ‘Provincial +Letters.’ Huyghens, Sluzsius, a canon of the +Cathedral of Liège, and Wren, the architect of St +Paul’s, sent in partial solutions of the +problems—those of Wren especially attracting the interest +of both Fermat and Roberval. But Wallis, of Oxford, and +Lallouère, a Jesuit of Toulouse, were the only two +competitors who treated all the problems proposed. It was +held that they had not completely succeeded in solving them; and +Dettonville published his own solution in an elaborate letter +addressed to M. Carcavi, and in a treatise on the subject. +Carcavi was an old friend of Pascal’s father as well as of +himself; and being a lawyer as well as a mathematician, the +arrangement of the affair seems to have been intrusted to +him. This did not save him, however, from attacks by the +disappointed candidates, who accused him of unfairness; and +Leibnitz has given his decision that both Wallis and +Lallouère, in the treatises which they +published,—which did not, however, appear till after +Pascal’s,—had succeeded in solving the +problems. Upon such a point we cannot pretend to judge; but +it may be safely said that the design of the Duc de Roannez was +hardly realised in the issue. <!-- page 50--><a +name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 50</span>It was +sufficiently proved, indeed, that Pascal, in the midst of all his +austerities and devotional exercises, was the same Pascal who had +held his own both with Descartes and with the Jesuits. But +the life of thought which survived in him no sooner touched the +outer world of intellectual ambition, than it flamed forth into +something of the passion of controversy which his pen had already +kindled in another direction. Religion is best vindicated, +not in the strifes of science, but by the beauty of its own +activities.</p> +<p>Pascal’s labours on the cycloid may be said to bring to +a close his scientific career. There is still one +invention, however, of a very practical kind, associated with the +very last months of his life. Amongst the letters of Madame +Périer, there is one of date March 24, 1662, addressed to +M. Arnauld de Pompone <a name="citation50"></a><a +href="#footnote50" class="citation">[50]</a>—a nephew of +the great Arnauld—in which she gives a lively description +of the success of an experiment “dans l’affaire des +carrosses.” The affair was nothing less than the +trial on certain routes in Paris of what is now known as an +“omnibus;” and the idea of such conveyances for the +public—“carrosses à cinq sols,” as they +were called—is attributed to Pascal. It is certain +that the privilege of running “carrosses à cinq +sols” was granted to Pascal’s friend, the Duc de +Roannez, and to other noblemen, by royal patent, in January +1662,—and that the experiment, as described by Madame +Périer, was made with great success in the following +March, and that Pascal had an active interest in the +undertaking. His sister tells that he had mortgaged his +share of its first year’s profits in order to provide <!-- +page 51--><a name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +51</span>for the poor at Blois; <a name="citation51"></a><a +href="#footnote51" class="citation">[51]</a> and a note from his +own hand, appended to his sister’s letter, shows with what +eagerness he entered into the affair and hailed its +success. It is singular to connect the name of Pascal, and +that, too, during the last sad months of his life, with so +world-wide a commonplace as the omnibus.</p> +<h2><!-- page 52--><a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +52</span>CHAPTER III.<br /> +PASCAL IN THE WORLD.</h2> +<p>Pascal’s health, we have seen, was very delicate. +His labours to perfect his arithmetical machine had seriously +impaired it. The attack of partial paralysis, described by +his niece, seems to have taken place in the early summer of +1647. As soon as he was able, he removed to Paris, where we +find him settled with his younger sister in September of the same +year. It was on the twenty-fifth of this month that +Jacqueline writes from Paris of Descartes’s memorable +visits. One of the motives of his change of residence was +no doubt to consult the best physicians of the day; and +Descartes, who, amongst his other numerous gifts, had some skill +in medicine, made his second visit to him partly as a +physician. “He came in part,” says Jacqueline, +“to consult as to my brother’s illness.” +He appears to have given him very sound advice, which, +unfortunately, Pascal did not follow—“to lie in bed +as much as he could, and take strong soup.” On the +contrary, he was “bled, bathed, and purged,” after +the usual medical routine of the time, apparently without any +good effects, or any alleviation of his sufferings.</p> +<p><!-- page 53--><a name="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +53</span>The father also returned to Paris in May 1648. The +Provincial Parliament, with regained authority, had exacted the +recall of the Intendants appointed by the Court. +Étienne Pascal’s services were remunerated by the +dignity of a Counsellor of State, and he was set at liberty to +rejoin his children. It was at this period that the +struggle took place betwixt father and daughter as to the +latter’s determination to choose a religious life. +Encouraged by her brother after his access of zeal at Rouen, +Jacqueline was gradually more and more drawn towards piety. +After their settlement in Paris they went frequently together to +the Church of Port Royal de Paris, to listen to the sermons of M. +Singlin, whose touching pictures of the beauty and perfection of +the Christian life awoke in the youthful enthusiast the desire of +entering Port Royal. She opened personal communications +with the sainted head of the House, the Mère +Angélique, and also with M. Singlin, who recognised in her +all the marks of a true vocation, but who would not allow her to +proceed further without her father’s consent and +approval. The brother at this time strongly sympathised +with her aspirations, and favoured them. On the +father’s arrival in Paris, the design of his daughter was +imparted to him. He was greatly surprised and moved by the +proposition—pleased, on the one hand, by his +daughter’s devotion, and yet deeply wounded by the idea of +parting with her. He took time for consideration, and at +length made up his mind that it was impossible to give his +consent. Not only so, but he strongly blamed his son, who +had broken the matter to him, for encouraging his sister’s +design without first ascertaining whether it would be agreeable +to himself, <!-- page 54--><a name="page54"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 54</span>and he seems for the time to have +felt so much distrust in them both, that he instructed an old +domestic, who had been with them from their youth, to watch over +their actions. This is the narrative of Madame +Périer; <a name="citation54a"></a><a href="#footnote54a" +class="citation">[54a]</a> and the unpleasantness which arose out +of this event appears also implied in Jacqueline’s letter +to her sister in the spring of the same year. <a +name="citation54b"></a><a href="#footnote54b" +class="citation">[54b]</a></p> +<p>In 1649 the Pascal family left Paris for Auvergne, and seem to +have remained there for about a year and a half. Madame +Périer says nothing of this visit, so far as her brother +is concerned, beyond the fact that he accompanied Jacqueline and +her father. The likelihood, however, is, that the visit was +in some degree prompted by a regard for Pascal’s +health. He had made in Paris some progress towards +recovery, notwithstanding the severity of his treatment. +But he was still far from well, and it was judged necessary, +“in order to re-establish him entirely, that he should +abandon every sort of mental occupation, and seek, as much as he +could, opportunities of amusing himself.” Her +brother, she adds, was very reluctant to take this advice, +“because he saw its danger.” At length, +however, he yielded, “considering himself obliged to do all +he could to restore his health, and because he thought that +trivial amusements could not harm him. So he set himself on +the world.” When this definite change in +Pascal’s life began is left uncertain, but there are +indications that he had largely abandoned his studies in 1649 and +the following year. During these years there is nothing +from his pen. The interval between the +“recital” of the experiments on the Puy de Dôme +(1648), and his letter to M. Ribeyre, <!-- page 55--><a +name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 55</span>12th July +1651, is blank in any record of scientific or literary +labour. This is not conclusive, of course, that he was +idle; but taken in connection with the remarks of his sister, and +the retirement to Auvergne, it suggests that the family may have +sought there, in rural isolation and domestic reunion, the means +of entirely withdrawing Pascal from his severer studies, and the +scientific companions who were constantly prompting them in +Paris. It may be, also, that the father sought the means of +withdrawing Jacqueline from the neighbourhood of Port Royal, and +from the equally exciting associations to her connected with that +neighbourhood.</p> +<p>Of Pascal’s life at this time in Auvergne we know +nothing, or next to nothing. There is, indeed, a single +trace, of which the most has been made, in the Memoirs of +Fléchier, describing his stay at Clermont in 1665 and +1666, a few years after Pascal’s death. In these +Memoirs, Fléchier relates an anecdote of a young lady +“who was the Sappho of the country,” and greatly +beloved by all the <i>beaux esprits</i> of the time. +Amongst others, “M. Pascal, who had then acquired so much +reputation, and another <i>savant</i>, were continually with this +<i>belle savante</i>.” It is difficult to know what +to make of this vague if piquant anecdote. Some of +Pascal’s more religious admirers have even been scandalised +by it, and have tried to show that it could not refer to the +author of the ‘Pensées.’ M. Cousin and +other parties have emphasised it too much. <a +name="citation55"></a><a href="#footnote55" +class="citation">[55]</a> There seems no reason to doubt +that the anecdote relates to the younger Pascal—it cannot +reasonably be supposed to relate to his father. Nor is +there any ground to suppose that Pascal <!-- page 56--><a +name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 56</span>was less +likely to be interested in a beautiful and accomplished +<i>demoiselle</i> than any other young man of his age. On +the contrary, there is some reason to think him at this time +peculiarly susceptible to the charms of female +companionship. The passing glimpse which the story gives of +his occupations in Auvergne, and the comparative brightness and +leisure in which it seems to set his life for a little, are +pleasing. It suggests the idea that the change to the +country had worked successfully, and that with rest and +retirement from Paris his health had greatly benefited.</p> +<p>It is a very different picture we get of the once brilliant +Jacqueline. If her father had cherished any hopes of +restoring her again to the world, he was destined to +disappointment. With her conversion at Rouen, and her +association with M. Singlin and Port Royal, her old life seems +entirely to have died out. Even her old pleasure in making +verses was renounced at the bidding of Port Royal. She was +told “that it was a talent of which God would not take any +account—it was necessary to bury it,” and this +although she only exerted it now in the service of religion and +the Church. While Madame Périer has given us no +details, and, indeed, no facts whatever, of her brother’s +life at this time, she has given us a minute picture of +Jacqueline’s austerities. In everything save in name +she had already become a nun. She wore a dress approaching +as nearly as possible to a religious habit; she fasted and kept +vigils; she spent her whole time either in the house alone, +absorbed in religious ecstasy, or abroad in works of active +charity; in every way she made it plainly to be known that it was +only her father’s wish that kept her in the world at +all.</p> +<p><!-- page 57--><a name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +57</span>After a stay in Auvergne of seventeen months, the family +returned to Paris in November 1650. There we still read of +the pious labours and devotion of Jacqueline—little or +nothing of her brother. How far the leisure of country life +may have weaned him from his old pursuits, how far the world had +begun to exercise a new attraction over him, we learn +nothing. It is evident from his letter to M. Périer +on his father’s death, nearly a year after this, that he +still cherished strongly his religious convictions. Yet +there is nothing in all this time to tell of his religious +profession; and Madame Périer plainly does not care to +dwell upon it, but hurries forward to the later and more edifying +period of his career. The impression is left upon us that +worldly distractions had already begun to influence his life.</p> +<p>These distractions rapidly acquired force after the +father’s death in the autumn of 1651 (September). The +devoted Jacqueline attended his last moments with assiduous +tenderness; but no sooner was the event over than she renewed her +determination to enter Port Royal. The issue cannot be so +well described as in Madame Périer’s +words:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Being ill,” she says, “I was +unable to leave Paris till the end of November. In this +interval, my brother, who was greatly afflicted, and had received +much consolation from my sister, imagined that her affection +would make her remain with him at least a year. . . . He +spoke to her on the subject, but in such a manner as to convey +the impression that she would not so far contradict him for fear +of redoubling his grief. This led her to dissemble her +intention till our arrival. Then she told me that her +resolution was fixed to adopt a religious life as soon as our +respective shares [of the father’s property] were +arranged. She would, <!-- page 58--><a +name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 58</span>however, +spare my brother by leading him to suppose she only meditated a +retreat! With this view, she disposed of everything in my +presence; our shares were settled on the last day of December; +and she fixed upon the 4th of January for carrying out her +decision. On the evening before, she begged me to say +something to my brother, that he might not be taken by +surprise. I did so with all the precaution I could; but +although I hinted that it was only a retreat, with the view of +knowing something of the sort of life, he did not fail to be +deeply touched. He withdrew very sad to his chamber without +seeing my sister, who was then in a small cabinet where she was +accustomed to retire for prayer. She did not come out till +my brother had left, as she feared his look would go to her +heart. I told her for him what words of tenderness he had +spoken; and after that we both retired. Though I consented +with all my heart to what my sister was doing, because I thought +it was for her the highest good, the greatness of her resolution +astonished and occupied my mind so that I could not sleep all +night. At seven o’clock, when I saw that my sister +was not up, I concluded that she was no longer sleeping, and +feared that she might be ill. Accordingly, I went to her +bed, where I found her still fast asleep. The noise I made +awoke her; she asked me what o’clock it was. I told +her; and having inquired how she was, and if she had slept well, +she said she was very well, and that she had slept +excellently. So she rose, dressed, and went away, doing +this, as everything else, with a tranquillity and equanimity +inconceivable. We said no adieu for fear of breaking +down. I only turned aside when I saw her ready to go. +In this manner she quitted the world on the 4th January 1652, +being then exactly twenty-six years and three months old.” +<a name="citation58"></a><a href="#footnote58" +class="citation">[58]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Our readers will not grudge this extract, so touching in its +simplicity. What a living picture does it give us of this +remarkable family!—the elder sister’s wakeful <!-- +page 59--><a name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +59</span>anxiety—the younger’s calm +determination—the brother’s half-suppressed yet +deeply-moved tenderness—the proud and sensitive reserve of +all the three. Jacqueline’s firmness was heroic, but +her heart was full of concern. She had escaped the +half-authoritative, half-supplicating entreaties of her brother, +and found refuge for her long-cherished solicitudes of heart in +the bosom of Port Royal, and the strong counsels both of the +Mère Angélique and the Mère +Agnès. But after a while this did not satisfy +her. When the time came to make her profession, she was +anxious to do so, not merely with her own consent, but with her +brother’s. And accordingly, she addressed him in the +following March a remarkable letter, in which, while reminding +him that she was her own mistress to do as she wished in a matter +so seriously affecting her life, she yet prayed him to give her a +kindly greeting in her solemn act, and to come to the ceremony of +her taking the vows. The letter breathes at once the +affection of a sister and the passion of a saint,—the proud +firmness so characteristic of the family, with a charming +sweetness, blending entreaty with command. She signs +herself already “Sister of Sainte Euphémie,” +the name which she adopted as an inmate of Port Royal, addressing +her brother for the most part with the grave formal +“you,” but now and then relapsing into the old +familiar “thou,” as if she were still in the family +home.</p> +<blockquote><p>“Do not take that away,” she says, <a +name="citation59"></a><a href="#footnote59" +class="citation">[59]</a> “which you cannot give. If +it is true that the world has preserved some impressions of the +friendship which it showed for me when I was with it, please God +this should not turn me from quitting it, nor you from consenting +to my doing so. This ought rather <!-- page 60--><a +name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 60</span>to be my +glory, and your joy, and that of all my true friends, as showing +the strength of my God, and that it is not the world which quits +me, but I that quit the world, and that the effort which it makes +to retain me is to be regarded as only a visible punishment of +the complacency with which I formerly regarded it, and which it +now pleases God to give me power to resist. . . . Do not +hinder those who do well; and do well yourself; or if you have +not the strength to follow me, at least do not hold me +back. Do not render me ungrateful to God for the grace +which He has given to one whom you love. . . . I wait this +proof of your brotherly friendship, and pray you to come to my +divine betrothal, which will take place, God helping, on Trinity +Sunday. I wrote also to my faithful one [her sister +Gilberte]. I beg you to console her, if there is need, and +encourage her. It is only for the sake of form that I ask +you to be present at the ceremony; for I do not believe you have +any thought of failing me. Be assured that I must renounce +you if you do.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The result of this moving appeal was to bring her brother to +her side.</p> +<blockquote><p>“He came the following day very much put +out,” she says, “with a bad headache, the result of +my letter, yet also very much softened, for instead of the two +years which he had formerly insisted on, he wished me merely to +wait till All Saints’ Day. But seeing me firm not to +delay, yet willing to give him some further time to think over +the matter, he melted entirely, and expressed pity for the +trouble which had made me delay so long a result which I had so +long and so ardently desired. He did not return at the +appointed time; but M. d’Andilly, at my request, had the +goodness to send for him on Saturday, and undertook the matter +with so much warmth, and yet skill, that he consented to +everything we wished.” <a name="citation60"></a><a +href="#footnote60" class="citation">[60]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Jacqueline gained her point so far; but painful <!-- page +61--><a name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +61</span>difficulties still remained, the story of which she +herself has also told us. <a name="citation61"></a><a +href="#footnote61" class="citation">[61]</a> While eager to +be admitted to the full privileges of her vocation, she did not +wish to enter Port Royal empty-handed. She thought herself +free to endow it with the share of her father’s fortune +which had fallen to her, and seems not to have doubted her +brother’s and sister’s concurrence in this act of +liberality. But they, on the contrary, were both for a time +deeply offended that she should apparently prefer strangers to +her own kindred. They took the matter “in an entirely +secular manner.” This greatly grieved her in turn; +and, balked at once in her wishes and her sisterly trust, she +pictures in the most lively colours the distress she +endured. La Mère Agnès consoled her in her +disappointment, and sought to carry her thoughts beyond the mere +chagrin which so obviously mingled with her higher feeling. +Her own somewhat resentful obstinacy gradually yielded to the +pure passivity of resignation—so strong in its seeming +weakness—which the sister of Arnauld preached to her. +At length she is content to make no further demands upon her +brother. He and Madame Périer shall do as they wish; +the money would not be blessed unless it came from free hearts, +and was given for the love of God. She is willing even to +be received gratuitously as a sister—a feeling evidently +not without its bitterness. Her submission became, as may +be guessed, her triumph; a result probably not unforeseen by the +deeper experience of La Mère Agnès and M. +Singlin.</p> +<p><!-- page 62--><a name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +62</span>When her brother—“he who had most interest +in the affair”—at last came to see her, she +endeavoured to meet him as the Mother advised. “But, +with all her effort” she could not hide the sadness of her +heart.</p> +<blockquote><p>“This,” she says, “was so unlike +my usual manner, that he perceived it at once; and there was no +need of an interpreter to explain the cause, for though I put on +the best face I could, he easily guessed that it was his own +conduct which was the cause of my uneasiness. All the same, +he was desirous of making the first complaint; and then I learned +that both he and my sister felt themselves much aggrieved by what +I had written. He dwelt on this, but could hardly go on, +seeing I made no complaint on my side. Otherwise, I could +have destroyed by a single word all his reasons!”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>A true family trait! The result of all was, that Pascal +yielded to the tender resignation of his sister what he had +refused to her arguments. He was so “touched,” +she says, “with confusion, that he resolved to put the +whole affair in order,” and to undertake himself any risks +or charges that it might involve.</p> +<p>But the heads of the House required to be satisfied, no less +than Jacqueline. They were not disposed to accept any gift +which was not freely and piously given. Accordingly, before +the final disposition of the property was made, La Mère +Angélique took care that Pascal should understand the +matter anew from the Port-Royalist point of view. St Cyran +had taught them that they were never “to receive anything +for the house of God but that which came from God.” +Even he was not a little surprised, according to the statement of +his sister, at all this scrupulousness—“the manner in +which we deal with such matters;” and the men of business +whose <!-- page 63--><a name="page63"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 63</span>presence was necessary on the +occasion are represented as astonished beyond measure. +“They had never seen business done in such a +way.” At length, however, all was completed. +Pascal professed the genuineness of his motives, and only +regretted that it was not in his power to do more.</p> +<p>If this narrative mainly concerns Jacqueline Pascal, it serves +to throw light upon the character and life of her brother at this +time. In the course of her “relation,” +Jacqueline, or her interlocutor La Mère Agnès, +makes frequent allusion to Pascal’s “worldly +life.” When she is vexed that he will not carry out +her desires in the matter of the dowry, she is reminded that she +had far more reason to be distressed by the “faults and +infidelities” into which he had fallen towards God. <a +name="citation63a"></a><a href="#footnote63a" +class="citation">[63a]</a> He is represented as being so +much engrossed with the vanities and amusements of the world as +to prefer his own pleasure and advantage to the good of a +religious community or the pious gratification of his +sister. It was only by some miracle that it could be +otherwise; and there was no reason to “expect a miracle of +grace in a person like him.” <a name="citation63b"></a><a +href="#footnote63b" class="citation">[63b]</a> All the +means at his command were hardly sufficient to enable him to live +in the world “like others of his condition,” and the +associates with whom he was known to be mingling. <a +name="citation63c"></a><a href="#footnote63c" +class="citation">[63c]</a></p> +<p>Plainly at this time Pascal was abandoned by Port Royal. +He had “set himself,” as his sister briefly says, +“on the world.” As his niece more particularly +indicates, <a name="citation63d"></a><a href="#footnote63d" +class="citation">[63d]</a> he had given himself up to the +amusements of life. Unable to study, the love of leisure +and of <!-- page 64--><a name="page64"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 64</span>fashionable society had gradually +gained upon him. At first he was moderate in his worldly +enjoyments; but a taste for them insensibly sprang up and carried +him far away from his old associations and the pious severities +of his former life. After his father’s death this +change was more clearly marked. He was master of his own +affairs, and he plunged more freely into the pleasures of +society, although always, it is distinctly said, “without +any vice or licentiousness.” All this, his niece +adds, was very grievous to her aunt Jacqueline, who grieved in +spirit at seeing him who had been the means of making her learn +the nothingness of the world return to its vanities.</p> +<p>Too much is not to be made of such statements, or the still +stronger expressions of Jacqueline herself in her letters +regarding her brother’s final conversion. When she +speaks of “wretched attachments” binding him to the +world, and of his being still “haunted by the smell of the +mud which he had embraced with such <i>empressement</i>,” +<a name="citation64"></a><a href="#footnote64" +class="citation">[64]</a> we are to remember that she speaks not +only out of the severity of her own youthful judgment, (and what +judgment is so severe at times as that of youth?) but out of the +mouth of Port Royal. She condemns a world which was no +doubt bad enough, but of which she knew nothing. Her +allusions to the “grandeur” of her brother’s +life and similar indications have led Sainte-Beuve and others to +speak of his extravagance at this time. He is supposed not +only to have lived in the world, but to have lived in a style +above his means—the companion of men of higher social +position than himself, profuse in their habits and +expenditure. <!-- page 65--><a name="page65"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 65</span>That he lived in the midst of society +of this kind can hardly be doubted. It is more doubtful how +far his own habits had become those of an extravagant man of the +world. His chief companion was one who remained bound to +him through all the rest of his life, Pascal’s influence +having drawn him also from the world when the time of his own +change came. This was the Duc de Roannez, a young man of +fewer years than himself, who seems to have possessed many +attractive qualities. He was devoted to Pascal—could +hardly “bear him out of his sight,” as Marguerite +Périer says—and Pascal warmly returned his +friendship. It seems as if they had lived together a good +deal, or at least that Pascal spent the most of his time with the +young Duke; and it was in his house and society no doubt that he +tasted the joys and perils of that fashionable and luxurious life +of which his sister speaks so bitterly. <a +name="citation65a"></a><a href="#footnote65a" +class="citation">[65a]</a> It was a life, after all, of +thoughtless enjoyment rather than of any deeper folly. Both +men were as yet very young—the Duke only twenty-two years +of age, and Pascal twenty-eight. After his simple and +severe training, and the society of his Jansenist friends, it +must have been a change full of excitement, possibly of moral +danger, to the once enthusiastic student; for the society of the +time was charged with the elements both of sceptical and moral +indifference. It has been even said that “no society +was ever more grandly dissolute” than that of the Fronde, +“when women like La Barette <a name="citation65b"></a><a +href="#footnote65b" class="citation">[65b]</a> <!-- page 66--><a +name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 66</span>and La +Couronne took the lead in the least discreet +pleasures.”</p> +<p>Among the men whom Pascal evidently met at the hotel of the +Duc de Roannez, and with whom he formed something of a +friendship, was the well-known Chevalier de Méré, +whom we know best as a tutor of Madame de Maintenon, and whose +graceful but flippant letters still survive as a picture of the +time. He was a gambler and libertine, yet with some +tincture of science and professed interest in its progress. +In his correspondence there is a letter to Pascal, in which he +makes free in a somewhat ridiculous manner with the young +geometrician already so distinguished. Other names still +less reputable—those of Miton and Desbarreaux, for +example—have been associated with Pascal during this +period. Miton was undoubtedly an intimate ally of De +Méré, and amidst all his dissoluteness, made +pretensions to scientific knowledge and attainments as a +writer. Desbarreaux was a companion of both, but of a still +lower grade—a man of open profligacy, and a despiser of the +rites of the Church. Along with Miton and other boon +companions, he is spoken of as betaking himself to St Cloud for +carnival during the Holy Week. <a name="citation66"></a><a +href="#footnote66" class="citation">[66]</a> The truth +would seem to be that all these men came across Pascal’s +path at this time, and were more or less known to him. His +allusions to both Miton and Desbarreaux in the Pensées +imply this. There is a certain familiarity of knowledge +indicated in the very <!-- page 67--><a name="page67"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 67</span>heartiness with which he assails +them—speaking of Miton as “hateful,” <a +name="citation67a"></a><a href="#footnote67a" +class="citation">[67a]</a> and of Desbarreaux as having renounced +reason and made himself a “brute.” <a +name="citation67b"></a><a href="#footnote67b" +class="citation">[67b]</a> But it is against all +probability, no less than against all the facts known to us, to +suppose that Pascal had more connection with such men than +meeting them in the society in which he moved during these years, +and becoming well acquainted with the intellectual and moral +atmosphere which they breathed. It may be too much to say, +with Faugère, that he was then consciously imbibing the +experience to be afterwards utilised in his great work, or that +it was the principles professed by these men which gave him the +first idea of such a work; but we may certainly say that the +knowledge of them, as well as all the knowledge he acquired at +this time, served to deepen and extend his moral intuitions, and +to give a finer point to many of his Thoughts. And no +student of Pascal can doubt that “if his feet touched for a +moment the dirt of this dissolute society, his divine wings +remained unsoiled.” <a name="citation67c"></a><a +href="#footnote67c" class="citation">[67c]</a></p> +<p>A more interesting point than any, however, still remains in +connection with this period of his life. It was now, or +soon after, that Pascal must have composed the “Discours +sur les Passions de l’Amour,” one of the most +exquisite fragments which have come from his +pen,—remarkable both in itself and in the circumstances of +its discovery by M. Cousin about thirty years ago. M. +Cousin has himself related these circumstances in minute detail, +and with a certain self-elation. <a name="citation67d"></a><a +href="#footnote67d" class="citation">[67d]</a> According to +M. Faugère, there was no particular difficulty, <!-- page +68--><a name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 68</span>and +therefore no particular merit, in the discovery. The +fragment was clearly indexed in a catalogue of the Pascal MSS. in +the well-known State library of Paris as follows: “Discours +sur les Passions de l’Amour, par M. Pascal,” and +again in the body of the volume the fragment was entitled, +“Discours, etc., on l’attribue à M. +Pascal.” The genuineness of the fragment seems +admitted on all hands. “In the first line,” +says Cousin, “I felt Pascal, and my conviction of its +authorship grew as I proceeded—his ardent and lofty manner, +half thought, half passion, and that speech so fine and grand, an +accent which I would recognise amongst a thousand.” <a +name="citation68a"></a><a href="#footnote68a" +class="citation">[68a]</a> “The soul and thought of +Pascal,” says Faugère, “shine everywhere in +the pages, steeped in a melancholy at once chaste and +ardent.” <a name="citation68b"></a><a +href="#footnote68b" class="citation">[68b]</a></p> +<p>The following extracts may give some idea of this remarkable +paper. It commences in an abstract, aphoristic manner not +uncommon with Pascal:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Man is born to think; he is never a moment +without thinking. But pure thought, which, if it could be +sustained, would make him happy, fatigues and prostrates +him. He could not live a life of mere thought; movement and +action are necessary to him. He must be agitated by the +passions, whose sources he feels deep and strong in his +heart. The passions most characteristic of man, and which +embrace most others, are love and ambition. They have no +affinity, yet they are often united; together, they tend to +weaken if not destroy each other. For however grand the +human spirit, it is only capable at once of one great +passion. When love and ambition meet, each therefore falls +short of what it would otherwise be. Age determines neither +the beginning nor the end of these two passions. They are +born with the first years, they continue often to the +last.”</p> +<p><!-- page 69--><a name="page69"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +69</span>“Man finds no full scope for love in himself, yet +he loves. It is necessary, therefore, for him to seek an +object of love elsewhere. This he can only find in +beauty. But as he himself is the most beautiful creature +that God has made, he must find in himself the type of that +beauty which he seeks elsewhere. This defines and embodies +itself in the difference of sex. A woman is the highest +form of beauty. Endowed with mind, she is its living and +marvellous personation. If a beautiful woman wishes to +please, she will always succeed. The fascinations of beauty +in such a case never fail to captivate, whatever man may do to +resist them. There is a spot in every heart which they +reach.”</p> +<p>“Love is of no age; it is always being born. The +poets tell us so, and hence we represent it as a child. It +creates intelligence, and feeds upon intelligence. . . . We +exhaust our power of gratifying it every day, and yet every day +it is necessary to renew its gratification.”</p> +<p>“Man in solitude is an incomplete being; he needs +companionship for happiness. He seeks this commonly in a +like condition with his own, because habits of desire and +opportunity in such a case are most readily found by him. +But <i>sometimes he fixes his affections on an object far beyond +his rank</i>, and the flame burns the more intensely that he is +forced to conceal it in his own bosom. When we love one of +elevated condition, ambition may at first coexist with +affection. But love soon becomes the master. It is a +tyrant which suffers no rival; it must reign alone. Every +other emotion must subserve and obey its dictates. A high +attachment fills the heart more completely than a common and +equal one. Small things are carried away in the great +capacity of love.”</p> +<p>“The pleasure of loving, without daring to say anything +of one’s love, has its pains, but also its +sweetnesses. With what transport do we regulate all our +actions with the view of pleasing one whom we infinitely value! . +. . The fulness of love sometimes languishes, receiving no +succour from the beloved object. Then we fall into misery; +and hostile passions, lying in wait for the heart, tear it in a +thousand pieces. But anon a ray of hope—the very +least it may be—raises us <!-- page 70--><a +name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 70</span>as high as +ever. Sometimes this comes from mere dalliance, but +sometimes also from an honest pity. How happy such a moment +when it comes!”</p> +<p>“The first effect of love is to inspire a great +respect. We revere whom we really love. This is +right, and we know nothing in the world so grand as this. . . +. In love we forget fortune, parents, friends, and the +reason of this is that we imagine we need nothing else than the +object of our love. The heart is full; there is no room for +care nor disquietude. Passion is then necessarily in +excess; there is a plenitude in it which resists the commencement +of reflection. Yet love and reason are not to be opposed, +and love has always reason with it, although it implies a +precipitation of thought which carries us away without due +examination. Otherwise we should be very disagreeable +machines. Do not exclude reason from love, therefore; they +are truly inseparable. The poets are wrong in representing +love as blind. It is necessary to take away his veil, and +give him henceforth the joy of sight.”</p> +<p>“It is not merely the result of custom, but a dictate of +nature, that man should make the first advances in love. . . +. Great souls require an inundation of passion to disturb +and fill them; but when they begin to love, they love supremely. +. . . When we are away from the object of our love we +resolve to do and say many things, but when we are present we +hesitate. The explanation is, that at a distance the reason +is undisturbed, but in presence of the beloved object it is +strangely moved. In love we fear to hazard lest we lose +all. It is necessary to advance, yet who can tell to what +point? We tremble always till we reach this point, and yet +prudence does not help us to keep it when we have found it. . . +. There is nothing so embarrassing as to be in love, and +see something in our favour without daring to believe in +it. Hope and fear rage within us, and the last too often +triumphs.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The question arises, What interpretation are we to put on +these chaste yet glowing sentences? It seems hardly <!-- +page 71--><a name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +71</span>possible to believe that they were not penned out of +some real experience. Pascal was not the man to busy +himself in writing an imaginary essay on such a subject. +Nothing can be conceived less like the sketch of a mere moral +analyst standing outside the passion he describes. There +may be a tendency here and there to over-analysis, and to the +balancing of antitheses now on one side and now on the other; but +there is the breath of true passion all through the piece, and +touching, as with fire, many of its many fine utterances. +Who was then, conceivably, the object of Pascal’s +affections? We have it on the authority of his niece that +at this time, when he lived so much as the companion of the Duc +de Roannez, he contemplated marrying and settling in the world. +<a name="citation71"></a><a href="#footnote71" +class="citation">[71]</a> This, and the indications of the +piece itself, have led to the conjecture that he was in love with +the sister of his friend. Charlotte Gouffier de Roannez was +then about sixteen years of age, endowed with captivating graces +of form and manner, animated by a sweet intelligence and by that +charm of spiritual sympathy so likely to prove attractive to a +man like Pascal. Occupying rooms in the house of his +friend, who, we have seen, could not bear him out of his sight, +Pascal and Mademoiselle de Roannez were necessarily much in each +other’s society. What so natural as that he should +fall in love, and overlooking all disparity of rank, cherish the +secret hope of a union with one so gifted and beautiful?—or +why may not ambition have mingled with his love, as he himself +implies, and carried him for a time into a dreamland from which +all shadows fell away?</p> +<p><!-- page 72--><a name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +72</span>It is impossible to do more than form conjectures in +such a matter. To M. Faugère nothing seems more +probable. M. Cousin resents the supposition as derogatory +to Pascal, and as utterly inconsistent with the usages of the age +of Louis XIV. But even were it impossible, according to the +usages of the time, that Pascal should have ever married +Mademoiselle de Roannez, this is no proof that he may not have +fallen in love with her. There is much in this paper that +favours the idea, that while Pascal loved deeply he yet never +told his love; and the social obstacles, which for a time may +have seemed to him surmountable, at last may have shut out all +hope from his heart. Many causes might unite to do this, +even supposing his love was returned. It is certain that he +continued the warm friend, not only of the Duc de Roannez, but of +his sister; and in after-years a correspondence was established +betwixt them implying the highest degree of mutual esteem and +confidence. We have only the letters of Pascal; nothing is +known of those of Mademoiselle de Roannez; the rigidity of the +Jansenist copyists have given us only extracts even of the +former. All trace of earthly passion, if it ever existed, +has gone from the pious page in which the Jansenist saint sets +forth his exhortations. Yet it argues no common interest, +that Pascal should pause in the midst of his conflict with the +Jesuits to advise and direct his former companion; and +Faugère professes that even before he had read the +‘Discours’ he could trace a “tender +solicitude”—more than the mere impulse of Christian +charity—beneath all the grave severity of his religious +phrases.</p> +<p>The fate of Mademoiselle de Roannez was not a <!-- page +73--><a name="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 73</span>happy +one. After vacillating for some time between the cloister +and the world—obeying the guidance of Pascal, either +directly or through Madame Périer, and even passing +through her novitiate at Port Royal with “extraordinary +fervour”—she was persuaded to marry and become the +Duchesse de la Feuillade. But her marriage proved +unfortunate. Her children died young; her own health broke +down; she herself at length died under an operation, bequeathing +a legacy to Port Royal, which had remained entwined with all +dearest associations. Whether Pascal and she had loved each +other or not, this sacred Home bound their best thoughts +together, and serves to recall their highest aspirations.</p> +<p>It falls to us now to describe how Port Royal claimed the +heart of Pascal, and called forth the chief activities of his +remaining years.</p> +<h2><!-- page 74--><a name="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +74</span>CHAPTER IV.<br /> +PORT ROYAL AND PASCAL’S LATER YEARS.</h2> +<p>Whatever day-dreams Pascal may have cherished, “God +called him,” as his sister says, “to a great +perfection.” It was not in his nature to be satisfied +with either the enchantments or the ambitions of the world. +All the while that he mixed in the luxurious society of Paris, +and seemed merely one of its thoughtless throng, there were +throbs within him of a higher life which could not be +stilled. His conscience reproached him continually amidst +all his amusements, and left him uneasy even in the most exulting +moments of the love that filled his heart. This is no +hypothetical picture, but one suggested by himself in +conversation with his sister. She tells us from her retreat +how her brother came to see her, fascinated by the steadfastness +of her faith, in contrast with his own indifference and +vacillation. Formerly it was his zeal which had drawn her +to higher thoughts. Now it is the attraction of her piety +which sways him, and leaves him unhappy amidst all the seductions +of the society in which he mingles. “God made use of +my sister,” says Madame Périer, “for the great +design, as <!-- page 75--><a name="page75"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 75</span>He had formerly made use of my +brother, when He desired to withdraw my sister from her +engagements in the world.”</p> +<p>The severe Jacqueline tells with unfaltering breath the story +of her brother’s spiritual anxieties. She had ceased +herself to have any worldly thoughts.</p> +<blockquote><p>“She led,” says Madame Périer, +“a life so holy, that she edified the whole house: and in +this state it was a special pain to her to see one to whom she +felt herself indebted, under God, for the grace which she +enjoyed, no longer himself in possession of these graces: and as +she saw my brother frequently, she spoke to him often, and +finally with such force and sweetness, that she persuaded him, as +he had at first persuaded her, absolutely to abandon the +world.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Writing to her sister on the 25th of January 1655, she says +that Pascal came to see her at the end of the previous +September.</p> +<blockquote><p>“At this visit he opened himself to me in +such a manner as moved my pity, confessing that in the midst of +his exciting occupations, and of so many things fitted to make +him love the world—to which we had every reason to think +him strongly attached—he was yet forcibly moved to quit +all; both by an extreme aversion to its follies and amusements, +and by the continual reproach made by his conscience. He +felt himself detached from his surroundings in such a manner as +he had never felt before, or even approaching to it; yet, +otherwise, he was in such abandonment that there was no movement +in his heart to God. Though he sought Him with all his +power, he felt that it was more his own reason and spirit that +moved him towards what he knew to be best, than any movement of +the Divine Spirit. If he only had the Divine sentiments he +once had, he believed himself, in his present state of +detachment, capable of undertaking <!-- page 76--><a +name="page76"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +76</span>everything. It must be, therefore, some wretched +ties <a name="citation76"></a><a href="#footnote76" +class="citation">[76]</a> which still held him back, and made him +resist the movements of the Divine Spirit. The confession +surprised me as much as it gave me joy; and thenceforth I +conceived hopes that I had never had, and thought I must +communicate with you in order to induce you to pray on his +behalf. If I were to relate all the other visits in detail, +I should be obliged to write a volume; for since then they have +been so frequent and so long, that I was wellnigh engrossed by +them. I confined myself to watching his mood without +attempting unduly to influence him; and gradually I saw him so +growing in grace that I would hardly have known him. I +believe you will have the same difficulty, if God continues His +work; especially in such wonderful humility, submission, +diffidence, self-contempt, and desire to be nothing in the esteem +and memory of men. Such he is at present. God alone +knows what a day will bring forth.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Finally, after many visits and struggles with himself, +especially as to his choice of a spiritual guide, he became an +inmate of Port Royal des Granges, under the guidance of M. de +Saci. The questions betwixt him and his sister as to his +selection of a confessor or director are very curious, revealing, +as they do, the quiet self-possessed decision of the one, the +scruples of the other, and the proud self-respect of both. +As to one of Pascal’s difficulties, she says, without +misgiving—“I saw clearly that this was only a remnant +of independence hidden in the depth of his heart, which armed +itself with every weapon to ward off a submission which yet in +his state of feeling must be perfect.” M. Singlin was +willing to assist the sister with his advice, but was reluctant +<!-- page 77--><a name="page77"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +77</span>himself, in his weak state of health, to assume full +responsibilities towards the brother. Jacqueline herself +appeared to him the best director her brother could have for the +time; and there is a charming blending of humility and yet +assumption in the manner in which she relates this, and speaks of +“our new convert.” But finally there is found +in M. de Saci a director “with whom he is delighted, for he +comes of a good stock” (dont it est tout ravi, aussi est-il +de bonne race).</p> +<p>Pascal first sought retirement in a residence of his own in +the country. It is particularly mentioned amongst the +reasons for his withdrawal from Paris, that the Duc de Roannez, +“who engaged him almost entirely,” was about to +return there. Unable to find everything to his wish, +however, in his own house, “he obtained a chamber or little +cell among the Solitaries of Port Royal,” from which he +wrote to his sister with extreme joy that he was lodged and +treated like a prince, “according to St Bernard’s +judgment of what it was to be a prince.” It is still +Jacqueline’s pen which reports all this to Madame +Périer. She continues in the same letter:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“He joins in every office of the Church from +Prime to Compline, without feeling the slightest inconvenience in +rising at five o’clock in the morning; and as if it was the +will of God that he should join fasting to watching, in defiance +of all the medical prescriptions which had forbidden him both the +one and the other, he found that supper disagreed with him, and +was about to give it up.” <a name="citation77"></a><a +href="#footnote77" class="citation">[77]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Such is the story of Pascal’s final conversion and +retirement from the world. Jacqueline’s details fill +in the briefer sketch of Madame Périer, and both tell the +<!-- page 78--><a name="page78"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +78</span>story at first hand. None could have known so well +as they did all the circumstances. It is remarkable, +therefore, that neither of them says anything of the well-known +incident, emphasised by Bossut as the mainly exciting cause of +his great change:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“One day,” it is said, “in the +month of October 1654, when he went, according to his habit, to +take his drive to the bridge of Neuilly <i>in a carriage and +four</i>, the two leading horses became restive at a part of the +road where there was a parapet, and precipitated themselves into +the Seine. Fortunately, the first strokes of their feet +broke the traces which attached them to the pole, and the +carriage was stayed on the brink of the precipice. The +effect of such a shock on one of Pascal’s feeble health may +be imagined. He swooned away, and was only restored with +difficulty, and his nerves were so shattered that long +afterwards, during sleepless nights and during moments of +weakness, he seemed to see a precipice at his bedside, over which +he was on the point of falling.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This alarming incident, which comes from nearly contemporary +tradition, no doubt contributed to Pascal’s retirement from +the world, and no less probably also a strange vision he had at +this time, to which we shall afterwards advert. But it is +peculiarly interesting to trace the inner history of +Pascal’s great change. Evidently, from what his +sister says, his mind had been for some time very ill at ease in +the great world in which he lived. How far this was the +working of his old religious convictions continually renewing +their influence through the conversation of his sister, how far +it was mere weariness and disgust with the frivolities of +fashionable life, and how far it may have been baffled hope and +the disenchantments of a broken dream of love, we cannot clearly +tell. All may have moved him, and brought <!-- page 79--><a +name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 79</span>him to that +strange state of isolation which she describes from his own +account. But plainly the world-weariness preceded the fresh +dawn of divine strength in his heart; and there is a tone of +hopelessness in speaking of his detachment from all the things +surrounding him, which favours the thought that some new and +unwonted smart had entered into his life, and driven him forth to +the quiet shelter, where at length he found his old peace with +God, and the great mission to which God had called him.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>The monastery of Port Royal, in which his sister had already +found a home, remains indelibly associated with Pascal. It +was founded in the beginning of the thirteenth century, in the +reign of Philip Augustus; and a later tradition claimed this +magnificent monarch as the author of its foundation and of its +name. It is said that one day he wandered into the famous +valley during the chase, and became lost in its woods, when he +was at length discovered near to an ancient chapel of St +Lawrence, which was much frequented by the devout of the +neighbourhood, and that, grateful because the place had been to +him a Port Royal or royal refuge, he resolved to build a church +there. But this is the story of a time when, as it has been +said, “royal founders were in fashion.” More +truly, the name is considered to be derived from the general +designation of the fief or district in which the valley lies, +<i>Porrois</i>—which, again, is supposed to be a corruption +of <i>Porra</i> or <i>Borra</i>, meaning a marshy and woody +hollow.</p> +<p>The valley of Port Royal presents to this day the same natural +features which attracted the eye of the devout <!-- page 80--><a +name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 80</span>solitary in +the seventeenth century. Some years ago I paid a +long-wished-for visit to it. It lies about eighteen miles +west of Paris, and seven or eight from Versailles, on the road to +Chevreuse. As the traveller approaches it from Versailles, +the long lines of a level and somewhat dreary road, only relieved +by rows of tall poplar-trees, break into a more picturesque +country. An antique mouldering village, with quaint little +church, its grey lichen-marked stones brightened by the warm +sunshine of a September day, and the straggling vines drooping +their pale dusty leaves over the cottage-doors, made a welcome +variety in the monotonous landscape. How hazy yet cheerful +was the brightness in which the poor mean houses seemed to +sleep! After this the road swept down a long declivity, +crowned on one side by an irregular outline of wood, and +presenting here and there broken and dilapidated traces of former +habitations. The famous valley of Port Royal lay before +us. It was a quiet and peaceful yet gloomy scene. The +seclusion was perfect. No hum of cheerful industry +enlivened the desolate space. An air rather as of +long-continued neglect rested on ruined garden and terraces, on +farmhouse and dovecot, and the remains as of a chapel nearer at +hand. The more minutely the eye took in the scene, the more +sad seemed its wasted recesses and the few monuments of its +departed glories. The stillness as of a buried past lay all +about, and it required an effort of imagination to people the +valley with the sacred activities of the seventeenth century.</p> +<p>A rough wooden enclosure has been erected on the site of the +high altar surmounted by a cross. It contained a few +memorials, amongst the most touching of <!-- page 81--><a +name="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 81</span>which were +simple portraits of Arnauld, Le Maitre, De Saci, Quesnel, Nicole, +Pascal, the Mère Angélique, the Mère +Agnès, Jacqueline Pascal, and Dr Hanlon the +physician. Two portraits of the Mère Agnès +particularly impressed me. The lines of the face were +exquisitely touching in their gentle bravery and patience. +As I looked at the noble and sweet countenances grouped on the +bare unadorned walls, the sacred memories of the place rose +vividly before my mind. It was here alone that the recluses +from the neighbouring Grange met the sainted sisterhood, and +mingled with them the prayers and tears of penitence. +Otherwise they dwelt apart, each in diligent privacy, intent on +their works of education or of charity. All the ruin and +decay and somewhat dreary sadness of the scene could not weaken +my sense of the beautiful life of thought and faith and hope and +love that had once breathed there; and never before had I felt so +deeply the enduring reality of the spiritual heroism and +self-sacrifice, the glory of suffering and of goodness, that had +made the spot so memorable.</p> +<p>The monastery was founded, not by Philip Augustus, but by +Matthieu, first Lord of Marli, a younger son of the noble house +of Montmorency. Having formed the design of accompanying +the crusade proclaimed by Innocent III. to the Holy Land, he left +at the disposal of his wife, Mathilde de Garlande, and his +kinsman, the Bishop of Paris, a sum of money to devote to some +pious work in his absence. They agreed to apply it to the +erection of a monastery for nuns in this secluded valley, that +had already acquired a reputation for sanctity in connection with +the old chapel dedicated to St Lawrence, which attracted large +numbers of worshippers. The <!-- page 82--><a +name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 82</span>foundations +of the church and monastery were laid in 1204. They were +designed by the same architect who built the Cathedral of Amiens, +and ere long the graceful and beautiful structures were seen +rising in the wilderness. The nuns belonged to the +Cistercian order. Their dress was white woollen, with a +black veil; but afterwards they adopted as their distinctive +badge a large scarlet cross on their white scapulary, as the +symbol of the “Institute of the Holy Sacrament.”</p> +<p>The abbey underwent the usual history of such +institutions. Distinguished at first by the strictness of +its discipline and the piety of its inmates, it became gradually +corrupted with increasing wealth, till, in the end of the +sixteenth century, it had grown notorious for gross and +scandalous abuses. The revenues were squandered in luxury; +the nuns did what they liked; and the extravagances and +dissipations of the world were repeated amidst the solitudes +which had been consecrated to devotion. But at length its +revival arose out of one of the most obvious abuses connected +with it. The patronage of the institution, like that of +others, had been distributed without any regard to the fitness of +the occupants, even to girls of immature age. In this +manner the abbey of Port Royal accidentally fell to the lot of +one who was destined by her ardent piety to breathe a new life +into it, and by her indomitable and lofty genius to give it an +undying reputation.</p> +<p>Jacqueline Marie Arnauld—better known by her official +name, La Mère Angélique—was appointed abbess +of Port Royal when she was only eight years of age. She was +descended from a distinguished family belonging originally to the +old <i>noblesse</i> of Provence, but <!-- page 83--><a +name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 83</span>which had +migrated to Auvergne and settled there. Of vigorous +healthiness, both mental and physical, the Arnaulds had already +acquired a merited position and name in the annals of +France. In the beginning of the sixteenth century it found +its way to Paris in the person of Antoine Arnauld, Seigneur de la +Mothe, the grandfather of the heroine of Port Royal. M. de +la Mothe, as he was commonly called, was endowed with the +energetic will, and with more than the usual talents, of his +family. He was specially known as +Procureur-général to Catherine de Médicis; +but, as he himself said, he wore “a soldier’s coat as +well as a lawyer’s robe.” He was a Huguenot, +and nearly perished in the Bartholomew massacre. He had +eight sons, every one of whom more or less achieved distinction +in the service of their country; but his second son and namesake +peculiarly inherited his father’s legal talents, and became +his successor in the office of +Procureur-général. He more than rivalled his +father’s forensic success; and many traditions survive of +his great eloquence, and of the pre-eminent ability with which he +pleaded on behalf of the University of Paris for the expulsion of +the Jesuits from France, under suspicion of having instigated an +attempt on the life of Henri IV. in 1593. This great effort +has been called the “original sin” of the Arnauld +family against the Jesuit order, which was never forgiven. +His eloquence produced such an impression, that it is said the +judges rose in their seats to listen to his speech, while crowds +assembled at the closed doors of the Court to catch its partial +echoes. And yet, like some other great speeches, it cannot +now be read without weariness.</p> +<p>Antoine Arnauld married the youthful daughter of M. <!-- page +84--><a name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +84</span>Marion, the Avocat-général, who became a +mother while still only a girl of fifteen, but who grew into a +noble and large-hearted woman, full of deeds of piety and +charity. In all, the couple had twenty children, and felt, +as may be imagined, the pressure of providing for so many. +Out of this pressure came the remarkable lot of two of the +daughters. The benefices of the Church were a fruitful +field of provision, and the avocat-général, the +maternal grandfather of the children, had large ecclesiastical +influence. The result was the appointment not only of one +daughter to the abbey of Port Royal, but also of a younger +sister, Agnès, only six years of age, to the abbey of St +Cyr, about six miles distant from Port Royal. Difficulties, +not without reason, were found in obtaining the papal sanction to +such appointments; but these were at last overcome by means, it +is said, more creditable to M. Arnauld’s ability than to +his integrity.</p> +<p>At the age of eleven, in the year 1602, Angélique was +installed Abbess of Port Royal. Her sister took the veil at +the age of seven. United in the nursery, they had also +spent some months together at the abbey of St Cyr, in preparation +for their solemn office. They were of marked but very +contrasted characters. The elder inherited the strong will +and dominant energy of her race. As yet, and for some time +afterwards, without any religious bias, she contemplated her +prospects with a quiet and proud consciousness of +responsibility. The younger sister was of a softer and more +submissive nature. She shrank from her high position, +saying that an abbess had to answer to God for the souls of her +nuns, and she was sure that she would have enough to do to take +care of her own. Angélique had no such <!-- page +85--><a name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +85</span>scruples. She was glad to be an abbess, and was +resolved that her nuns should thoroughly do their duty. +These sayings have been preserved in the memoirs of the family, +and are supposed to indicate happily the firm, persistent spirit +and legislative capacity of the one sister, in contrast with the +passive rather than active strength, and milder yet no less +enduring purpose, of the other.</p> +<p>The remarkable story of Angélique’s conversion by +the preaching of a Capucin friar in 1608, her strange contest +with her parents which followed, the strengthening impulses in +different directions which her religious life received, first +from the famous St Francis de Sales, and finally, and especially, +from the no less remarkable Abbé de St Cyran, all belong +to the history of Port Royal, and cannot be detailed here. +It is a touching and beautiful story, which can never lose its +interest. It is only necessary that we draw attention to +the temporary removal of the Abbess with her nuns to Paris in the +year 1635, and to the settlement in the valley, during their +absence from it, of the band of Solitaries whose piety and +genius, no less than the heroic devotion of the sisterhood, have +shed such a glory around it. It was the spiritual influence +of St Cyran which overflowed in this direction. The +religious genius of this remarkable man, of whom we shall speak +more particularly in the next chapter, laid its spell upon the +social life around him, and brought to his feet some of the most +able and distinguished young men of the time. The elder +brother of Angélique and Agnès Arnauld, known as M. +d’Andilly, was amongst his devoted friends; and it was +through him that St Cyran first became connected with Port +Royal. D’Andilly was married, and a courtier—a +busy man in the political <!-- page 86--><a +name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 86</span>circles of +his day; but he had long bowed before the force of St +Cyran’s religious convictions, and finally he too abandoned +the world, and sought the retirement of Port Royal, whither three +of his nephews had preceded him; and a younger and yet more +distinguished brother, the namesake of his father, soon followed +him. It was D’Andilly who said of St Cyran, “I +was under such obligations to him that I loved him more than +life.” On the other hand, St Cyran said of him, +“He has not the virtue of a saint or an anchorite, but I +know no man of his condition who is so solidly +virtuous.”</p> +<p>The brotherhood of Port Royal had its beginning in 1637 with +the conversion of two of the nephews of D’Andilly and the +Mère Angélique, children of Arnauld’s eldest +daughter, who had married unhappily and been soon separated from +her husband. These grandsons of Arnauld are known as M. le +Maitre and M. de Sercourt, the former of whom, like his +ancestors, had greatly distinguished himself at the bar. +The latter was no less distinguished as a soldier. In the +midst of worldly success, they forsook everything and gave +themselves to a life of religious retirement, in which they were +by-and-by joined by a younger and still more remarkable brother, +known as M. de Saci, trained for the Church, and already +mentioned in connection with Pascal’s conversion. He +became Pascal’s spiritual director, and held with him the +famous conversation on Epictetus and Montaigne. To the same +group of men belonged Singlin, of whom we have heard so much in +former pages, and Lancelot and Fontaine; above all, Antoine +Arnauld, the youngest of the large Arnauld family, and the most +indefatigable of them all. Singlin was a favourite of St +<!-- page 87--><a name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +87</span>Cyran, and his successor in the office of spiritual +director to the monastery, as De Saci was again the successor of +Singlin in the same capacity. He was a man of less ability +and knowledge than many of the others, the son of a wine +merchant, who did not begin his religious studies till a +comparatively late period, but of a very direct and simple +character, and well skilled in the mysteries of the conscience, +which made him a spiritual power in the community. He was +withal of singular humility, and would fain have retired from the +office of Confessor when St Cyran was set at liberty in 1643 +after his long imprisonment; but neither then nor afterwards, on +his illustrious friend’s death, was he allowed to do +so. St Cyran warned him that he could not fly from the +duties of such a position without incurring the guilt of +disobedience. De Saci seems to have been especially +remarkable for his quiet self-possession and cautious insight +into character. His brother, Le Maitre, brings out in a +curious manner the contrast between his own impetuous character +and the leisurely efficiency of De Saci’s temper. As +they sat at their evening meal—“a very modest +collation”—</p> +<blockquote><p>“He had hardly begun his supper when mine +was already half digested. . . . Of quick and warm +disposition, I had seen the end of my portion almost as soon as +the beginning; it rapidly disappeared; and as I was thinking of +rising from the table, I saw my brother De Saci, with his usual +coolness and gravity, take a little piece of apple, peel it +quietly, cut it leisurely, and eat it slowly. Then, after +having finished, he rose almost as light as he had sat down, +leaving untouched nearly all his very moderate portion. He +went away as if he were quite satisfied, and even appeared to +grow fat upon fasts.” <a name="citation87"></a><a +href="#footnote87" class="citation">[87]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p><!-- page 88--><a name="page88"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +88</span>Claude Lancelot was the schoolmaster of the community, +and represents to us perhaps more fully than any other name its +famous system of education. Fontaine was one of its chief +memoir writers, from whom we derive so much of our knowledge of +the society; while the younger Arnauld, of whom we shall +afterwards speak, Nicole, and the subject of our present sketch, +represent its philosophical and literary activity.</p> +<p>Such was the company to which Pascal joined himself in +1655. They had been settled in divers places,—at +first, in 1637, when they were still only a few disciples +gathered around St Cyran, in the immediate neighbourhood of Port +Royal de Paris; and then, when driven from this after their great +head’s imprisonment, for a short time at a place called +Ferté Milon; and then, finally, in 1639, at Port Royal des +Champs. Here they made a great change for the better by +their assiduous industry. They drained the marshy valley, +cleared it of its overgrowth of brushwood, and converted it into +a comparatively smiling and salubrious abode. On the return +of the sisterhood from Port Royal de Paris in 1648, the nuns +found the place improved beyond their expectations. The +conventual buildings had been repaired, and the church kept in +good preservation. The bells of the church tower pealed a +welcome; a large concourse of the neighbouring poor assembled in +the courtyard to greet them; while the Solitaries—one of +their number, a priest, bearing a cross—waited at the +church door to enter with them, and swell with their voices the +Te Deum with which they celebrated their return. After this +they parted, a few of the brotherhood repairing to a house which +had been taken for them in Paris, <!-- page 89--><a +name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 89</span>but others +retiring to the well-known farm on the hill known as Les +Granges. There was, of course, the strictest seclusion +maintained in the nunnery, as before, and the inmates of Les +Granges were wellnigh as completely severed from it as the +brethren who retired to Paris.</p> +<p>The mode of life of the Solitaries was simple in the highest +degree. They wore no distinctive dress. Their wants +were supplied by the barest necessaries in the shape of lodging +and furniture. From early morning, three A.M., to night, +they were occupied in works of piety, charity, or industry. +They met in the chapel after their private devotions to say +matins and lauds, a service which occupied about an hour and a +half, after which they kissed the earth in token of a common +lowliness, and sought each his own room for a time. The +round of devotion thus commenced was continued with a steady +uniformity,—Prime at half-past six; Tierces at nine, and +after this a daily Mass; Sexte at eleven; Nones at two; Vespers +at four; and Compline closing the series at a quarter-past seven. +<a name="citation89"></a><a href="#footnote89" +class="citation">[89]</a> The Gospel and Epistles were read +daily; and sometimes during or after dinner the Lives of the +Saints. They dined together; and a walk thereafter formed +the sole recreation of the day. Two hours in the morning, +and two in the afternoon, were devoted to work in the fields or +in the garden by those who were able for such tasks. +Confession and communion were frequent, but no uniform rule was +enforced. In this, as in fasting and austerities generally, +each recluse was left to his own free will; and, as will be seen +in Pascal’s case, <!-- page 90--><a name="page90"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 90</span>there was no need to stimulate the +morbid desire for bodily mortification.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>It was in the last month of 1654 that Pascal’s final +conversion and adhesion to Port Royal took place. His mind +for some time before had been greatly agitated, as already +explained—filled with disgust of the world and all its +enjoyments. Then had come the accident at the Bridge of +Neuilly, and about the same time, or a little later, a remarkable +vision or ecstasy which he has himself described, and which has +given rise to a good deal of useless speculation. During +life he never spoke of this matter, unless it may have been to +his confessor; <a name="citation90"></a><a href="#footnote90" +class="citation">[90]</a> but after his death two copies of a +brief writing were found upon him,—the one written on +parchment enclosing the other written on paper, and carefully +stitched into the clothes that he had worn day by day. It +is beyond question that Pascal must have been deeply touched by +the event, whatever may have been its precise nature, the +memorial of which he had thus preserved. The footnote shows +the writing in the original, as printed by M. Faugère: +there are some variations in the copies, but it seems most +correctly given as below. It may be translated as +follows:—</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p style="text-align: center">The year of grace 1654.<br /> +Monday 23d November, day of St Clement, pope and martyr, and +others in the martyrology.<br /> +Vigil of St Chrysogone, martyr and others.<br /> +From about half-past ten o’clock in the evening till about +half-past twelve.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page 91--><a +name="page91"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 91</span>Fire.<br /> +God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob,<br /> +Not of philosophers and of savants.<br /> +Certitude. Certitude. Sentiment. Joy. +Peace.<br /> +God of Jesus Christ<br /> +My God and your God.<br /> +Thy God will be my God—<br /> +Oblivion of the world and of all save God.<br /> +He is found only by the ways taught in the Gospel.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Grandeur of the human soul.<br /> +Just Father, the world hath not known Thee, but I have known +Thee.<br /> +Joy, joy, joy, tears of joy.<br /> +I have separated myself from Him—<br /> +They have forsaken Me, the fountain of living water.<br /> +My God, will you forsake me?—</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Oh, may I not be separated from Him +eternally!<br /> +This is life eternal, that they know Thee the only true God,<br +/> +and Him whom Thou hast sent, J.-C.<br /> +Jesus Christ—<br /> +Jesus Christ—<br /> +I have separated myself from Him; I have fled, renounced, +crucified Him.<br /> +Oh that I may never be separated from Him!<br /> +He is only held fast by the ways taught in the Gospel.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Renunciation total and sweet,<br /> +etc. <a name="citation91"></a><a href="#footnote91" +class="citation">[91]</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p><!-- page 92--><a name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +92</span>It is difficult to make much of this document. Are +we to suppose that Pascal, on the 23d of November 1654, thought +he saw a vision, revealing to him the truth of Christianity, and +the vanity of philosophy and the world? Even if Pascal did +this, our estimate of the matter could hardly be much +affected. But there is no evidence that he himself attached +a supernatural character to the incident. He felt, no +doubt, that a real revelation had come to him, that his mind had +been lifted in spiritual ecstasy <!-- page 93--><a +name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 93</span>away from the +love of all that for a time had hid from him the presence of God +and of a higher world. The moment of this blessed +experience had been sacred to him. He had tried to trace it +in these broken characters, and in seasons of doubt or depression +he may have sought to awaken a new fervour of faith and love by +their contemplation. This seems all the natural meaning of +the incident; but, as some have endeavoured to attach to it a +supernatural importance, so others, in whom the idea not only of +the supernatural but of the spiritual only excites contempt, have +tried to give to it a purely superstitious character. It +was Condorcet who first applied to the paper the epithet of +Pascal’s “Amulette;” and Lélut has +adopted the epithet, and written a volume more or less relating +to it. He supposes the vision to have occurred to Pascal on +the evening of the day when the event at Neuilly had upset his +nervous system—always easily disturbed—and brought +before him a frightful picture of his alienation from God, and +the piety of his early manhood. Facts mingled with the +dreams of his excited imagination. He saw the horses +plunging over the precipice, and an abyss seemed to open beside +him—the abyss of eternity; when, lo! from the depths of the +abyss there appeared a globe of fire (<i>un globe de feu</i>) +encircled with the Cross; and the irresistible impulse was +stirred in him to throw aside the world for ever, and embrace +God,—“Not the God of philosophers or of +savants,” but “the God of Abraham, of Isaac, of +Jacob—the God of Jesus Christ,” from whom he had been +severed, but from whom he felt he never more would be severed; +abiding in Him in “sweet and total renunciation” of +all else. The idea, of course, is that <!-- page 94--><a +name="page94"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +94</span>Pascal’s dream or vision was the result of +physical derangement; and it may be safely granted that if the +reality at all corresponded to Lélut’s imaginary +picture, this is its natural explanation. The story of the +“vision” and the “abyss” are thus made, +not without a certain appearance of probability, to fit into one +another, and both into the accident at Neuilly; and a certain +congruity of external and internal alarm is hence given to the +great crisis of Pascal’s life. Unhappily, however, +there is a lack of evidence regarding the accident itself, <a +name="citation94"></a><a href="#footnote94" +class="citation">[94]</a> and, still more, the accompanying story +of the abyss seen by Pascal at his side, which must make the +reader cautious who has no theory to support. Voltaire, in +his usual manner, made the most of Pascal’s supposed +delusions. “In the last years of his life,” he +said, “Pascal believed that he had seen an abyss <i>by the +side of his chair</i>,—need we on that account have the +same fancy? I, too, see an abyss, but it is in the very +things which he believed that he had explained.” He +quotes also the authority of Leibnitz for the statement that +Pascal’s melancholy had led his intellect astray—a +result, he adds, not at all wonderful in the case of a man of +such delicate temperament and gloomy imagination. But +Voltaire was not precise here, as in other matters about +Pascal. He understood him too little to be a good judge of +his mental peculiarities. All that Leibnitz really said +was, that Pascal, “in <!-- page 95--><a +name="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 95</span>wishing to +fathom the depths of religion, had become scrupulous even to +folly.” <a name="citation95"></a><a href="#footnote95" +class="citation">[95]</a></p> +<p>Whatever explanation we may give of the supposed incidents +attending Pascal’s conversion, there never was a more +absurd fancy than that Pascal’s mind suffered any eclipse +in the great change that came to him. He may have been +credulous, he may have been superstitious. The miracle of +the Holy Thorn may be an evidence of the one, and the unnatural +asceticism of his later years a proof of the other. But to +speak of the author of the ‘Provincial Letters,’ of +the problems on the Cycloid, and finally of the +‘Pensées,’ as if his intellect had suffered +from his conversion, is to use words without meaning. All +his noblest writings were the product of his religious +experience, and he never soared so high in intellectual and +literary achievement as when moving on the wings of spiritual +indignation or of spiritual aspiration.</p> +<p>The whole interest of Pascal’s life from this period is +concentrated in his writings—first the +‘Provincials,’ and then the +‘Pensées,’ to which we devote separate +chapters. There was only the interval of a year between his +conversion and the commencement of his great controversy, and +little is known of how he passed his time during this +interval. He seems to have remained chiefly at Port Royal +under the guidance of M. de Saci, and to have felt an unwonted +measure of happiness in his triumph over the world and in the +possession of his own quiet thoughts. We have seen how he +spoke of being treated “like a prince,” and even his +health seemed to improve, notwithstanding the regularity and +severity of <!-- page 96--><a name="page96"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 96</span>his religious devotions. He +communicated his feelings of elation to his sister, who replied +(19th January 1655) that she was delighted to find him “gay +in his solitude,” as she never was at his happiness in the +world. “Notwithstanding,” she adds, “I do +not know how M. de Saci adapts himself to so light-hearted a +penitent, who professes to find compensation for the vain joys +and amusements of the world in joys somewhat more reasonable, and +<i>jeux d’esprit</i> more allowable, instead of expiating +them by perpetual tears.”</p> +<p>How long Pascal’s pious elation continued is not said, +nor have we any further details of his religious life at Port +Royal. He never absolutely took up his abode there as one +of the Solitaries, and could therefore say in his sixteenth +Provincial Letter, without more than an innocent equivocation, +that he “did not belong to Port Royal.” He was +still found there, however, in the beginning of the following +year (1655), when the affair of M. Arnauld and the Sorbonne was +approaching its crisis, and the idea of his famous letters was +started in a meeting, to be afterwards mentioned, between him and +Arnauld and Nicole. After this, during the publication of +the ‘Letters,’ Pascal seems chiefly to have resided +in Paris, probably with a view to the greater facilities he +enjoyed there in prosecuting his assaults upon the Jesuits, which +continued till the spring of 1657. During the following +year he was busy with the great idea of a work in defence of +religion, suggested partly by his own intellectual activity, but +partly also by a special incident at Port Royal which made a +great impression upon him.</p> +<p>This was the famous “miracle” of the Holy +Thorn. Madame Périer’s daughter, Marguerite +Périer—the same <!-- page 97--><a +name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 97</span>to whom we +are indebted for interesting memorials of her uncle’s +life—had become, with her sister, a pupil at Port +Royal. She suffered from an apparently incurable disease of +the eye, <i>fistula lachrymalis</i>. On a sudden she was +reported to be entirely cured, and the cure was attributed to the +touch of a relic which had been brought to the abbey by a +priest,—a supposed thorn from the crown of Christ. It +is remarkable that the Mère Angélique was somewhat +slow of belief as to the “miracle,” and that she +marvelled the world should make so much of it. But it +secured the credence of Pascal, and became a great fact in the +history of Port Royal, staying for a time the hand of +persecution, and pointing, as its friends believed, to the +visible interposition of heaven. How could the accusations +against Port Royal be true, seeing what God Himself had done on +its behalf? “This place, which men say is the +devil’s temple, God makes His house. Men declare that +its children must be taken out of it, and God heals them +there. They are threatened with all the furies; God loads +them with His favours.” This was Pascal’s own +language on the subject, <a name="citation97"></a><a +href="#footnote97" class="citation">[97]</a> and there can be no +doubt that the supposed miracle deeply affected him. He was +“sensibly touched,” it is said, “by such a +grace, regarding it as virtually done to himself, seeing it was +done to one so near to him in kindred, and who was his spiritual +daughter in baptism.” He was penetrated by a great +joy, and much occupied by the thought of what had happened, and +the general subject of miracles. There was in this manner +awakened in him “the extreme desire of employing himself on +a work in refutation of the principles and false <!-- page +98--><a name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +98</span>reasonings of the atheists.” “He had +studied them,” his sister continues, “with great +care, and applied his whole mind to search out the means of +convincing them. His last year of work was entirely +occupied in collecting divers thoughts on this +subject.”</p> +<p>Unhappily, in the course of 1658 Pascal’s old illness +returned with redoubled severity, and the last four years of his +life became in consequence years of great languor and +interruption of his projected work. The practice of +continuous composition failed him. Hitherto he had been +wont to develop his thoughts completely,—to write them out, +as it were, mentally before committing them to paper; but now he +began the habit of transferring his ideas rapidly, and sometimes +imperfectly, to manuscript, as they arose in his mind. In +many cases, if not in all, these first sketches remained as +originally made, without any revision or further reconstruction; +and from the mass of papers accumulated in this manner during +these years the ‘Pensées’ were +formed—the story of whose publication will be afterwards +told. Strangely, it was in this very year, during a fit of +severe toothache, apparently connected with his general illness, +that Pascal began his wonderful series of problems on the +cycloid, showing how fresh and unimpaired his scientific genius +remained under all the changes of his health and of his main +intellectual interests.</p> +<p>The last years of Pascal’s life, in their deep +suffering, and in their many traits of pious resignation and +self-denial, have been fully sketched by Madame +Périer. We do not think it necessary to repeat the +sketch here, touching and beautiful as in some respects it +is. It is impossible to read her simple and earnest +narrative <!-- page 99--><a name="page99"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 99</span>without emotion, and yet the emotion +is apt to evaporate in translation. It is impossible, also, +to avoid the feeling that, with all the tenderness and humility +of Pascal’s later years, there mingle a strange pride in +his very austerities, and something of the nature of religious +mania, which, beautiful as may be the forms it sometimes takes, +is yet in its spirit, and in not a few of its excesses, +essentially unlovely. Pascal’s care of the poor, his +love of them—“to serve the poor in a spirit of +poverty” was what appeared to him “most agreeable to +God”—his wish to die among them, to be carried to the +Hospital for Incurables, and breathe his last there; the story of +his rescue of the poor girl who asked alms from him on the +streets; his unparalleled patience, and even gladness, in +suffering, so that he seemed to welcome it and bind it about him +as a garment; his wonderful humility and yet his noble courage at +the last in the matter of the Formulary,—all this goes to +the heart of the reader. It must be a cold heart that is +not moved by the picture of a great soul striving “to +renounce all pleasure and all superfluities,”—to copy +literally, like St Francis, the portrait of his Master. But +here, as everywhere, the human copy falls infinitely short of the +divine Original. There is the loveliness of a true human +life beneath all the picture of suffering presented to us in the +Gospels. All the hues of natural feeling have gone out of +the last years of Pascal. He not only bore +suffering—he preferred it; and he boldly justified his +preference. “Sickness,” he said, “is the +natural state of the Christian; it puts us in the condition in +which we always ought to be.” In this spirit he +strove to deaden any sensation of pleasure in his food, in the +attentions of his relatives and <!-- page 100--><a +name="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 100</span>friends, +even in his studies. He could not bear to see his sister +caressing her children; there seemed to him harm in even saying +that a woman was beautiful; the married state was a “kind +of homicide or rather Deicide.” He thought it wrong +that any one should find pleasure in attachment to him, for he +“was not the final object of any being, and had not +wherewith to satisfy any.” So jealous was he of any +surprise of pleasure, of any thought of vanity or complacency in +himself and his work, that he wore a girdle of iron next his +skin, the sharp points of which he pressed closely when he +thought himself in any danger, especially in such moments of +intercourse with the world as he still sometimes allowed +himself.</p> +<p>Such details are neither interesting in themselves nor do they +present Pascal in his highest character. One cannot help +feeling that, touching as Madame Périer’s narrative +is, there must have been, even in the Pascal of later years, more +than she has drawn for us. One glimpse we get, but not in +her pages, of a more natural temper, when he withstood his +Jansenist friends in the matter of subscribing the Formulary +demanded from the Port Royalists. He had himself previously +been willing to subscribe, with certain restrictions, when his +sister Jacqueline alone stood out in her resistance to what she +deemed a treasonable betrayal of the cause. She signed at +last, but against her conscience, and, so to speak, with her +blood. She died immediately afterwards, the first victim of +the signature, as she has been called, and bequeathing a letter +to her fellow-sufferers on the subject. Whether inspired by +her words or not, Pascal took a firm stand against any further +concessions, and in a famous <!-- page 101--><a +name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 101</span>interview +with Arnauld, Nicole, and Sainte-Marthe, he argued the point with +such strength and vehemence that he fell fainting to the ground. +<a name="citation101"></a><a href="#footnote101" +class="citation">[101]</a></p> +<p>This was in the end of 1661, when his sufferings were fast +drawing to a close. In the previous summer, when at +Clermont, he had written to Fermat that he was so weak as to be +“unable to walk without a stick, or to hold himself on +horseback.” His weakness had grown apace, and in June +1662 he was seized with his last illness. It was necessary +that his sister should nurse him, and this could only be done by +his removal to her house, for he had given up his own house to a +poor family, one of whose children had taken smallpox, and he +would allow neither the child to be removed nor his sister to run +the risk of carrying infection to her children. He left his +own home for hers, therefore, on the 27th of June, and never +returned. Three days after his removal he was seized with a +violent colic, which deprived him of all sleep. His +physicians at first were not alarmed, as his pulse continued +good, but gradually pain and sleeplessness wore him out. He +confessed both to the <i>curé</i> of the parish and to his +friend Sainte-Marthe, one of the directors of the +community. He wished, as we said, to die in the Hospital +for Incurables amongst the poor, but in his state of weakness it +was impossible to gratify this wish. After the +administration of the last sacrament, which he received with +tearful emotion, he thanked the <i>curé</i>, and +exclaimed, “May God never leave me!” These were +his last words. Convulsions having returned, he expired on +the 19th of August 1662.</p> +<p><!-- page 102--><a name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +102</span>It is unnecessary to attempt any estimate of +Pascal’s character. The reader must draw it for +himself in the light of these pages. With all enthusiasm +for its grandeur and unity of purpose, and that moral and +intellectual elevation which it everywhere shows, it may be found +lacking in breadth and variety, and that familiar interest and +charm which strangely often come from the contemplation of human +weakness rather than of human strength. There is certainly +less to love in him than to admire—less to call forth +delight than respect. The play of natural individuality is +hidden behind lines of lofty distance, and latterly of Jansenist +severity. A proud, ascetic, and worn figure seems to rise +before us; but strangely Pascal’s portrait, as known to us, +conveys no idea of asceticism. The face is full-fleshed and +expressive, like the face of a child, with large ripe lips and +open eyes of wonder,—a portrait which suggests the +companion of the Duc de Roannez in his years of pleasure, rather +than the weary and pain-worn penitent of Port Royal. <a +name="citation102"></a><a href="#footnote102" +class="citation">[102]</a></p> +<h2><!-- page 103--><a name="page103"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 103</span>CHAPTER V.<br /> +THE ‘PROVINCIAL LETTERS.’</h2> +<p>Pascal’s ‘Letters to a Provincial’ represent +a great controversy, the nature of which it is necessary to +explain. They are, at the same time, the most perfect +expression of his literary genius, and touch theological +questions with such an inimitable grace and felicity of +expression as to have awakened a universal intellectual +interest. It may be hard to justify this interest by any +analysis of their contents, or by such extracts as can be given +from them. No English can convey the exquisite fitness of +French polemical expression in its highest form, its mingled +force and delicacy, its keenness and yet its lightness. We +shall, however, endeavour to give as clearly as we can an +account, first, of the controversy out of which the +‘Letters’ originated, and then of the consummate +skill with which Pascal conducted it.</p> +<p>M. de St Cyran is not merely one of the chief figures +connected with Port Royal: he was the fountain-head of its +special power. To his influence and teaching it was +indebted for its chief glory and its most terrible +sufferings. Jean Baptist du Vergier d’Hauranne, +better known by the above official designation, was of noble <!-- +page 104--><a name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +104</span>family. He was born at Bayonne in 1581, and early +devoted himself to the study of theology at Louvain and +Paris. While a student, he is supposed to have first made +the acquaintance of Cornelius Jansen, and to have begun with him +that co-operation which was destined to bear such remarkable +fruits. Their intimacy was one based on spiritual affinity +and a common enthusiasm. For Jansen was the son of poor +peasants, without even a surname. His father is only known +as Jan Ottosen, or John the son of Otto; as the son in his turn +was Cornelius Jansen, or the son of John. Jansen was the +younger of the two friends, having been born in 1585; but he +appears to have exercised a powerful influence over his older +companion. The great bond of their union and common +enthusiasm was the study of St Augustine. For the purpose +of pursuing this study undisturbed, they retired to the seaside +near Bayonne, and here they established themselves in scholastic +seclusion. Smitten with the desire of attaining theological +truth, they found the Schoolmen constantly appealing to St +Augustine as their authority, and they consequently resolved to +examine this authority for themselves, and so ascend to what they +believed to be the source of their favourite science. Had +they taken only one step further, they would have approached +Protestantism; and as it was, the favourite charge which the +Jesuits afterwards made against them was, that they were +Calvinists in disguise. Unconsciously they were so, +notwithstanding all their disclaimers. The Jesuits were +unscrupulous; but their penetration here, as in many other cases, +was not at fault. The doctrines so warmly espoused by +Jansen and St Cyran were the old doctrines of <i>grace</i>, which +Calvin <!-- page 105--><a name="page105"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 105</span>and they alike borrowed from St +Augustine, and he in his turn found in the Epistles of St Paul. +<a name="citation105"></a><a href="#footnote105" +class="citation">[105]</a> And the controversy which their +labours were destined once more to awaken in the bosom of the +Catholic Church was nothing else than the old dispute which, +since the days of Augustine and Pelagius, had more than once +already agitated it.</p> +<p>The fellow-students continued their studies near Bayonne for +five years. So closely did they work, that Jansen is said +to have spent days and nights in the same chair, snatching only +brief intervals of rest. A game at battledore and +shuttlecock occasionally relieved their vigils; but no serious +employment divided their attention with the arduous task upon +which they had entered, of mastering and digesting the principles +of the Augustinian theology. The Bishop of Bayonne offered +preferment to D’Hauranne, and there were projects of +settling Jansen also at the head of a college; but it was not +till some time afterwards that either of them entered upon +official labours. They were left during those years to the +uninterrupted studies which subsequently resulted in the great +work of Jansen. The system of theological thought +associated with his name was then definitely matured.</p> +<p>It is beyond our province to sketch the career of these +fellow-students, one of whom became the chief spiritual director +of Port Royal, and the other its great theological <!-- page +106--><a name="page106"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +106</span>centre. The abbey of St Cyran was the only +preferment which D’Hauranne ever accepted, notwithstanding +Richelieu’s repeated offers of a bishopric. He was +content to exercise from his monastic seclusion an influence far +more powerful than that of any bishop of his day. And so +penetrating and dangerous did this influence seem to the great +Minister whose efforts to bind him to his side had so often +failed, that he at length shut him up in Vincennes (May +1638). Here he remained in close confinement for more than +four years; but even from this gloomy retreat the impression of +his great personal power was spread abroad, and felt in many +quarters as steadily as before. He survived his release +only a few months. His long imprisonment had broken down +his health; and although the enthusiasm of his spirit was strong +as ever, his weakened body was no longer able to answer to its +demands. He could hardly “hold himself up,” and +a slight attack of illness carried him off.</p> +<p>St Cyran’s chief strength seems to have lain in a +concentrated enthusiasm and quiet strength of will which enabled +him to hold his own against all opposition, and to subdue other +minds larger than his own to his purposes. When the Prince +de Condé interceded for him after his arrest, +Richelieu’s reply was: “Do you know of whom you are +speaking? That man is more dangerous than six armies. +<i>I</i> say that attrition with confession is necessary: +<i>he</i> believes that contrition is necessary. <a +name="citation106"></a><a href="#footnote106" +class="citation">[106]</a> And in the affair of +Monsieur’s marriage all France has given way to me, and he +alone has the hardihood to <!-- page 107--><a +name="page107"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 107</span>oppose +it.” Against all enticements and assaults alike he +set a proud and firm faith in his own mission—a patience +sublime in its calmness, and in the unwavering consciousness of +Divine right on his side. “I am careful to complain +of nothing,” he said in his imprisonment. “I am +ready to remain here a hundred years; to die here, if God +will. I am ready for whatever He designs—for action +or for suffering.” The same faith and quiet assurance +gave him his marvellous influence over others, and that +fascination which made him a power in the cultivated society of +Paris. All the Arnauld family more or less owned his +influence; and it was his teaching mainly that peopled Port Royal +with the Solitaries who have made it so illustrious.</p> +<p>The life and work of Jansen seem at first far removed from +Port Royal. He returned to Louvain after his sojourn at +Bayonne, and became a professor of theology in its famous +university, on whose behalf he was employed in several political +negotiations with the Spanish Court. Finally he was +appointed Bishop of Ypres, in which capacity he is chiefly known +in the ecclesiastical world. His fame, however, rests not +on any political or ecclesiastical labours, but on the results +flowing from his original studies at Bayonne. He never +forgot his devotion to St Augustine. He is said to have +read the whole of his writings ten times, and the treatises +against the Pelagians not less than thirty times. The fruit +of all this studious devotion was his work known briefly as the +‘Augustinus,’ <a name="citation107"></a><a +href="#footnote107" class="citation">[107]</a> published two +years after <!-- page 108--><a name="page108"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 108</span>his death (in 1640). Nothing +could have seemed more innocent or laudable than the attempt by a +bishop of the Church to set forth the doctrine of St +Augustine. The book professed to have been undertaken in a +humble spirit.</p> +<blockquote><p>“I have avoided error where I could,” +says the author; “for the cases in which I could not, I +implore the reader’s pardon. . . . Let the knowledge +of my sincerity make amends for the simplicity of my error. +I know that if I have erred, it is not in the assertion of +Catholic truth, but in the statement of the opinion of St +Augustine; for I have not laid down what is true or false, what +is to be held or rejected according to the faith of the Catholic +Church, but only what Augustine taught and declared was to be +held.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>A task of such a character, carried out in such a spirit, +might have seemed a harmless one.</p> +<p>But the Jesuits had long marked both St Cyran and Jansen as +theological foes, opposed to their special doctrines. They +endeavoured therefore, first of all, to prevent the publication +of Jansen’s work; and failing in this, they directed all +their efforts to procure a condemnation of the book from the +Court of Rome. “Never,” it has been said, +“did any book receive a more stormy welcome. Within a +few weeks of its appearance the University, the Jesuits, the +executors of Jansen, the printer of the ‘Augustinus,’ +the Spanish governor of the Low Countries, and the Papal Nuncio +were engaged in a warfare of pamphlets, treatises, pasquinades, +pleadings, synods, audiences, which it would be impossible to set +forth in historical sequence.” <a name="citation108"></a><a +href="#footnote108" class="citation">[108]</a> In the midst +of all this, Jansen’s old fellow-student received the book, +in the <!-- page 109--><a name="page109"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 109</span>preparation of which he also had had +some share, in his prison at Vincennes, as if an echo of his own +thoughts. “It would last as long as the +Church,” he said. “After St Paul and St +Augustine, no one had written concerning grace like +Jansen.”</p> +<p>The Jesuits were resolved in their hostility. They knew +that the book, while assuming a historical form, and professing +in the main to represent the doctrine of Augustine as directed +against the errorists of his own time, had a side reference to +the “opinions of certain modern authors,” understood +to be well-known theologians of their own school. This was +in fact acknowledged in an appendix. Unable any longer to +wreak their vengeance on the author himself, they were resolved +to put his work under ban; and accordingly, a Bull was obtained +from Rome in the summer of 1642, condemning Jansen by name, and +declaring that the ‘Augustinus’ contained “many +propositions already condemned” by the Holy See. It +was doubted whether the Pope, Urban VIII., designed to go the +length announced in the bull, and the terms of the condemnation +were rumoured to have been inserted by a Papal officer in the +interests of the Jesuits. The Universities of Louvain and +Paris therefore did not take any steps to carry out the +condemnation. They remained spectators of the controversy +which raged around them, in which the Archbishop of Paris on one +side, and the youngest of the Arnauld family on the other, were +conspicuous.</p> +<p>Antoine Arnauld was the last of the twenty children born to +the great parliamentary orator and Catherine Marion his wife, of +whom we have already spoken. His nephews, Le Maitre and De +Saci, were so near his own <!-- page 110--><a +name="page110"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 110</span>age, that +they were accustomed to call him familiarly <i>le petit +oncle</i>. Early consecrated to theological studies by the +influence of St Cyran and his mother, he espoused zealously the +Augustinian doctrines. A splendid prospect seemed opening +before him, had he chosen to enter the Church and pursue an +ecclesiastical career in the ordinary manner. But while +thirsting for theological distinction, he had scruples about his +vocation to the holy office. He overcame his scruples so +far as to become a priest; but not only would he not accept the +benefices placed within his reach by powerful friends—he +insisted on resigning such as he held. He even disposed of +his patrimony for the benefit of Port Royal, preserving only as +much as would provide him with the bare necessaries of +life. He became a doctor in 1641, and already, in 1643, the +interest of the whole theological world was aroused by his +treatise, ‘Of Frequent Communion.’</p> +<p>The aim of this treatise, as of all Arnauld’s writings, +was anti-Jesuitical. He set forth, backed by the authority +of “Fathers, Popes, and Councils,” the necessity of +spiritual preparation for the Holy Communion, in opposition to +the formula which had been boldly advanced by more than one +Jesuit teacher, that “the more we are devoid of divine +grace, the more ought we to seek Jesus Christ in the +Eucharist.” The commotion made by the publication +shows how grave was the need for it. On the one hand it was +warmly welcomed, many pious bishops and doctors testifying +approbation of its contents; on the other hand it was violently +assailed. The Jesuit pulpits resounded with abuse of it and +of its author. All Paris was disturbed by the noise which +it made. “There <!-- page 111--><a +name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 111</span>must be a +snake in the grass somewhere,” it was wittily remarked, +“for the Jesuits were never so excited when only the glory +of God was at stake.” The learned Petavius, and even +the Prince de Condé, did not disdain to mingle in the +combat. For a time Arnauld seemed to triumph, but finally +the influence of Rome was brought against him, and he was glad to +take refuge in concealment—the first of the many +concealments into which his incessant polemical activity drove +him in the course of his long life. He never abated his +opposition. He had no sooner retired from one controversy, +than he reappeared in some other. His energy knew no +bounds, his love of fighting no pause. When in his old age +his friend and fellow-student Nicole advised him to rest. +“Rest!” he said; “have I not all eternity to +rest in?”</p> +<p>It was a matter of course that when the great Jansenist +controversy began, Arnauld should be found in the van of +it. ‘An Apology for Jansen’ appeared from his +pen in 1644, and a second ‘Apology’ in the following +year. It seemed for a time as if the Jesuits would be +foiled in their efforts to secure the effectual condemnation of +the book. But at length one of their number, Nicolas +Cornet, Syndic of the Faculty of Theology at Paris, collected its +essential heresy in the shape of seven propositions. These +propositions were afterwards reduced to five; and at length, on +the 31st of May 1653, a formal condemnation of them was obtained +from the Court of Rome. There was no longer any doubt as to +the attitude of the Holy See. All the propositions were +declared to be distinctly heretical, and the first and the fifth, +moreover, to be blasphemous and impious. This result was +not reached without much debate and <!-- page 112--><a +name="page112"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +112</span>delay. No sooner had Cornet’s propositions +appeared than Arnauld assailed them and all who supported +them. A congregation of four cardinals and eleven +theological assessors had been appointed to examine them in the +end of the year 1651. They had taken, therefore, a year and +a half to their work, and the sentence at length issued was +intended to bring the long warfare to a close. In point of +fact it kindled a fresh fire, and opened, if not a larger, yet a +more vital controversy. Arnauld retired willingly before a +new writer summoned by himself into the field, and girded with +his blessing as he went forth to the encounter.</p> +<p>The five propositions, which were professed to be extracted +from Jansen’s book, and as such were condemned by the Papal +Bull of 31st May 1653, are so intimately connected with the +‘Provincial Letters’ as to claim a place in our +pages. They are as follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p>I. There are divine commandments which good +men, although willing, are unable to obey; and the grace by which +these commandments are possible is also wanting in them.</p> +<p>II. No person, in the state of fallen nature, is able to +resist internal grace.</p> +<p>III. In order to render human actions meritorious or +otherwise, liberty from necessity is not required, but only +liberty from constraint.</p> +<p>IV. The semi-Pelagians, while admitting the necessity of +prevenient grace—or grace preceding all actions—were +heretics, inasmuch as they said that this grace was such as man +could, according to his will, either resist or obey.</p> +<p>V. The semi-Pelagians also erred in saying that Christ +died or shed His blood for all men universally.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><!-- page 113--><a name="page113"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +113</span>It would be needless for us to touch these +propositions, even by way of explanation. We have +endeavoured to state them from the original Latin as clearly as +we can, so that they may bear some definite meaning even to the +non-theological reader. But their very statement bristles +with controversy, and the half-extinct meanings of old questions +that go to the root of Christian thought lie hid in their +language. All the propositions were condemned without +reserve, but two points were left unsettled. It was not +asserted that the propositions were to be found in the +‘Augustinus,’ and that they were condemned in the +sense in which Jansen held them, and in no other. The +course of the controversy and the fate of Port Royal in the end +mainly turned upon these points.</p> +<p>The Papal Bull condemning the five propositions was speedily +published in France, and the triumph of the Jesuits was +undisguised. A great blow had been struck, and for a time +all seemed inclined to bow before it. Political reasons +combined with others to give effect to the Papal verdict. +Cardinal Mazarin, in possession of the favour of the +Queen-mother, had imprisoned his enemy, Cardinal de Retz, who had +so long waged in the intrigues and wars of the Fronde a restless +conflict with them; and as the latter in his prosperity had shown +a certain favour for Port Royal, this was enough to stimulate, on +the part of Mazarin, an interest on behalf of the Jesuits. +Yet he was reluctant to move actively against the +Jansenists. M. d’Andilly still had his ear in matters +of State, and by his intervention and that of others the project +of an armistice was for a time entertained. Port Royal was +to keep silence, if its enemies did not push their triumph to an +<!-- page 114--><a name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +114</span>extremity. Even the indefatigable Arnauld seems +to have promised to be quiet. But the Jesuits were too +conscious of their power, and too relentless in their hostility, +to pause in their determination to crush their opponents. +They had recourse both to gibes and to active persecution. +They printed an almanac with the figure of Jansen as +frontispiece, flying in the guise of a winged devil before the +Pope and the king into the arms of the Huguenots. They +assailed the Duc de Liancourt, and refused him absolution in his +own parish church, for no other reason but that he was on +friendly relations with Port Royal, and would not withdraw, at +their demand, his granddaughter from its protection. This +affair, which appears to have been deliberately planned, caused a +great sensation, and became, strangely, the indirect occasion of +the ‘Provincial Letters.’</p> +<p>Indignant at such an outrage, Arnauld was no longer to be +restrained. He rushed before the public with a pamphlet +under the title, “Letter of a Doctor of the Sorbonne to a +Person of Condition, concerning an event which has recently +happened in a parish of Paris to a Nobleman of the Court, +February 24, 1655.” The Letter opened with an +expression of his wish to dispute no more; but as Sainte-Beuve +hints, the avowed desire of peace plunged him all the more into +war. His letter called forth numerous replies. He +responded by a “Second Letter,” in the shape of a +volume. In this letter his enemies seemed to see his fate +written. They extracted from it two propositions which in +their view clearly contravened the Papal verdict—namely, +1st, that he had expressed doubts whether the five propositions +condemned as heretical were in Jansen’s book at all; and +2d, that <!-- page 115--><a name="page115"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 115</span>he had really reproduced the first +of the five condemned propositions in one of his own statements, +that according to both the Gospel and the Fathers, St Peter, a +just man, was wanting in grace when he fell. This was +nothing but undisguised Jansenism, and his accusers in the +Sorbonne rallied for his overthrow. A meeting was summoned +to consider the letter, and to judge it and the author.</p> +<p>The details of the proceedings would weary the reader. +It is sufficient to say that, notwithstanding the concessions +wrung from Arnauld, some of which were humiliating enough, he was +condemned on the first point (Jan. 1656)—the great question +of “fait,” in contrast to the question of +“droit,” involved in the second statement as to grace +being wanting to St Peter in his fall. His condemnation, +however, was mainly secured by the introduction of a number of +monks who swelled the majority against him, and the legality of +whose vote was challenged by many members. But, as Pascal +afterwards said, “it was easier to find monks than +arguments.” The second and doctrinal point received +professedly more deliberate discussion. The sittings +regarding it were protracted till the close of the month, the +29th of January. But the result was really +forestalled. The restriction laid on free debate was such +as to lead no fewer than sixty doctors to withdraw, protesting to +Parliament against the interference with their rights. +Their protest, however, came to nothing. Sentence was +finally passed, against not only Arnauld, but all who adhered to +him or espoused his opinions. The victim, with his usual +adroitness, escaped his pursuers, and went once more into a +concealment which all their vigilance could not penetrate. +Two days after the censure he wrote to one of his nieces, +“I am <!-- page 116--><a name="page116"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 116</span>in very close hiding, and by +God’s grace without trouble or disquiet.” +“Would you like me to tell you where M. Arnauld is +hidden?” inquired a lady of the <i>gendarmes</i> who were +searching her house for traces of him. “He is safely +hidden here,” pointing to her heart; “arrest him if +you can.”</p> +<p>It was in the interval betwixt the first and second judgment +of the Sorbonne that the first of the ‘Provincial +Letters’ appeared. The story is, <a +name="citation116a"></a><a href="#footnote116a" +class="citation">[116a]</a> that during the course of the process +Arnauld, Nicole, and Pascal, along with M. Vitart, the steward of +the Duc de Luynes (to whom Arnauld’s second Letter had been +addressed), and other friends, were met in secrecy at Port Royal +des Champs. Their conversation turned to the pending case, +and the misapprehensions and prejudices which prevailed in the +public mind regarding it. It was felt that some effort +should be made to clear away these prejudices, and to diffuse +right information in a popular form. Arnauld, ever ready +with his pen, was prepared himself to undertake this task; and in +a few days afterwards he read to his friends a long and serious +paper in vindication of his position. But his friends were +not moved as he expected. His pen, powerful in its own +sphere, was not fitted to tell upon the popular mind; and his +audience were too honest to conceal their disappointment. +Arnauld, in his turn, frankly acknowledged the truth forced upon +him. “I see you do not find my paper what you wished, +and I believe you are right,” he said; and then, turning +all at once to Pascal, he said, “But you, who are young, +who are clever, <a name="citation116b"></a><a +href="#footnote116b" class="citation">[116b]</a> you ought to do +something.” <!-- page 117--><a +name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 117</span>The effect +was not lost upon Pascal. He divined with his genuine +literary instinct exactly what was required in the circumstances, +although distrusting his power to produce it. He promised, +however, to make an attempt, which his friends might polish and +put in shape as they thought fit. Next day he produced +“A Letter written to a Provincial by one of his +friends.” The Letter was unanimously pronounced +exactly what was required, and ordered to be printed. It +appeared on the 23d January 1656; and a second followed six days +later.</p> +<p>Nothing could have been happier or more admirably suited for +their purpose than those Letters. They took up the subject +for the first time in a light intelligible to all. They +brought to play upon it not only a penetrating and rapid +intelligence, but a brightness of wit, and a dramatic +creativeness, which made the Sorbonne and its parties, the +Jansenists and their friends, alive before the reader. +Never was the triumph of genius over mere learned labour more +complete. Arnauld, as he listened to them, must have felt +his own thoughts spring up before him into a living shape, hardly +less startling to himself than to his opponents.</p> +<p>Addressing his friend in the country, the author expresses his +surprise at what he has come to learn of the character of the +disputes dividing the Sorbonne:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“We have been imposed upon,” he +says. “It was only yesterday that I was +undeceived. Until then I had thought that the disputes of +the Sorbonne were really important, and deeply affected the +interests of religion. The frequent convocation of an +assembly so illustrious as that of the Theological Faculty of +Paris, attended by so many extraordinary and unprecedented +circumstances, induced such high expectations that one could not +help believing the business to <!-- page 118--><a +name="page118"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 118</span>be of +extraordinary importance. You will be much surprised, +however, when you learn from this letter the upshot of the grand +demonstration. I can explain the matter in a few words, +having made myself perfectly master of it.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Two questions, he says, were under +examination—“the one a question of fact, the other a +question of right.”</p> +<p>He explains the question of fact as consisting in the point +whether M. Arnauld was guilty of temerity in expressing his +doubts as to the propositions being in Jansen’s book after +the bishops had declared that they were. No fewer than +seventy-one doctors undertook his defence, maintaining that all +that could reasonably be asked of him was to say that “he +had not been able to find them, but that if they were in the +book, he condemned them there.”</p> +<blockquote><p>“Some,” he continues, “even went +a step farther, and protested that, after all the search they had +made in the book, they had never stumbled upon these +propositions, and that they had, on the contrary, found +sentiments entirely at variance with them. They then +earnestly begged that if any doctor present had discovered them, +he would have the goodness to point them out; adding that what +was so easy could not be reasonably refused, as that would be the +surest way to silence all objectors, M. Arnauld included. +But this they have always refused to do. So much for the +one side.</p> +<p>“On the other side are eighty secular doctors, and some +forty mendicant friars, who have condemned M. Arnauld’s +proposition, without choosing to examine whether he has spoken +truly or falsely—who, in fact, have declared that they have +nothing to do with the veracity of his proposition, but simply +with its temerity. Besides these were fifteen who were not +in favour of the censure, and who are called Neutrals.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Having thus stated the question of fact, and the <!-- page +119--><a name="page119"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +119</span>balance of parties regarding it, Pascal dismisses it at +once, important as it proved in the after-history of Port +Royal.</p> +<blockquote><p>“As to the issue of the question of fact, I +own I give myself very little concern. It does not affect +my conscience in the least whether M. Arnauld is presumptuous or +the reverse; and should I be tempted from curiosity to ascertain +whether these propositions are contained in Jansen, his book is +neither so very scarce nor so very large but that I can read it +all through for my own enlightenment without consulting the +Sorbonne at all.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Only, while himself hitherto inclined to believe with common +report that the propositions were in Jansen, he was now almost +led to doubt that they were so from the absurd refusal to point +them out. In this respect he fears the censure will do more +harm than good. “For, in truth, people have become +sceptical of late, and will not believe things till they see +them.”</p> +<p>But the point being in itself so frivolous, he hastens to take +up the question of right, as touching the faith. And here +the play of the dialogue begins:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“You and I supposed that the question here +was one involving the deepest principles of grace, as to whether +it is given to all men, or whether it is efficacious of +itself. But truly we were deceived. You must know I +have become a great theologian in a short time, and you will see +the proofs of it.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>He describes, then, how he had made a visit to a doctor of the +Sorbonne, who was his neighbour, and one of the most zealous +opponents of the Jansenists, to inquire into the +controversy. He asked him why the question as to grace +should not be set at rest by a formal decision <!-- page 120--><a +name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 120</span>that +“grace is really given to all”? But he received +a rude rebuff, and was told that this was not the point. +“There were those on his side who held that grace is not +given to all, and even the examiners themselves had declared, in +a full meeting of the Sorbonne, that this opinion was +problematical.” This was, in fact, his own view; and +he confirmed it by what he said was a celebrated passage of St +Augustine, “We know that grace is not given to all +men.” He was equally unfortunate in his second +inquiry. His neighbour, opposed as he was to Jansenism, +would not condemn the doctrine of efficacious grace. The +doctrine, on the contrary, was quite orthodox, was held by the +Jesuits, and had even been defended by himself in his thesis at +the Sorbonne. The inquirer is confounded, and ventures to +ask then in what M. Arnauld’s heresy consisted? +“In this,” replies his friend, “that he does +not acknowledge that the just have the power of obeying the +commandments of God in the way in which we understand +it.” Having got to what he supposes the “heart +of the affair,” he posts off to a Jansenist acquaintance, +“a very decent man notwithstanding.” But if he +was puzzled before, he is still more puzzled when he hears the +worthy Jansenist declare that it is no heresy to hold that +“all the just have always the power of obeying the Divine +commandments.” Confounded by such a reply, he felt +that he had been too plain-spoken with both Jansenist and +Molinist. <a name="citation120"></a><a href="#footnote120" +class="citation">[120]</a> There must be something more in +this dispute than he understood; and if not, there was no reason +why there <!-- page 121--><a name="page121"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 121</span>should not now be peace in the +Church and the Sorbonne. He returned to the Molinist, whom +he had first visited, with this assurance. The Jansenists, +he said, were quite at one with the Jesuits as to the power of +the righteous always to obey the commandments of God.</p> +<blockquote><p>“All very well,” said he, “but +you must be a theologian to see the gist of the matter. The +difference between us is so subtle that we can hardly make it out +ourselves. It is quite beyond <i>your</i> +understanding. Suffice it for you to know that the +Jansenists will indeed say that the just have always the power of +obeying the commandments—this is not the point in dispute; +but they will not say that this power is <i>proximate</i>. +<i>That</i> is the point.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Mystified more than ever by this new and unknown expression, +of which he could get no explanation, the inquirer now returned +to his Jansenist friend to demand of him if he admitted it. +“Do you admit the <i>proximate power</i>?” was all +that he could say to him. He had charged his memory +carefully with the expression, all the more that he did not +understand it. The Jansenist smiled, and said coldly, +“Tell me in what sense you use the expression, and I will +tell you what I believe about it.” But this was just +what he could not do. So he gave the haphazard answer, that +he used it “in the sense of the Molinists.” +“Which of the Molinists?” was the rejoinder. +“All of them together, as being one body, and having one +and the same mind,” was the second answer at random: upon +which he is assured he is very ill informed; that the Molinists, +instead of being at one, are hopelessly divided, but that being +united in the design to ruin M. Arnauld, they have all agreed to +use <!-- page 122--><a name="page122"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 122</span>this term, understanding it in +different senses, and so by an apparent agreement to form a +compact body in order to crush him more confidently.</p> +<p>The ingenuous inquirer hesitates to believe in such +wickedness. He professes himself to be animated by a pure +desire of understanding the subject, and asks still that the +mysterious word <i>proximate</i> may be explained to him. +His Jansenist friend professes a willingness to enlighten him, +but says that his explanation would be liable to suspicion. +He must have recourse to those who invented the expression, and +is referred to a M. le Moine, on the one hand, as representing +the Molinists or Jesuits; and a Father Nicolai as representing +the Dominicans or “New Thomists.” Both of these +were real characters: the former a doctor of the Sorbonne, and a +violent anti-Jansenist, who had written on the subject of grace; +the latter a Dominican, who is said, however, by Nicole to have +abandoned the principles of his order and embraced +Pelagianism. The bewildered seeker after theological +knowledge resorts, not to these worthies themselves, with whom he +professes to have no acquaintance, but to certain disciples of +theirs. In this manner he gets a definition of +“proximate power,” from which it is apparent that, +while the Jesuits and Dominicans are only agreed in using the +same expression—the meanings they put into it being +entirely different—the Jansenists and Dominicans agree in +substance, while only differing in the use of words. The +passage in which the result of his successive interviews is +described is one of the happiest in the letter. On +receiving from the Dominicans, whom he terms +“Jacobins,” from their association with the Rue de St +Jacques, where the first Dominican convent in Paris <!-- page +123--><a name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +123</span>was erected, an explanation of the doctrine of grace, +he exclaims:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Capital! So, according to you, the +Jansenists are Catholics, and M. le Moine a heretic; for the +Jansenists say that the just have the power of praying, but that +further efficacious grace is necessary—and this is what you +also approve. M. le Moine, however, says that the just may +pray without efficacious grace—and this you condemn. +‘Ay,’ they replied, ‘but M. le Moine calls this +power <i>proximate power</i>.’ ‘But what is +this, my father,’ I exclaimed in turn, ‘but to play +with words—to say that you agree as to the common terms you +employ, while your sense is quite different?’ To this +they made no reply; and at this very point the disciple of M. le +Moine, with whom I had consulted, arrived by what seemed to me a +lucky and extraordinary conjuncture. But I afterwards found +that these meetings were not uncommon; that, in fact, they were +continually mixing the one with the other. I addressed +myself immediately to M. le Moine’s disciple: ‘I know +one,’ said I, ‘who maintains that the just have +always the power of praying to God, but that nevertheless they +never pray without an efficacious grace which determines them, +and which is not always given by God to all the just. Is +such a one a heretic?’ ‘Wait,’ said my +doctor; ‘you take me by surprise. Come, gently. +<i>Distinguo</i>. If he calls this power <i>proximate +power</i>, he is a Thomist, and yet a Catholic; if not, he is a +Jansenist, and therefore a heretic.’ ‘He calls +it,’ said I, ‘neither the one nor the +other.’ ‘He is a heretic then,’ said he; +‘ask these good fathers.’ It was unnecessary to +appeal to them, for already they had assented by a nod of their +heads. But I insisted. ‘He refuses to use the +word <i>proximate</i>, because no one can explain it to +him.’ Whereupon one of the fathers was about to give +his definition of the term, when he was interrupted by M. le +Moine’s disciple. ‘What!’ said he; +‘do you wish to recommence our quarrels? Have we not +agreed never to attempt an explanation of this word +<i>proximate</i>, but to use it on both sides without saying what +it means?’ And to this the Jacobin assented. +<!-- page 124--><a name="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +124</span>I saw at once into their plot, and rising to quit them, +I said, ‘Of a truth, my fathers, this is nothing, I fear, +but a quibble; and whatever may come of your meetings, I venture +to predict that when the censure is passed, peace will not be +restored. . . Surely it is unworthy, both of the Sorbonne +and of theology, to make use of equivocal and captious terms +without giving any explanation of them. Tell me, I entreat +you, for the last time, fathers, what I must believe in order to +be a Catholic?’ ‘You must say,’ they all +cried at once, ‘that all the just have the <i>proximate +power</i>.’ . . . ‘What necessity can there +be,’ I argued, ‘for using a word which has neither +authority nor definite meaning?’ ‘You are an +opinionative fellow,’ they replied. ‘You shall +use the word, or you are a heretic, and M. Arnauld also; for we +are the majority, and if necessary we can bring the Cordeliers +into the field and carry the day.’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The second Letter, entitled “Of Sufficient Grace,” +is exactly in the same vein:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Just as I had sealed my last letter,” +the writer opens, “I received a visit from our old friend, +M. N---, a most fortunate circumstance for the gratification of +my curiosity. For he is thoroughly informed in the +questions of the day, and up to all the secrets of the Jesuits, +at whose houses, including those of the leading men, he is a +constant visitor.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Using his friend conveniently as an informant, Pascal proceeds +to explain to the Provincial the question of sufficient grace as +betwixt the Jesuits, Jansenists, and Dominicans. The +amusement of the Letter consists in the manner in which he brings +out, as before, the substantial identity in opinion of the +Dominicans and Jansenists, notwithstanding the junction of the +former with the Jesuits to oppress the latter. The Jesuits +hold the old Pelagian doctrine that grace is given to all, +dependent for its efficacy upon the free will of the +recipient. This <!-- page 125--><a name="page125"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 125</span>is with them <i>sufficient +grace</i>. The Jansenists follow St Augustine, and will not +allow any grace to be <i>sufficient</i> which is not also +efficacious. What is the view of the Dominican?—</p> +<blockquote><p>“It is rather an odd one,” he says; +“for while they agree with the Jesuits in allowing a +<i>sufficient grace</i> given to all men, they nevertheless hold +that with this grace alone men cannot act, but require further +from God an <i>efficacious grace</i> which determines their will +to action, and which is not given to all.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In short, <i>this grace</i> is <i>sufficient</i> without being +so. It bears the same name as the grace of the Jesuits, but +in reality the Dominican doctrine is that of the Jansenists, that +men require efficacious grace in order to pious action. +What is the meaning of all this jumble of opinion? Simply, +that the Dominicans are too powerful to be quarrelled with. +The Jesuits are content that they should so far use the same +language with them.</p> +<blockquote><p>“They do not insist upon their denying the +necessity of efficacious grace. This would be to press them +too far. People should not tyrannise over their friends; +and the Jesuits have really gained enough. But the world is +content with words; and so the name of sufficient grace being +received on all sides, though in different senses, none except +the most subtle theologians can dream that the expression does +not signify the same to the Jacobins and the Jesuits; and the +result will show that the latter are not the greatest +dupes.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This conclusion becomes the subject of conversational by-play, +similar to that of the first Letter:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“I went straight,” adds the writer, +“to the Jacobins, at whose door I found a good friend of +mine, a great Jansenist—for you must know I have friends +amongst all parties—<!-- page 126--><a +name="page126"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 126</span>who was +inquiring for another father, different from the one I +wanted. But I persuaded him to accompany me, and asked for +one of my New Thomist friends. He was delighted to see me +again. ‘Ah, well,’ I said to him, ‘it +seems it is not enough that all men have a <i>proximate power</i> +by which they can never act with effect; they must also have a +<i>sufficient grace</i>, with which they can act just as +little. Is not this the opinion of your +school?’ ‘Yes,’ said the good father, +‘and I have this very morning been maintaining this in the +Sorbonne. I spoke my full half-hour; and had it not been +for the sand-glass, I bade fair to reverse the unlucky proverb +which circulates in Paris—“He votes with his cap +[merely by nodding his assent, without speaking] like a monk of +the Sorbonne.”’ ‘And what about your +half-hour and your sand-glass?’ said I. ‘Do +they shape your discourses by a certain measure?’ +‘Yes,’ said he, ‘for some days +past.’ ‘And do they oblige you to speak half an +hour?’ ‘No, we may speak as shortly as we +like.’ ‘But not,’ I said, ‘as much +as you like. What a capital rule for the +ignorant—what an excellent excuse for those who have +nothing worth saying! But to come to the point, my +father—this grace which is given to all, is it +sufficient?’ ‘Yes,’ said he. +‘And yet it has no effect without <i>efficacious</i> +grace?’ ‘Quite true,’ said he. +‘And all men have the <i>sufficient</i>, but not all the +<i>efficacious</i>?’ ‘Exactly so.’ +‘That is to say,’ I urged, ‘that all have +enough grace, and yet not enough—that there is a grace +which is <i>sufficient</i>, and yet does not +<i>suffice</i>. In good sooth, my father, that is subtle +doctrine. Have you forgotten, in quitting the world, what +the word <i>sufficient</i> means? Do you not remember that +it includes everything necessary for acting? . . . How, +then, do you leave it to be said, that all men have +<i>sufficient</i> grace for acting, while you confess that +another grace is absolutely necessary for acting, and that all +have not this? . . . Is it a matter of indifference to say +that with sufficient grace we can really act?’ +‘Indifference!’ said he; ‘why, it is +<i>heresy</i>—formal <i>heresy</i>. The necessity of +efficacious grace for effective action is a point of +<i>faith</i>. It is heresy to deny this.’ +‘Where, then, are we now? and what side must I take? +If I deny <!-- page 127--><a name="page127"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 127</span>sufficient grace, I am a +Jansenist. If I admit it, like the Jesuits, so that +efficacious grace is no longer necessary, I shall be a heretic, +you say. And if I admit it, as you do, so that efficacious +grace is still necessary, why I sin against common-sense, I am a +blockhead, say the Jesuits. What can I do in this dilemma, +of being a blockhead, a heretic, or a Jansenist? To what a +strait are we come, if it is only Jansenists, after all, who are +at variance with neither faith nor reason, and who preserve +themselves both from folly and error?’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The Dominican, in short, is made to appear very ridiculous in +his union with the Jesuits. Clearly he fights on their side +against the Jansenists at the expense of his honesty and +consistency. He is confounded by a parable representing the +absurdity of his position.</p> +<blockquote><p>“‘It is all very easy to talk,’ +was all he could say in reply. ‘You are an +independent and private person; I am a monk, and in a +community. Do you not understand the difference? We +depend upon superiors; they depend upon others. They have +promised our votes, and what would you have me to +do?’ We understood his allusion, and remembered how a +brother monk had been banished to Abbeville for a similar +cause.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The writer is disposed to pity the monk as he relates with a +melancholy tone how the Dominicans, who had from the time of St +Thomas been such ardent defenders of the doctrine of grace, had +been entrapped into making common cause with the Jesuits. +The latter, availing themselves of the confusion and ignorance +introduced by the Reformation, had disseminated their principles +with great rapidity, and become masters of the popular belief; +while the poor Dominicans found themselves in the predicament of +either being denounced as Calvinists, and treated as the +Jansenists then were, or of falling into <!-- page 128--><a +name="page128"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 128</span>the use of +a common language with the Jesuits. What other course was +open to them in such a case than that of saving the truth at the +expense of their own credit! and while admitting the name of +sufficient grace, denying, after all, that it was +sufficient! That was the real history of the business.</p> +<p>This pitiful story of the New Thomist awakens a respondent +pity in the writer. But his Jansenist companion is roused +to indignant remonstrance:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Do not flatter yourselves,” he +exclaims, “that you have saved the truth. If it had +no other protector than you, it would have perished in such +feeble hands. You have received into the Church the name of +its enemy, and this is to receive the enemy itself. Names +are inseparable from things. If the term <i>sufficient</i> +grace be once admitted, you may talk finely about only +understanding thereby a grace insufficient; but this will be of +no avail. Your explanation will be held as odious in the +world, where men speak far more sincerely of less important +things. The Jesuits will triumph. It will be their +sufficient grace, and not yours—which is only a +name—which will be accepted. It will be theirs, which +is the reverse of yours, that will become an article of +faith.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In vain the New Thomist proclaims his readiness to suffer +martyrdom rather than allow this, and to maintain the great +doctrine of St Thomas to the death. His allusion to the +importance of the doctrine only calls forth more severely the +indignant eloquence of the Jansenist, and he brings the Letter to +a close in a passage which forestalls the graver and loftier tone +of the later Letters.</p> +<blockquote><p>“Confess, my father, that your order has +received an honour which it ill discharges. It abandons +that grace which has been intrusted to it, and which has never +been <!-- page 129--><a name="page129"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 129</span>abandoned since the creation of the +world. That victorious grace which was expected by +patriarchs, predicted by prophets, introduced by Jesus Christ, +preached by St Paul, explained by St Augustine, the greatest of +the Fathers, embraced by his followers, confirmed by St Bernard, +the last of the Fathers, sustained by St Thomas, the Angel of the +Schools, transmitted by him to your order, maintained by so many +of your fathers, and so gloriously defended by your monks under +Popes Clement and Paul—that efficacious grace which was +left in your hands as a sacred deposit, that it might always, in +a sacred and enduring order, find preachers to proclaim it to the +world till the end of time—finds itself deserted for +interests utterly unworthy. It is time that other hands +should arm themselves in its quarrel. It is time that God +should raise up intrepid disciples to the Doctor of Grace, who, +strangers to the entanglements of the world, should serve God for +the sake of God. Grace may no longer count the Dominicans +among her defenders; but she will never want defenders, for she +creates them for herself by her own almighty strength. She +demands pure and disengaged hearts, nay, she herself purifies and +delivers them from worldly interests inconsistent with the truths +of the Gospel. Consider well, my father, and take heed lest +God remove the candle-stick from its place, and leave you in +darkness and dishonour to punish the coldness which you have +shown in a cause so important to His Church.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The first two Letters are closely connected. They deal +with the special question between Arnauld and the Sorbonne. +A short “Reply from the Provincial” is interposed +between the second and third. This reply may be supposed to +be a part of the device employed by Pascal to arouse public +attention and circulate the Letters. The friend in the +country tells how they have excited universal interest. +Everybody has seen them, heard them, and believed them. +They are valued not merely <!-- page 130--><a +name="page130"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 130</span>by +theologians, but men of the world, and ladies, have found them +intelligible and delightful reading. This is no exaggerated +picture of the sensation which they produced. Their success +was prodigious, and increased with every successive Letter. +In an atmosphere charged with the theological spirit, yet wearied +with the dulness of theological controversy, Pascal’s mode +of treating the subject came as a breath of new life. Here +was one who was evidently no mere theologian—who knew human +nature as well as Divine truth. His clear and penetrating +intellect saw at once the many aspects of the dispute lying deep +in the human interests and passions engaged; and as he touched +these one by one, and by subtle and vivid strokes brought them to +the front—as Molinist, New Thomist, and Jansenist appeared +upon the scene, and showed in their natural characters what play +of dramatic life was moving under all the dulness of the debate +at the Sorbonne—there was a universal outcry of +welcome. The Letters passed from hand to hand. The +post-office reaped a harvest of profit; copies went through the +whole kingdom.</p> +<blockquote><p>“‘You can have no idea how much I am +obliged to you for the Letter you sent me,’ writes a friend +to a lady; ‘it is so very ingenious, and so nicely +written. It narrates without narrating. It clears up +the most intricate matters possible; its raillery is exquisite; +it enlightens those who know little of the subject, and imparts +double delight to those who understand it. It is an +admirable apology; and if they would take it, a delicate and +innocent censure. In short, the Letter displays so much +art, so much spirit, and so much judgment, that I burn with +curiosity to know who wrote it.’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This is the report of the Provincial; and if it is Pascal +himself who speaks, he had little idea that his own <!-- page +131--><a name="page131"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +131</span><i>badinage</i> would be echoed by grave critics, in +after-years, as not in excess of the actual merit of his +productions. “The best comedies of +Molière,” says Voltaire, “have not more wit +than the first Provincial Letters.” It must be +admitted that the brightness of the wit is somewhat dimmed after +the lapse of two centuries. Even the genius of Pascal fails +to lighten all the tortuous absurdities of controversies so +purely verbal, and there is an occasional baldness in the clever +device of pitting Molinist, New Thomist, and Jansenist against +one another. The professed artlessness of the speeches is +at times too apparent. But nothing, upon the whole, can be +finer than the address with which this is done; the changes of +scene and the turns of the dialogue are managed with admirable +felicity; there is an exquisite fitness and Socratic point in all +the evolutions of the argument, which we feel even now when we +see so clearly behind the scenes, and know that Molinist and New +Thomist must have had a good deal more to say for +themselves. We have only to imagine the atmosphere of the +Sorbonne, or the wider social atmosphere throughout France in the +seventeenth century, impregnated to its core by a subtle +controversial ecclesiasticism, to realise the impression made by +“the Small Letters.” The question everywhere +was, Who could have written them? There seems at first to +have been no suspicion of Pascal. He had previously only +been known as a scientific writer; and the secret was, of course, +jealously guarded. Although planned at Port Royal des +Champs, he did not remain there while engaged in their +composition. He repaired, as we have already said, to +Paris, and after a while took up his abode “at a little inn +opposite to <!-- page 132--><a name="page132"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 132</span>the Jesuit College of Clermont, just +behind the Sorbonne.” Here he lodged with his +brother-in-law, M. Périer, who had lately come to Paris; +and here, too, the latter was visited by Père +Defrétat, a Jesuit and distant relative, who came to tell +him that the suspicions of the Society were beginning to point to +Pascal. All the while Pascal was busy in the room below; +and, “behind the closed curtains of the bed by the side of +which they were talking, a score of fresh impressions of the +seventh Letter were laid out to dry.” <a +name="citation132"></a><a href="#footnote132" +class="citation">[132]</a></p> +<p>Pascal rejoiced in his incognito. It was not till the +controversy had somewhat advanced that he assumed the pseudonym +Louis de Montalte. The third Letter he closed mysteriously +with the letters E. A. A. B. P. A. F. D. E. P., which have been +interpreted to mean “Et ancien ami Blaise Pascal, +Auvergnat, fils de Étienne Pascal.” There can +be no doubt that he took a distinct pleasure in the anonymous +wounds which he inflicted. He had a certain love of +controversy from the beginning, a feeling of self-assertion when +he took up a cause, and a personal ambition to triumph in it, +which carried him forward, and which come out with almost painful +vividness in the closing letters.</p> +<p>The rage of the Jesuits may be imagined. At first they +hardly knew whether to laugh with the world or to be +indignant. The first Letter was read in the dining-hall of +the Sorbonne itself. Some were amused, others greatly +provoked. But, as the Letters proceeded, there was no room +for any feeling but indignation. It was so difficult to set +forth any direct reply to productions mingling such a <!-- page +133--><a name="page133"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +133</span>subtle irony with grave attack. They could only +say of them, as they afterwards more formally did—<i>Les +menteurs immortelles</i>. Of the first Letters it is said +that 6000 copies were printed; but, as they were easily passed +from hand to hand, this gives no idea of the numbers who actually +read them. Their fame grew with each successive +issue. More than 10,000 copies were printed of the +seventeenth Letter; and editions of the earlier ones were so +frequently reprinted, that it can no longer be told which +belonged really to the first edition.</p> +<p>It is impossible, and would be useless, for us to attempt any +description of the whole series of Letters. We have thought +it right to dwell at some length on the first two, because they +enter so directly into the controversy betwixt Pascal’s +friends and the Sorbonne, and because they are really, in some +respects, the cleverest, if not the most valuable. The +third Letter, on the “Censure of M. Arnauld,” and +again, the three concluding Letters, <a name="citation133"></a><a +href="#footnote133" class="citation">[133]</a> are closely +connected with the first two. Their object, in one form or +another, is the defence of the Jansenist doctrine, and of the +Port Royalists, as its supporters. The intervening twelve +Letters stand quite by themselves. They open up the whole +subject of the moral theology of the Jesuits, and constitute the +most powerful assault probably ever directed against it. +The subject is one <!-- page 134--><a name="page134"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 134</span>which, in a volume like this, we can +only touch upon, and this more with the view of drawing out the +marked literary features of Pascal’s assault, than of +meddling with the merits of the controversy which he waged so +relentlessly. In the meantime, we must wind up, as briefly +as possible, the more personal aspects of the controversy.</p> +<p>Between the date of the second and the third Letter, the +process before the Sorbonne had been finished, and M. +Arnauld’s censure pronounced. The third Letter deals +with this censure. The writer represents the long +preparation for it, the manner in which the Jansenists had been +denounced as the vilest of heretics, “the cabals, factions, +errors, schisms, and outrages with which they have been so long +charged.” Who would not have thought, in such +circumstances, that the “blackest heresy imaginable” +would have come forth under the condemning touch of the +Sorbonne? All Christendom waited for the result. It +was true that M. Arnauld had backed up his opinions by the +clearest quotations from the Fathers, expressing apparently the +very things with which he had been charged. But points of +difference imperceptible to ordinary eyes would no doubt be made +clear under the penetration of so many learned doctors. +Thoughts of this kind kept everybody in a state of breathless +suspense waiting for the result. “But, alas! how has +the expectation been balked! Whether the Molinist doctors +have not deigned to lower themselves to the level of instructing +us, or for some other secret reason, they have done nothing else +than pronounce the following words: ‘This proposition is +rash, impious, blasphemous, deserving of anathema, and +heretical!’”</p> +<p><!-- page 135--><a name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +135</span>It was not to be wondered at, in the circumstances, +that people were in a bad humour, and were beginning to think +that after all there may have been no real heresy in M. +Arnauld’s proposition. A heresy which could not be +defined, except in general terms of abuse, seemed at the least +doubtful. The writer is puzzled, as usual, and has recourse +to “one of the most intelligent of the Sorbonnists” +who had been so far neutral in the discussion, and whom he asks +to point out the difference betwixt M. Arnauld and the +Fathers. The “intelligent” Sorbonnist is amused +at the <i>naïveté</i> of the inquiry. “Do +you fancy,” he says, “that if they could have found +any difference they would not have pointed it out?” +But why, then, pursues the ingenuous inquirer, should they in +such a case pass censure?—</p> +<blockquote><p>“‘How little you understand the +tactics of the Jesuits!’ is the answer. ‘How +few will ever look into the matter beyond the fact that M. +Arnauld is condemned! Let it be only cried in the streets, +“Here is the condemnation of M. Arnauld!” This +is enough to give the Jesuits a triumph with the unthinking +populace. This is the way in which they live and +prosper. Now it is by a catechism in which a child is made +to condemn their opponents; now by a procession, in which +Sufficient Grace leads Efficacious Grace in triumph; and +by-and-by by a comedy, in which the devils carry off Jansen; +sometimes by an almanac; and now by this censure.’ +The truth is, that it is M. Arnauld himself, and not merely his +opinions, that are obnoxious. Even M. le Moine himself +admitted ‘that the same proposition would have been +orthodox in the mouth of any other; it is only as coming from M. +Arnauld that the Sorbonne have condemned it.’ . . . +Here is a new species of heresy,” concludes the +writer. “It is not the sentiments of M. Arnauld that +are heretical, but only his person. It is a case of +personal heresy. <!-- page 136--><a +name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 136</span>He is not a +heretic for anything he has said or written, but simply because +he is M. Arnauld. This is all they can say against +him. Whatever he may do, unless he cease to exist he will +never be a good Catholic. The grace of St Augustine will +never be the true grace while he defends it. It would be +all right were he only to combat it. This would be a sure +stroke, and almost the only means of establishing it and +destroying Molinism. Such is the fatality of any opinions +which he embraces.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In the three concluding Letters, as we have said, Pascal +reverts to the special subject of Jansenism and Port Royal. +These Letters are considerably longer than the opening +ones. It is of the sixteenth, in fact, that he makes the +well-known remark, that “it was very long because he had no +time to make it shorter.” Upon the whole, also, these +Letters are less happy in style and manner. It is evident +that Pascal, if he gave blows which made his opponents and the +opponents of Port Royal wince, also received some bruises in +return. The shamelessness of the attacks made upon his +friends and himself, contemptible as they were in their nature, +left scars upon a mind and temper so sensitive and reserved as +his. The “insufferable audacity” with which +“holy nuns and their directors” had been charged with +disbelieving the mysteries of the faith was “a crime which +God alone was capable of punishing.” To bear such a +charge required a degree of humility equal to that of the nuns +themselves—to believe it, “a degree of wickedness +equal to that of their wretched defamers.” As for +himself, it seemed enough to say of him that he belonged to Port +Royal, as if it were only at Port Royal that there could be found +those capable of defending the purity of Christian +morality. He knew and honoured the work <!-- page 137--><a +name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 137</span>of the +pious recluses who had retired to that monastery, although +“he had never had the honour of belonging to +them.” And in the seventeenth Letter he +says:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“I have no more to say than that I am not a +member of that community, and to refer you to my letters, in +which I have declared that ‘I am a private +individual;’ and again in so many words that ‘I am +not of Port Royal.’ . . . You may touch Port Royal if +you choose, but you shall not touch me. You may turn people +out of the Sorbonne, but that will not turn me out of my +lodging.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>These statements, of course, are to be received as so far a +part of the disguise under which Pascal pursued his task. +It was true that he had no official connection with Port Royal, +that he was under no rule to live in its retirements, and that he +was only occasionally found there. He was singularly free, +“without engagements, entanglement, relationship, or +business of any kind.” All the same he was a Port +Royalist in sympathy and community of opinion. The +interests of Port Royal were his interests, and its friends his +friends. His own sister was one of its zealous +inmates. There is a certain force, therefore, in the taunt +that Pascal, in “unmasking the duplicity of the Jesuits, +did not hesitate to imitate it.” His statements are +not beyond the licence accorded to those who would drive an enemy +off the scent, and shelter themselves within an anonymity which +they have chosen to assume; but they are none the less artful and +misleading. They justify themselves as the fence of the +<i>littérateur</i>, hardly as the armour of the +moralist. But the truth is, that long before this Pascal +had warmed to his work as a controversialist. He was +determined to give no advantage, and to spare no weapons <!-- +page 138--><a name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +138</span>within the bounds of decency, that might make the +Jesuits feel the force of his assault. Their accusation of +heresy especially exasperated him.</p> +<blockquote><p>“When was I ever seen at Charenton?” +<a name="citation138"></a><a href="#footnote138" +class="citation">[138]</a> he says in the seventeenth Letter, +addressed to the Jesuit Father Annat. “When have I +failed in my presence at mass, or in my Christian duty to my +parish church? What act of union with heretics, or of +schism with the Church, can you lay to my charge? What +council have I contradicted? What Papal constitution have I +violated? You <i>must answer</i>, father; else—you +know what I mean.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The Jansenist doctrine of grace, as we have already explained, +approached indefinitely the doctrine of Calvin. Both were +derived from Augustine; and St Thomas, as his interpreter, handed +on to the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the precious +deposit. The line of thought was continuous, and it was not +easy to break it at Calvin, and isolate him as a heretic, while +holding to other teachers as Catholic and orthodox. This +was the dilemma of the New Thomists, so pithily expressed by one +of themselves in the second Letter. But it was also +Pascal’s own dilemma; and the consciousness which he and +his friends had of the nearness of the Jansenist doctrine to that +of Calvin, made them all the more sensitive under the charge of +heresy. The Jesuits had art enough to see the advantages +which came from this association. The Port Royalists and +Pascal failed in the magnanimity which clung to a truth no less +because it was identified with an abused name. They +insisted upon <!-- page 139--><a name="page139"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 139</span>distinguishing between the tenets of +Jansen and Calvinism. If what the Papal decree meant and +the Sorbonne meant in the condemnation of the Jansenist +proposition was that they condemned the doctrines of Calvin, then +they were all agreed.—Jesuits, Jansenists, and Port +Royalists.</p> +<blockquote><p>“Was that all you meant, father?” asks +Pascal in his concluding Letter. “Was it only the +error of Calvin that you were so anxious to get condemned under +the name of ‘the sense of Jansen’? Why did you +not tell us this sooner? you might have saved yourself a world of +trouble; for we were all ready without the aid of bulls or briefs +to join with you in condemning that error. . . . Now, when +you have come the length of declaring that the error which you +oppose is the heresy of Calvin, it must be apparent to every one +that they [the Port Royalists] are innocent of all error; for so +decidedly hostile are they to this, the only error with which you +charge them, that they protest by their discourses, by their +books, by every mode, in short, in which they can testify their +sentiments, that they condemn that heresy with their whole heart, +and in the same manner in which it has been condemned by the +Thomists, whom you acknowledge without scruple to be +Catholics.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The professed point of difference stated in the same +Letter—namely, that the Thomists and Sorbonnists (and of +course the Port Royalists with them) held that efficacious grace +is resistible, while Calvin held that it was +irresistible—may or may not hold in reference to special +expressions of Calvin. But there is nothing, upon the +whole, stronger in Calvin than there is in Augustine on the +subject of grace; and on the other hand, an “efficacious +grace,” which is “resistible”—which the +human heart can accept or repel <i>at will</i>—seems open +to all the ironical play which Pascal directs so skilfully in his +first <!-- page 140--><a name="page140"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 140</span>Letters against the Jesuit doctrine +of a <i>sufficient</i> grace which is not yet sufficient. +The truth is, that apart from verbal subtleties, which Pascal +could handle no less familiarly, only far more skilfully, than +his adversaries, there is no rational position intermediate +between the Pelagian doctrine (which is also substantially the +Aristotelian) of free will and moral habit, and the Augustinian +doctrine of Divine grace and spiritual inspiration. The +source of character is either from within the character itself, +which has power to choose good and to be good if it will, or it +is from a higher source—the grace of God, and the power of +a Divine ordination. These are the only real lines of +controversy. The Christian thinker may decline controversy +on such a subject altogether, acknowledging that the mystery of +character is in its roots beyond our ken,—that we know not, +and in the nature of the case cannot know, where the Human ends +and the Divine begins. In such a case there is no room for +argument. But we cannot with consistency step off one line +on to the other. In other words, we cannot logically abuse +Calvin while we hold with Augustine, or profess to revere St +Thomas while we abuse Jansen.</p> +<p>But it is more than time to turn from this side of the +‘Provincial Letters.’ This was the controversy +out of which they sprang—which mingles itself most with the +personality of Pascal—and hence it has claimed a somewhat +detailed treatment. The great subject to which the +intervening and chief portion of the Letters is directed is not, +indeed, more important in itself, but it is more diversified, and +more practically interesting. Here, however, Pascal was +more obviously performing a task than in the other Letters. +He was speaking less out <!-- page 141--><a +name="page141"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 141</span>of his +heart. Having grappled with the Jesuits, and noticed their +tactics in the affair of the Sorbonne, he is led to look into +their whole system. He takes up their books and studies +them, in part at least; while his friends Nicole and Arnauld also +study them for him. And the result is the remarkable and +memorable assault contained in his thirteen Letters—from +the fourth to the sixteenth—directed against all the main +principles of the Jesuit system.</p> +<p>It would lead us quite away from our purpose to enter into the +range of this great controversy, or to endeavour to estimate its +value, or the merits of the attack and defence on particular +points. The subject is one by itself, more or less entering +into the whole question of morals, and especially the immense +fabric of casuistry or moral theology built up by successive +teachers in the Jesuit schools. Trained, as he was, a +devout disciple of the Roman Church, enthusiastic on behalf of +its doctrines and preachers, Pascal had apparently no knowledge +of the details of Jesuit doctrine and morality before he began +his task of inquiry and assault. Austere and simple in his +own principles of virtue, direct and unbending in his modes of +action, he was evidently appalled by the study of the Jesuit +system, and the endless complexities of compromise and evasion +which it presented. In seizing, as he did everywhere, upon +the immoral aspects of the system, and touching them with the +most graphic colours of exposure, he cannot be said to be unfair; +for the materials with which he dealt were all abundant in their +writings. His quotations may be sometimes taken at random, +and may set forth, without any of the alleviating shades +surrounding them in their proper context, special <!-- page +142--><a name="page142"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +142</span>points as parts of a general sequence of thought. +They were, no doubt, often furnished to him by Nicole or Arnauld, +who hunted them through the immense volumes of casuistical +divinity in which they were contained. But there is no +reason to suppose that in any case he has been guilty of +misquotation, or that he has attributed sentiments to the Jesuit +doctors not to be found in them. This is very much his own +statement:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“I have been asked if I have myself read all +the books which I have quoted. I answer, No. If I had +done so, I must have passed a great part of my life in reading +very bad books; but I have read Escobar twice through, and I have +employed some of my friends in reading the others. But I +have not made use of a single passage without having myself read +it in the book from which it is cited, without having examined +the subject of which it treats, and without having read what went +before and followed, so that I might run no risk of quoting an +objection as an answer, which would have been blameworthy and +unfair.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>No doubt this is true. There is all, and more than all, +that Pascal quoted to be found in the Jesuit writings, and his +own language is not too strong in speaking of much that he quotes +as “abominable.” Notwithstanding, it may be +said that the effect of his representation is a certain +unfairness towards the Jesuits. He presses them at a cruel +advantage when he insists upon developing from his own point of +view, or still more from the mouth of some of their too simple +followers, all the practical consequences of their special +rules. The system of casuistry was one not solely of +Jesuitical invention. It was the necessary outgrowth of the +radical Roman principle of Confession. Nay, it flourished +to some extent within <!-- page 143--><a name="page143"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 143</span>the Protestant Church itself in the +seventeenth century, as the writings of two very different men, +Jeremy Taylor and Richard Baxter, show. Once admit the +principle of directing the conscience by external rather than +internal authority, and you lay a foundation upon which any +amount of folly, and even crime, may be built up. This was +the general principle of Jesuitism as a system of education; but +it came to it from the Church which Pascal, no less than the +Jesuits, revered. Nay, it was in its general character a +principle as characteristic of Port Royal as of Loyola and his +followers. There is the enormous difference, no doubt, that +the ethics of Port Royal were comparatively faithful to the +essential principles of morality which Nature and the Gospel +alike teach—that its practical excesses were quite in a +different direction from the laxity of the Jesuits. But two +things are to be remembered, not in favour of the Jesuits, but in +explanation of their excesses: 1st, that they aimed, as Pascal +himself points out, at governing the world, and not merely a +sect—that their whole idea of the Church in relation to the +world was different from that of the Port Royalists; and 2d, that +their system of morals not merely rested on a wrong and dangerous +principle (which Pascal’s no less did), but had been +endlessly developed in their schools by many inferior +hands. This was Pascal’s great weapon against them, +and so far it was quite a legitimate weapon, as he himself +claimed. As none of their books could appear without +sanction, the Order was more or less responsible for all the +frightful principles set forth in some of these books. All +the same, it is not to be presumed that such a system of moral, +or rather immoral, consequences was <!-- page 144--><a +name="page144"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +144</span>deliberately designed by the Society. Pascal +himself exempts them from such a charge. “Their +object,” he says, “is not the corruption of manners; +. . . but they believe it for the good of religion that they +should <i>govern all consciences</i>, and so they have +evangelical or severe maxims for managing some sorts of people, +while whole multitudes of lax casuists are provided for the +multitude that prefer laxity.” <a +name="citation144a"></a><a href="#footnote144a" +class="citation">[144a]</a> The Jesuit system of morality, +in short, was the growth of the Jesuit principle of +accommodation, added on to the Roman principle of external +authority. Looking at morality entirely from without, as an +artificial mode of regulating life and society for the supreme +good of the Church, the Jesuit casuists were driven, under the +necessities of such a system, from point to point, till all +essential moral distinction was lost in the mechanical +manipulations of their schools. Whatever happened, no man +or woman was to be lost to the Church; the complications of human +interest and passion were to be brought within its fold and +smoothed into some sort of decent seeming, rather than cast +beyond its pale and made the prey of its enemies. <a +name="citation144b"></a><a href="#footnote144b" +class="citation">[144b]</a> The task was a hopeless +one. In the pages of Pascal the Jesuits too obviously make +a deplorable business both of religion and morality. But +they were as much the victims as the authors of a system which +Rome had sanctioned, and which came directly from the claims +which it made to govern the world not merely by spiritual +suasion, but by external influence. Jesuitism may be bad, +and the Jesuit morality exposed by Pascal abominable, but the one +and the other are the <!-- page 145--><a name="page145"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 145</span>natural outgrowth of a Church which +had become a mechanism for the regulation of human conduct, +rather than a spiritual power addressing freely the human heart +and conscience.</p> +<p>Our space will not admit of an analysis of the thirteen +Letters dealing with the Jesuits, and we can hardly give any +quotations from them. Suffice it to say, that Pascal passes +in the fourth Letter to a direct assault upon the Society. +“Nothing can equal the Jesuits,” the Letter +begins. “I have seen Jacobins, doctors, and all sorts +of people; but such a visit as I have made today baffles +everything, and was necessary to complete my knowledge of the +world.” He then describes his visit to a very clever +Jesuit, accompanied by his trusty Jansenist friend, and gradually +unfolds from the mouth of the former the whole system of moral +theology which had grown up in the Jesuit schools,—their +notions of “actual grace,” or the necessity of a +special conscious knowledge that an act is evil, and ought to be +avoided, before we can be said to be guilty of sin in committing +the act; their famous doctrines of <i>probabilism</i> and of +<i>directing the intention</i>, and all the consequences +springing out of them. Nothing can be more ingenious than +the manner in which the Jesuit is led forward to unfold point +after point of his hateful system, as if it were one of the +greatest boons which had ever been invented for mankind, until +from concession to concession he is plunged into the most +horrible conclusions, and the Jansenist can stand the disclosures +no longer, but breaks forth in the end of the tenth Letter into a +powerful and eloquent denunciation of the doctrines to which he +has been listening.</p> +<p><!-- page 146--><a name="page146"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +146</span>Any lighter vein that may have lingered in the Letters +is abandoned from this point. Pascal ceases to address his +friend in the country; the playful interchange that sprang from +the idea of a third party, to whom Pascal was supposed to be +merely reporting what he had heard, occurs no more. He +turns to the Jesuit fathers directly, and addresses them, as if +unable any longer to restrain his indignation, commencing the +eleventh Letter with an admirable defence of his previous tone, +and of the extent to which he had used the weapon of ridicule in +assailing them, and passing on to reiterate his charges, and to +repel the calumnies with which they had assailed him and his Port +Royalist friends. The reader may weary, perhaps, for a +little, as he threads his way through the successive accusations, +and the monotonous train of evil principles which underlies them +all, more or less. He may wish that Pascal had gone to the +roots of the system more completely, and had laid bare its +germinal falsehood, instead of heaping detail upon detail, and +always adding a darker hue to the picture which he draws. +But any such mode of treatment would not half so well have served +his purpose. His audience were not prepared for any +philosophy of exposure, still less for any attack upon the +essential principles of the Church; he himself did not see how +the successive laxities which he fixes with his poignant satire, +or sets in the light of his withering scorn, spring from a +vicious conception of Christianity and of the office of the +Church. He does what he does, however, with exquisite +effect; and the Jesuit Order, many and powerful as have been its +opponents, never before nor since felt itself more keenly and +unanswerably assailed. Many of them were forced <!-- page +147--><a name="page147"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 147</span>to +laugh at the picture of their own follies, and the immoral +nonsense which distilled from the lips of Father Bauny and +others, in explanation or defence of their practices. +“Read that,” says the confidential Jesuit who +expounds to Pascal their system: “it is ‘The Summary +of Sins,’ by Father Bauny; the fifth edition, you see, +which shows that it is a good book. ‘In order to +sin,’ says Father Bauny, ‘it is necessary to know +that the <i>thing we wish to do is not +good</i>.’” “A capital +commencement,” I remarked. “Yet,” said +he, “only think how far envy will carry some people. +It was on this very passage that M. Hallier, before he became one +of our friends, quizzed Father Bauny, saying of him +‘<i>Ecce qui tollit peccata mundi</i>—Behold the man +who taketh away the sins of the world.’” <a +name="citation147"></a><a href="#footnote147" +class="citation">[147]</a> Then after an elaborate +description of all that goes to make a sin—</p> +<blockquote><p>“‘O my dear sir,’ cried I, +‘what a blessing this will be to some friends of my +acquaintance! You have never, perhaps, in all your life met +with people who have fewer sins to account for! In the +first place, they never think of God at all, still less of +praying to Him; so that, according to M. le Moine, they are still +in a state of baptismal innocence. They have never had a +thought of loving God, or of being contrite for their sins; so +that, according to Father Annat, they have never committed sin +through the want of charity and penitence. . . . I had +always supposed that the less a man thought of God the more he +sinned; but from what I see now, if one could only succeed in +bringing himself not to think of God at all, everything would be +peace with him in all time coming. Away with your +half-and-half sinners who have some love for virtue! They +will be damned every one of them. But as for your +out-and-out sinners, hardened <!-- page 148--><a +name="page148"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 148</span>and without +mixture, thorough and determined in their evil courses, hell is +no place for them. They have cheated the devil by stern +devotion to his service!’” <a +name="citation148"></a><a href="#footnote148" +class="citation">[148]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is in hits like these, everywhere scattered throughout the +earlier letters, to which no translation can do justice, and +which lose half their edge by being separated from their context, +that the wit of Pascal shines. A more delicate, and at the +same time more scathing irony, cannot be conceived. He hits +with the lightest stroke, and in the most natural manner, yet his +lash cuts the flesh, and leaves an intolerable smart. All +that could be said in answer was, that his representations were +lies. They were conscious exaggerations, no doubt, as all +satirical representations are. This is of their very +nature. But the extent to which they told, and the +bitterness of the feeling which they excited at the time, and +have continued to excite amongst the Jesuits and their friends, +show how much truth there was in them. Nothing can be more +pitiful and less satisfactory than mere complaints of their +falsehood. Such complaints were hardly to have been +expected from any other quarter than the Jesuits +themselves. Yet even Chateaubriand, in his new-born zeal +for the Church, could say of their author, “Pascal is only +a calumniator of genius. He has left us an immortal +lie.”</p> +<p>Of the graver part of the Letters, the following are the only +extracts that our space will permit:—</p> +<h3>JESUIT LAXITY AND CHRISTIAN INDIGNATION.</h3> +<blockquote><p>“Such is the way in which our teachers have +discharged men from the ‘painful’ obligation of +actually loving God. <!-- page 149--><a +name="page149"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 149</span>And so +advantageous a doctrine is this, that our Fathers Annat, +Pintereau, Le Moine, and A. Sirmond even, have defended it +vigorously when assailed by any one. You have only to +consult their answers in the ‘Moral Theology;’ that +of Father Pintereau, in particular (second part), will enable you +to judge of the value of this dispensation by the price which it +has cost, even the blood of Jesus. This is the crown of +such a doctrine.” (A quotation is then given from +Father Pintereau to the effect that it is a characteristic of the +new Evangelical law, in contrast to the Judaical, that “God +has lightened the troublesome and arduous obligation of +exercising an act of perfect contrition in order to be +justified.”) “‘O father,’ said I, +‘no patience can stand this any longer. One cannot +hear without horror such sentiments as I have been listening +to.’ ‘They are not my sentiments,’ said +the monk. ‘I know that well; but you have expressed +no aversion to them; and far from detesting the authors of such +maxims, you cherish esteem for them. Do you not fear that +your consent will make you a participator in their guilt? +Was it not sufficient to allow men so many forbidden things under +cover of your palliations? Was it necessary to afford them +the occasion of committing crimes that even you cannot excuse by +the facility and assurance of absolution which you offer them? . +. . The licence which your teachers have assumed of +tampering with the most holy rules of Christian conduct amounts +to a total subversion of the Divine law. They violate the +great commandment which embraces the law and the prophets; they +strike at the very heart of piety; they take away the spirit +which giveth life. They say that the love of God is not +necessary to salvation; they even go the length of professing +that this dispensation from loving God is the special privilege +which Jesus Christ has brought into the world. This is the +very climax of impiety. The price of the blood of Jesus, +the purchase for us of a dispensation from loving Him! +Before the incarnation we were under the necessity of loving +God. But since God has so loved the world as to give His +only Son for it, the world, thus redeemed by Him, is discharged +from loving Him! Strange theology <!-- page 150--><a +name="page150"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 150</span>of our +time!—to take away the anathema pronounced by St Paul +against those “who love not the Lord Jesus Christ;” +to blot out the saying of St John, that “he that loveth not +abideth in death;” and the words of Jesus Christ Himself, +“He that loveth me not keepeth not my +commandments!” In this manner those who have never +loved God in life are rendered worthy of enjoying Him throughout +eternity. Behold the mystery of iniquity +accomplished! Open your eyes, my father; and if you have +remained untouched by the other distortions of your Casuists, let +this last by its excess compel you to abandon them.’” +<a name="citation150a"></a><a href="#footnote150a" +class="citation">[150a]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<h3>DEFENCE OF RIDICULE AS A WEAPON IN CONTROVERSY.</h3> +<blockquote><p>“What, my fathers! must the imaginations of +your doctors pass for faithful verities? Must we not expose +the sayings of Escobar, <a name="citation150b"></a><a +href="#footnote150b" class="citation">[150b]</a> and the +fantastic and unchristian statements of others, without being +accused of laughing at religion? Is it possible you have +dared to repeat anything so unreasonable? and have you no fear +that in blaming me for ridiculing your absurdities, you were +merely furnishing me with a fresh subject of arousing attack, and +of pointing out more clearly that I have not found in your books +any subject of laughter which is not in itself intensely +ridiculous; and that in making a jest of your moral maxims, I am +as far from making a jest of holy things as the doctrine of your +Casuists distant from the holy doctrine of the Gospel? In +truth, sirs, there is a vast difference between laughing at +religion <!-- page 151--><a name="page151"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 151</span>and laughing at those who profane it +by their extravagant opinions. It were an impiety to fail +in respect for the great truths which the Divine Spirit has +revealed; but it would be no less impiety of another kind to fail +in contempt for falsehoods which the spirit of man has opposed to +them. . . . Just as Christian truths are worthy of love and +respect, the errors which oppose them are worthy of contempt and +hatred: for as there are two things in the truths of our +religion—a divine beauty which renders them lovable, and a +holy majesty which renders them venerable; so there are two +things in such errors—an impiety which makes them horrible, +and an impertinence which renders them ridiculous.” <a +name="citation151a"></a><a href="#footnote151a" +class="citation">[151a]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Many examples from the Scriptures and the Fathers are then +quoted in defence of the practice of directing ridicule against +error; and he closes with a singularly appropriate passage from +Tertullian: “Nothing is more due to vanity than laughter; +it is the Truth properly that has a right to laugh, because she +is cheerful—and to make sport of her enemies, because she +is sure of victory.”</p> +<blockquote><p>“Do you not think, my fathers, that this +passage is singularly applicable to our subject? The +letters which I have hitherto written are ‘only a little +sport before the real combat.’ As yet I have been +only playing with the foils, and ‘rather indicating the +wounds that might be given you than inflicting any.’ +I have merely exposed your sayings to the light, without +commenting on them. ‘If they have excited laughter, +it is only because they are so laughable in +themselves.’ These sayings come upon us with such +surprise, it is impossible to help laughing at them; for nothing +produces laughter more than surprising disproportion between what +one hears and what one expects. In what other way could the +most of these matters be treated? for, as Tertullian says, +‘To treat them seriously would be to sanction +them.’” <a name="citation151b"></a><a +href="#footnote151b" class="citation">[151b]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<h3><!-- page 152--><a name="page152"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 152</span>APPEAL AGAINST THE JESUITS.</h3> +<blockquote><p>“Too long have you deceived the world, and +abused the confidence which men have put in your +impostures. It is high time to vindicate the reputation of +so many people whom you have calumniated; for what innocence can +be so generally acknowledged as not to suffer contamination from +the daring aspersion of a society of men scattered throughout the +world, who, under religious habits, cover irreligious minds; who +perpetrate crimes as they concoct slanders—not against, but +in conformity with, their own maxims? No one can blame me, +surely, for having destroyed the confidence which you might +otherwise have inspired, since it is far more just to vindicate +for so many good people whom you have decried, the reputation for +piety they deserved, than to leave you a reputation for sincerity +which you have never merited. And as the one could not be +done without the other, how important was it to make the world +understand what you really are. This is what I have begun +to do; but it will require time to complete the work. The +world, however, shall hear of you, my fathers, and all your +policy will not avail to shelter you. The very efforts you +make to ward off the blow will only serve to convince the least +enlightened that you are afraid, and that, smitten in your own +consciences by my charges, you have had recourse to every +expedient to prevent exposure.” <a +name="citation152"></a><a href="#footnote152" +class="citation">[152]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>The effect of the ‘Provincial Letters’ was not +only to alarm the Jesuits, but the Church. The scandal of +their exposure was so deeply felt, that the <i>curés</i> +of Paris and Rouen appointed committees to investigate the +accuracy of Pascal’s quotations, and the result of their +investigation was entirely in Pascal’s favour. This +led ultimately to the matter being carried before a General +Assembly of the clergy of Paris, which, however, declined to give +any <!-- page 153--><a name="page153"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 153</span>formal decision. In the +meantime, an ‘Apology for the Casuists’ was published +by a Jesuit of the name of Pirot, of such a character as to +increase rather than abate the scandal, and a new controversy +gathered around this publication. The Sorbonne took up the +question, and, after examination, condemned Pirot’s Apology +(July 1658) as they had formerly done Arnauld’s +propositions, and ultimately it was included by Rome in the +‘Index Expurgatorius,’ along with the +‘Provincial Letters,’ to which it was designed as a +reply. While the question was before the Sorbonne, the +<i>curés</i> of Paris published various writings, under +the name of ‘Facta,’ in support of the conclusions to +which they had come. These writings were prepared in +concert with Pascal and his friends, and the second and fifth are +ascribed entirely to his pen. It is even said that he +looked upon the latter, in which he drew a parallel betwixt the +Jesuits and Calvinists (to the disadvantage of the Protestants), +as the <i>best thing he ever did</i>. <a +name="citation153"></a><a href="#footnote153" +class="citation">[153]</a> Long after Pascal’s death +(in 1694) an elaborate answer appeared, by Father Daniel, to the +‘Provincial Letters,’ under the title of +‘Entretiens de Cléandre et d’Eudoxe sur les +Lettres au Provincial;’ but notwithstanding a certain +amount of learning and apparent candour, the reply made no +impression upon the public. Even the Jesuits themselves +felt it to be a failure. “Father Daniel,” it +was said, “professed to have reason and truth on his side; +but his adversary had in his favour what goes much farther with +men,—the arms of ridicule and pleasantry.” As +late as 1851 an edition of the ‘Letters’ appeared by +the Abbé Maynard, accompanied by a <!-- page 154--><a +name="page154"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 154</span>professed +refutation of their misstatements. But the truth is, +Pascal’s work is one of those which admit of no adequate +refutation. Even if it be granted that he has occasionally +made the most of a quotation, and brought points together which, +taken separately in their connection, have not the offensive +meaning attributed to them, this touches but little the reader +who has enjoyed their exquisite raillery or has been moved by +their indignant denunciation. The real force of the Letters +lies in their wit and eloquence—their mingled comedy and +invective. They may be parried or resented—they can +never be refuted.</p> +<p>We have already quoted Voltaire’s saying, “The +best comedies of Molière have not more wit than the first +Provincial Letters.” “Bossuet,” he added, +“has nothing more sublime than the concluding +ones.” They were regarded by him as “models of +eloquence and pleasantry,” as the “first work of +genius” that appeared in French prose. When Bossuet +himself was asked of what work he would most wish to have been +the author, he answered, “The ‘Provincial +Letters.’” Madame de Sévigné +writes of them (Dec. 21, 1689): “How charming they are! . . +. Is it possible to have a more perfect style, an irony +finer, more delicate, more natural, more worthy of the Dialogues +of Plato? . . . And what seriousness of tone, what +solidity, what eloquence in the last eight Letters!” +Our Gibbon attributed to the frequent perusal of them his own +mastery of “grave and temperate irony.” Boileau +pronounced them “unsurpassed” in ancient or modern +prose. Encomiums could hardly go higher, and yet the +language of Perrault is in a still higher strain: “There is +more wit in these eighteen Letters than in Plato’s <!-- +page 155--><a name="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +155</span>Dialogues; more delicate and artful raillery than in +those of Lucian; and more strength and ingenuity of reasoning +than in the orations of Cicero.” Their style +especially is beyond all praise. It has “never been +surpassed, nor perhaps equalled.” There may be, as +there is apt to be in all such concurrent verdicts, a strain of +excess. The duller English sense may not catch all the +finer edges of a style which it may yet feel to be exquisite in +its general clearness, harmony, and point; the absurdities of +verbal argument and of Jesuit sophistry may sometimes pall upon +the attention, and hardly raise a smile at this time of +day. It is the fate of even the finest polemical literature +to grow dead as it grows old; yet none can doubt the immortality +of the genius which has so long given life to such a controversy, +and charmed so many of the highest judges of literary form. +It is not for any Englishman to challenge the verdict of a +Frenchman in a matter of style.</p> +<p>Pascal himself evidently thought highly of his success. +He liked the controversy, its excitement, and the applausive echo +which followed each Letter. Like every true artist, he felt +the joy and yet the gravity of his work. He took up his pen +with a pleasurable sense of mastery, and yet he wrote some of the +Letters six or seven times over. He spared no pains, yet he +never wearied. All his intellectual life for the time was +thrown into the controversy, and his most finely-tempered strokes +made music in his own mind, while they carried confusion to his +adversaries and triumph to his friends. The sensation made +by the Letters was, of course, mainly confined to France; but the +nervous Latinity of Nicole soon communicated something of the +same sensation to a wider <!-- page 156--><a +name="page156"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 156</span>circle. <a +name="citation156"></a><a href="#footnote156" +class="citation">[156]</a> Pascal has himself told us that +he never repented having written them, nor “the amusing, +agreeable, ironical style” in which they were +written. Even the condemnation of the Papal See, abject in +some respects as was his devotion to his Church, did not move him +on this point. He left on record, amongst his Thoughts, the +following solemn declaration: “<span class="smcap">If my +Letters are condemned in Rome</span>, <span class="smcap">what i +condemn in them is condemned in heaven</span>. <span +class="smcap">Ad tuum</span>, <span class="smcap">Domine +Jesu</span>, <span class="smcap">tribunal +appello</span>.”</p> +<h2><!-- page 157--><a name="page157"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 157</span>CHAPTER VI.<br /> +THE ‘PENSÉES.’</h2> +<p>From Pascal’s finished work we turn to his unfinished +Remains. The one will always be regarded as the chief +monument of his literary skill, and of the executive completeness +of his mind. But the other is the worthier and nobler +tribute to the greatness of his soul, and the depth and power of +his moral genius. Few comparatively now read the +‘Provincial Letters’ as a whole; fewer still are +interested in the controversy which they commemorate. But +there are hardly any of higher culture—none certainly of +higher thoughtfulness—to whom the +‘Pensées’ are not still attractive, and who +have not sought in them at one time or another some answer to the +obstinate questionings which the deeper scrutiny of human life +and destiny is ever renewing in the human heart. No answer +may have been found in them, but every spiritual mind must have +so far met in the author of the ‘Pensées’ a +kindred spirit which, if it has seen no farther than others, has +yet entered keenly upon the great quest, and traversed with a +singular boldness the great lines of higher speculation that +“slope through darkness up to God.”</p> +<p><!-- page 158--><a name="page158"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +158</span>The literary history of the +‘Pensées’ is a very curious one. They +first appeared in the end of 1669, in a small duodecimo volume, +with the appropriate motto, “Pendent opera +interrupta.” Their preparation for the press had been +a subject of much anxiety to Pascal’s friends. What +is known as the “Peace of the Church”—a period +of temporary quiet and prosperity to Port Royal—had begun +in 1663; and it was important that nothing should be done by the +Port Royalists to disturb this peace. It had been agreed, +therefore, that all passages bearing on the controversy with the +Jesuits and the Formulary should be omitted; but beyond this +Madame Périer desired that the volume should only contain +what proceeded from her brother, and in the precise form and +style in which it had left his hand. She evidently lacked +full confidence in the Committee of Editors, of whom the Duc de +Roannez was the chief, notwithstanding their professions of +strict adherence to the manuscripts. The volume at last +appeared, with a preface by her own son, and no fewer than nine +“approbations,” signed amongst others by three +bishops, one archdeacon, and three doctors of the Sorbonne.</p> +<p>Unhappily Madame Périer had too much cause for +alarm. Editors and Approvers alike had claimed the liberty, +not only of arranging but of modifying both the matter and the +style of the ‘Pensées,’ and this +notwithstanding a statement in the preface that, in giving, as +they professed to do, only “the clearest and most +finished” of the fragments, they had given them as they +found them, <i>without adding or changing anything</i>. +“These fragments,” says M. Faugère, +“which sickness and death had left unfinished, suffered, +without ceasing <!-- page 159--><a name="page159"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 159</span>to be immortal, all the mutilation +which an exaggerated prudence or a misdirected zeal could +suggest, with the view not only of guarding their orthodoxy, but +of embellishing their style—the style of the author of the +‘Provincials’!” “There are +not,” he adds, “twenty successive lines which do not +present some alteration, great or small. As for total +omissions and partial suppressions, they are without +number.” M. Cousin is equally emphatic. +“There are,” he says, “examples of every kind +of alteration—alteration of words, alteration of phrases, +suppressions, substitutions, additions, arbitrary compositions, +and, what is worse, decompositions more arbitrary +still.”</p> +<p>It is impossible to defend the first editors of the +‘Pensées.’ But it should be remembered +that their task was one not only of theological perplexity, but +of great literary difficulty. Pascal’s manuscripts +were a mere mass of confused papers, sometimes written on both +sides, and in a hand for the most part so obscure and imperfectly +formed as to be illegible to all who had not made it a special +study. The papers were pasted or bundled together without +any natural connection, parts containing the same piece being +sometimes intersected and sometimes widely separated from one +another. If the editors, therefore, did their work ill, it +was partly no doubt from incompetency, but partly from its +inherent difficulty, and from the fact that being so near to +Pascal they could hardly appreciate the feelings of the modern +critic as to the sacredness of his style, and of all that came +from his pen.</p> +<p>The edition of 1669 continued to be reprinted with little +alteration for a century. Various additional <!-- page +160--><a name="page160"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +160</span>fragments were brought to light, especially the famous +conversation between De Saci and Pascal regarding Epictetus and +Montaigne; but the form of the fragments remained +unchanged. It was not till the edition of Condorcet in 1776 +that they can be said to have undergone any new +<i>rédaction</i>. Unhappily Pascal suffered in the +hands of the Encyclopedists, as he had previously suffered in the +hands of the Jansenists and the Sorbonne. The first editors +had expunged whatever might seem at variance with +orthodoxy. Condorcet suppressed or modified whatever +partook of a too lofty enthusiasm or a too fervent piety. +It became a current idea among the Encyclopedists that the +accident at Neuilly had affected Pascal’s brain. We +have already seen how Voltaire spoke of this; and he directed an +early attack (1734) upon the doctrine of human nature contained +in the ‘Pensées.’ Now, in his old age, +he hailed Condorcet’s edition, and reissued it two years +later, with an Introduction and Notes by himself.</p> +<p>In the following year, 1779, appeared the elaborate and +well-known edition of Pascal’s works by the Abbé +Bossut, accompanied by an admirable “Discours sur la Vie et +les Ouvrages de Pascal.” In this edition the remains +are found for the first time in some degree of +completeness. All the fragments published by Port Royal, +and all those subsequently brought to light by Des Molets and +others, are included and arranged in a new order. But +meritorious as were Bossut’s editorial labours as a whole, +they did not attempt any restoration of the +‘Pensées’ to their original text; and even the +new fragments published by him were not left untouched. He +embodied, for example, the famous conversation with <!-- page +161--><a name="page161"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 161</span>De +Saci, but without giving De Saci’s part of the +dialogue. In short, he reproduced, as M. Havet says, all +the faults of the first editors, and made others of his +own. This is the more remarkable that he is said to have +had in his possession a copy of the original manuscripts. +Condorcet, however, consulted the original manuscripts +themselves, without any thought of doing justice to +Pascal’s text.</p> +<p>So matters remained till 1842, when M. Cousin published his +famous Report on the subject to the French Academy. The +French public then found to their astonishment that, with so many +editions of the ‘Pensées,’ they had not the +‘Pensées’ themselves. While philosophers +had disputed as to his ideas, and critics admired his style, the +veritable Pascal of the ‘Pensées’ had all the +time lain concealed in a mass of manuscripts in the National +Library. Such a story, it may be imagined, did not lack any +force in the manner in which M. Cousin told it; and an eager +desire arose for a new and complete edition of the +fragments. Cousin had prepared the way, but he did not +himself undertake this task, which was reserved for M. +Faugère, whose great edition appeared two years later, in +1844. Nothing can deprive M. Faugère of the credit +of being the first editor of a <i>complete</i> and +<i>authentic</i> text of the ‘Pensées.’</p> +<p>Other editions of distinctive merit have since appeared; and +it may be admitted that, in the natural reaction from the laxity +of former editions, he gave a too literal transcript of the +manuscripts, including some things of little importance, and +others more properly belonging to an edition of the +‘Provincial Letters’ than of the +‘Pensées.’ But, whether it be the result +of early association or of <!-- page 162--><a +name="page162"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 162</span>greater +familiarity with M. Faugère’s pages, I own still a +preference for this edition, while admitting the admirable +perspicuity and intelligence of many of M. Havet’s notes, +and the splendour of the edition of M. Victor Rochet, the most +recent (1873) that has come under my notice.</p> +<p>The principle observed by M. Faugère is strongly +defended in his preface. He allowed himself no +discretionary powers of emendation, because “the limits of +such a power might,” he says, “be too easily +overstepped, and would have left room for belief that greater +liberties had been taken than was actually the case.” +“The manuscripts,” he adds, “have been read, or +rather studied, page by page, line by line, syllable by syllable, +to the end; and, with the exception of illegible words (which, +however, are carefully indicated), they have passed completely +into the present edition.”</p> +<p>So far, this principle has been adhered to by subsequent +editors. There has been no further tampering with +Pascal’s words, but more or less latitude has been taken in +publishing all the manuscript details, and especially in the +arrangement of the several fragments. Faugère +fancied that he could trace in Pascal’s own notes the +indication of an interior arrangement, into which the several +parts of his proposed work in defence of religion were intended +to fall; and he has grouped the fragments in his second volume +according to these supposed indications. M. Havet does not +think that it is possible any longer to discover the true order +of the fragments. He does not believe that any such order +existed in the author’s own mind. He had a general +design, and certain great divisions; a preface was sketched <!-- +page 163--><a name="page163"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +163</span>here, and a chapter there; but in throwing his thoughts +upon paper as they presented themselves to him, he did not stop +to assort them, or to bring them into any fitting +connection. What Pascal himself did not do, M. Havet does +not think it possible any editor can do. Accordingly, he +recurs to the old, if somewhat arbitrary, arrangement of Bossut, +as the most familiar and useful. M. Rochet follows an +elaborate arrangement, professedly founded on the original plan +of Pascal, as sketched by himself in the conversation reported by +his nephew in the preface to the primary edition of the +fragments. He considers that all the Thoughts find their +natural place in this plan and in no other. But M. +Rochet’s classifications are, partly at least, inspired by +his own ecclesiastical tendencies; and he is far from just to the +labours of M. Faugère, and the real light and order which +these labours introduced into the development of Pascal’s +ideas.</p> +<p>It is unnecessary for us to attempt to hold the balance +between Pascal’s several editors, or to say which of them +has most justice on his side. Of two things there can be no +doubt: first, that any special arrangement of the +‘Pensées,’ so as to give the idea of a +connected book in defence of religion, is, so far, +arbitrary—the work, that is to say, of the editor rather +than of the author; and secondly, that there is no difficulty, +from the original preface and otherwise, of gathering the general +order of Pascal’s ideas, and the method which appeared to +him the true one of meeting the irreligion of his day, and +vindicating the divine truth of Christianity—points which +shall afterwards come before us.</p> +<p>The special question raised by M. Cousin as to <!-- page +164--><a name="page164"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +164</span>Pascal’s scepticism will also be best discussed +in its true order, in connection with such passages as have +suggested it. Considering Pascal’s traditionary +reputation as the defender of religion, there was a character of +surprise in this question, that forced a lively debate, as soon +as it was raised, in France and Germany, and even England. +Vinet and Neander both joined in it; and the two lectures +delivered by the latter before the Royal Academy of Sciences in +Berlin in 1847, are highly deserving of perusal by all students +of philosophy. <a name="citation164"></a><a href="#footnote164" +class="citation">[164]</a> But the issue is an absurd one, +before the combatants are agreed as to the meaning of the word +Scepticism, and before the reader has before him the views of +Pascal, and the manner in which he defines his own attitude in +relation to what he considered the two great lines of thought +opposed to Christianity. When we are in possession of his +own statements, we may find that much of the indignant rhetoric +of M. Cousin is beside the question, and that, although Pascal +was certainly no Cartesian, and has used some strong and rash +expressions about the weakness of human reason, neither is he a +sceptic in any usual sense. He has, in fact, defined his +own position with singular clearness and force.</p> +<p>But before turning to his views on these higher subjects, it +will be well to present our readers with some of Pascal’s +more miscellaneous and general Thoughts. In doing so, it is +not necessary, in such a volume as this, that we indicate +throughout the edition from which we take our quotations. +We shall quote from the editions of <!-- page 165--><a +name="page165"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +165</span>Faugère or Havet, as may be most convenient, and +take them in such order as suits our own purpose of exhibiting +Pascal’s mind as clearly as we can. For the same +reason, we shall give such passages as appear to us not always +the most just or accurate in thought, but the most characteristic +or representative of the veritable Pascal, whose true words were +so long concealed from the world. We cannot do better, in +the first instance, than note what so great a mathematician has +to say of geometry and the “mathematical mind,” +compared with the naturally <i>acute</i> mind +(“l’esprit de finesse”), betwixt which he draws +an interesting parallel. The fragment on the +“Mathematical” or “Geometric Mind” was, +with the exception of a brief passage given by Des Molets <a +name="citation165"></a><a href="#footnote165" +class="citation">[165]</a> in 1728, originally published, +although with numerous suppressions, in Condorcet’s edition +of the ‘Pensées.’ It appeared for the +first time in its complete form, and under its proper title, in +Faugère’s edition, along with its natural pendant, +the closely-allied fragment, entitled “L’Art de +Persuader.” We give a few passages from the first +fragment:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“We may have three principal objects in the +study of truth—one to discover it when we seek it, another +to demonstrate it when we possess it, and a third and last to +discriminate it from the false when we examine it. . . . +Geometry excels in all three, and especially in the art of +discovering unknown truths, which it calls <i>analysis</i>. . +. There is a method which excels geometry, but is +impossible to man, <i>for whatever transcends geometry transcends +us</i> [in natural science, as he explains elsewhere]. This +is the method of defining everything and proving everything. . +. A fine method, but impossible; since it is evident that +the first <!-- page 166--><a name="page166"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 166</span>terms that we wish to define, +suppose precedent terms necessary for their explanation—and +that the first propositions that we wish to prove, suppose others +which precede them; and so it is clear we can never arrive at +absolutely first principles. In pushing our researches to +the utmost, we necessarily reach primitive words that admit of no +further definition, and principles so obvious, that they require +no proof. Man can never, therefore, from natural +incompetency, possess an absolutely complete science. . . . +But geometry, while inferior in its aims, is absolutely certain +within its limits. It neither defines everything, nor +attempts to prove everything, and must, so far, yield its +pretension to be an absolute science; but it sets out from things +universally admitted as clear and constant, and is therefore +perfectly true, because in consonance with nature. Its +function is not to define things universally clear and +understood, but to define all others; and not to attempt to prove +things intuitively known to men, but to attempt to prove all +others. Against this, the true order of knowledge, those +alike err who attempt to define and to prove everything, and +those who neglect definition and demonstration where things are +not self-evident. This is what geometry teaches +perfectly. It attempts no definition of such things as +<i>space</i>, <i>time</i>, <i>motion</i>, <i>number</i>, +<i>equality</i>, and the like, because these terms designate so +naturally the things which they signify, that any attempt at +making them more clear ends in making them more obscure. +For there is nothing more futile than the talk of those who would +define primitive words. <a name="citation166"></a><a +href="#footnote166" class="citation">[166]</a></p> +<p>. . . . . . . .</p> +<p>“In geometry the principles are palpable, but removed +from common use. . . . In the sphere of natural wit or +acuteness, the principles are in common use and before all +eyes—it is only a question of having a good view of them; +for they are so subtle and numerous, that some are almost sure to +escape observation. . . . All geometers would be men of +acuteness if they had sufficient insight, for they <!-- page +167--><a name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +167</span>never reason falsely on the principles recognised by +them. All fine or acute spirits would be geometers if they +could fix their thoughts on the unwonted principles of +geometry. The reason why some finer spirits are not +geometers is, that they cannot turn their attention at all to the +principles of geometry; but geometers fail in finer perception, +because they do not see all that is before them, and being +accustomed to the plain and palpable principles of geometry, and +never reasoning until they have well ascertained and handled +their principles, they lose themselves in matters of intellectual +subtlety, where the principles are not so easily laid hold +of. Such things are seen with difficulty; they are felt +rather than seen. They are so delicate and multitudinous +that it requires a very delicate and neat sense to appreciate +them. . . . So it is as rare for geometers to be men of +subtle wit as it is for the latter to be geometers, because +geometers like to treat these nicer matters geometrically, and so +make themselves ridiculous; they like to commence with +definition, and then go on to principles—a mode which does +not at all suit this sort of reasoning. It is not that the +mind does not take this method, but it does so silently, +naturally, and without conscious art. The perception of the +process belongs only to a few minds, and those of the highest +order. . . . Geometers, who are only geometers, are sure to +be right, provided the subject come within their scope, and is +capable of explanation by definition and principles. +Otherwise they go wrong altogether, for they only judge rightly +upon principles clearly set forth and established. On the +other hand, subtle men, who are only subtle, lack patience, in +matters of speculation and imagination, to reach first principles +which they have never known in the world, and which are entirely +beyond their beat. . . .</p> +<p>“There are different kinds of sound sense. Some +succeed in one order of things, and not in another, in which they +are simply extravagant. . . . Some minds draw consequences +well from a few principles, others are more at home in drawing +conclusions from a great variety of principles. For +example, some understand well the phenomena of water, with <!-- +page 168--><a name="page168"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +168</span>reference to which the principles are few, but the +results extremely delicate, so that only very great accuracy of +mind can trace them. Such men would probably not be great +geometers, because geometry involves a multitude of principles, +and because the mind which may penetrate thoroughly a few +principles to their depth may not be at all able to penetrate +things which combine a multitude of principles. . . . There +are two sorts of mind: the one fathoms rapidly and deeply the +consequences of principles—this is the observant and +accurate mind; the other embraces a great multitude of +principles, without confounding them—and this is the +mathematical mind. The one is marked by energy and +accuracy, the other by amplitude. But the one may exist +without the other. The mind may be powerful and narrow, or +it may be ample and weak.” <a name="citation168"></a><a +href="#footnote168" class="citation">[168]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Few of Pascal’s Thoughts are more interesting than those +on “Eloquence and Style.” So great a master of +the art of expression had naturally something to say on these +subjects.</p> +<blockquote><p>“Continued eloquence wearies. Princes +and kings amuse themselves sometimes; they are not always upon +their thrones—they tire of these. Grandeur must be +laid aside in order to be realised.</p> +<p>“Eloquence is a picture of thought; and thus those who, +after having drawn a picture, still go on, make a tableau and not +a likeness.</p> +<p>“Eloquence is the art of saying things in such a +manner—first, that those to whom they are addressed can +understand them without trouble and with pleasure; and secondly, +that they may be interested in them in such a way that their +<i>amour propre</i> may lead them gladly to reflect upon +them. It consists, therefore, in a correspondence +established between the mind and heart of the hearers on the one +side, and the <!-- page 169--><a name="page169"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 169</span>thoughts and expressions used on the +other, and so implies a close study of the human heart in order +to know all its springs, and to find the due measures of speech +to address to it. It must confine itself, as far as +possible, to the simplicity of nature, and not make great what is +small, nor small what is great. It is not enough that a +thing be fine, it must be fitting,—neither in excess nor +defect.”</p> +<p>“Eloquence should prevail by gentle suasion, not by +constraint. It should reign, not tyrannise.</p> +<p>“There are some who speak well, and who do not write +well. The place—the assembly—excites them, and +draws forth their mind more than they ever experience without +such excitement.”</p> +<p>“Those who make antitheses by forcing the sense are like +men who make false windows for the sake of symmetry. Their +rule is not to speak correctly, but to make correct +figures.”</p> +<p>“There should be in eloquence always what is true and +real; but that which is pleasing should itself be the +real.”</p> +<p>“When we meet with the natural style we are surprised +and delighted, for we expected to find an author, and we find a +man; whilst those of good taste who in looking into a book think +to find a man, are altogether surprised to find an author. +<i>Plus poetice quam humane locutus es</i>. They honour +nature most who teach her that she can speak best on all +subjects—even on theology.”</p> +<p>“There are men who always dress up nature. No mere +king with them, but an august monarch. No Paris, but the +capital of the kingdom. There are places in which it is +necessary to call Paris Paris; others, where we must call it the +capital of the kingdom.”</p> +<p>“When in composition we find a word repeated, and on +trying to correct it find it so suitable that a change would +spoil the sense, it is better to let it alone. This stamps +it as fitting, and it is a stupid feeling which does not +recognise that repetition in such a case is not a fault; for +there is no universal rule.</p> +<p>“The meaning itself changes with the words which <!-- +page 170--><a name="page170"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +170</span>express it. The meaning derives its dignity from +the words, instead of imparting it to them.”</p> +<p>“The last thing that we discover in writing a book is to +know what to put at the beginning.</p> +<p>“When a discourse paints a passion or effect naturally, +we find in ourselves the truth of what we hear, which was there +without our knowing it, so that we are led to like the man who +discovers so much to us. For he does not show us his own +good, but ours; and this good turn makes him lovable. +Besides that, the community of intelligence we have with him +necessarily inclines the heart towards him.</p> +<p>“Let none allege that I have said nothing new. The +arrangement of the matter is new. When we play at tennis, +both play with the same ball; but one plays better than the +other. They might as well accuse me of using old words, as +if the same thoughts differently arranged would not form a +different discourse; just as the same words differently arranged +express different thoughts.</p> +<p>“There is a definite standard of taste and beauty, which +consists in a certain relation between our nature—it may be +weak or strong, but such as it is—and the thing that +pleases us. All that is formed to this standard delights +us,—house, song, writing, verse, prose, women, buds, +rivers, trees, rooms, dress, etc. All that is not formed by +this standard disgusts men of good taste.</p> +<p>“I never judge of the same thing exactly in the same +manner. I cannot judge of my work in the course of doing +it. I must do as painters do, place myself at a distance +from it, but not too far. How then? You may +guess.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We do not look to Pascal especially for worldly insight, or +for that sharp knowledge of men that make the sayings of clever +social writers like Rochefoucauld or Horace Walpole memorable, if +not always wise or kind. But there are many of the Thoughts +which show that the penitent of Port Royal had looked with clear +observant eyes below the surface of Paris society, and that he +had <!-- page 171--><a name="page171"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 171</span>a deep sense not only of the moral +but the social weaknesses of humanity.</p> +<blockquote><p>“When passion leads us towards anything, we +forget duty; as we like a book we read it, while we ought to be +doing something else. In order to be reminded of our duty, +it is necessary to propose to do something that we dislike; then +we excuse ourselves on the ground that we have something else to +do, and so we recollect our duty by this means.</p> +<p>“How wisely are men distinguished by their exterior +rather than by their interior qualifications! Which of us +two shall take the lead? Which shall yield +precedence? The man of less talent? But I am as +clever as he. Then we must fight it out. But he has +four lackeys and I have only one. That is a visible +difference. We have only to count the numbers. It is +my place then to give way, and I am a fool to contest the +point. In this way peace is kept, which is the greatest of +blessings.</p> +<p>“There is a great advantage in rank, which gives to a +man of eighteen or twenty a degree of acceptance, publicity, and +respect which another can hardly obtain by merit at fifty. +It is a gain of thirty years without any trouble.</p> +<p>“Respect for others requires you to inconvenience +yourself. This seems foolish, yet it is very proper. +It seems to say, I would gladly inconvenience myself if you +really required me to do so, seeing I am ready to do so without +serving you.</p> +<p>“‘This is <i>my</i> dog,’ say children; +‘that sunny seat is mine.’ There is the +beginning and type of the usurpation of the whole earth.</p> +<p>“This <i>I</i> is hateful. You, Miton, <a +name="citation171"></a><a href="#footnote171" +class="citation">[171]</a> merely cover it, you do not take it +away; you are therefore always hateful. Not at all, you +say; for if we act obligingly to all men, they have no reason to +hate us. So far true, if there was nothing hateful in the +<i>I</i> itself but the displeasure which it gives. But if +I hate it because it is essentially unjust, because it makes +itself the centre of everything, I shall hate it always. +<!-- page 172--><a name="page172"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +172</span>In short, this <i>I</i> has two qualities: it is unjust +in itself, in that it makes itself the centre of everything; it +is an annoyance to others, in that it would serve itself by +them. Each <i>I</i> is the enemy, and would be the tyrant, +of all others.</p> +<p>“He who would thoroughly know the vanity of men has only +to consider the causes and effects of love. The cause is a +<i>je ne sais quoi</i>, an indefinable trifle—the effects +are monstrous. If the nose of Cleopatra had been a little +shorter, it would have changed the history of the world.</p> +<p>“You have a bad manner—‘excuse me, if you +please.’ Without the apology I should not have known +that there was any harm done. Begging your pardon, the +‘excuse me,’ is all the mischief.</p> +<p>“Do you wish men to speak well of you? Then never +speak well of yourself.</p> +<p>“The more mind we have, the more do we observe men of +original mind. It is your commonplace people that find no +difference betwixt one man and another.</p> +<p>“It is the contest that delights us, and not the +victory. It is the same in play, and the same in search for +truth. We love to watch in argument the conflicts of +opinion; but the plain truth we do not care to look at. To +regard it with pleasure, we must see it gradually emerging from +the contest of debate. It is the same with passions: the +struggle of two contending passions has great interest, but the +dominance of one is mere brutality.</p> +<p>“The example of chastity in Alexander has not availed in +the same degree to make men chaste, as his drunkenness has to +make them intemperate. Men are not ashamed not to be so +virtuous as he; and it seems excusable not to be more +vicious. A man thinks he is not altogether sunk in the mud +when he follows the vices of great men.</p> +<p>“I have spent much time in the study of the abstract +sciences, but the paucity of persons with whom you can +communicate on such subjects, gave me a distaste for them. +When I began to study man, I saw that these abstract studies are +not suited to him, and that in diving into them I wandered +farther from my real object than those who were <!-- page +173--><a name="page173"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +173</span>ignorant of them, and I forgave men for not having +attended to these things. But I thought at least I should +find many companions in the study of mankind, which is the true +and proper study of man. I was mistaken. There are +yet fewer students of man than of geometry.</p> +<p>“People in general are called neither poets nor +geometers, although they have all that in them, and are capable +of being judges of it. They are not specifically marked +out. When they enter a room, they speak of the subject on +hand. They do not show a greater aptitude for one subject +than another, except as circumstances call out their talents. . . +.</p> +<p>“It is poor praise when a man is pointed out on entering +a room as being a clever poet; a bad mark that he should only be +referred to when the question is as to the merit of some verses. +. . .</p> +<p>“Man is full of wants, and likes those who can satisfy +them. ‘Such a one is a good mathematician,’ it +may be said. But then I must be doing mathematics; he would +turn me into a proposition. Another is a good soldier; he +would take me for a besieged place. Give me your true man +of general talents, who can adapt himself to all my needs.</p> +<p>“If a man sets himself at a window to see the +passers-by, and I happen to pass, can I say that he set himself +there to see me? No; for he does not think of me in +particular. But if a man loves a woman for her beauty, does +he love <i>her</i>? No; for the smallpox, which will +destroy her beauty without killing her, will cause him to love +her no more. And if any one loves me for my judgment or my +memory, does he really love <i>me</i>? No; for I may lose +those qualities without ceasing to be. Where, then, is this +<i>me</i>, if it is neither in soul nor body?</p> +<p>“How is it that a lame man does not anger us, but a +blundering mind does? Is it that the cripple admits that we +walk straight, but a crippled mind accuses us of limping? +Epictetus asks also, Why are we not annoyed if any one tells us +that we are unwell in the head, and yet are angry if they tell us +that we reason falsely or choose unwisely? The reason is, +that we know certainly nothing ails our head, or that <!-- page +174--><a name="page174"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 174</span>we +are not crippled in body. But we are not so certain that we +have chosen correctly.</p> +<p>“All men naturally hate one another.</p> +<p>“Desire and force are the source of all our +actions—desire of our voluntary, force of our involuntary +actions.</p> +<p>“Men are necessarily such fools, that it would be folly +of another kind not to be a fool.</p> +<p>“To make a man a saint, grace is absolutely necessary; +and whoever doubts this does not know what a saint is, nor what a +man is.</p> +<p>“The last act is always tragedy, whatever fine comedy +there may have been in the rest of life—We must all die +alone.”</p> +<p>“There can only be two kinds of men: the righteous, who +believe themselves sinners; and sinners, who believe themselves +righteous.</p> +<p>“Unbelievers are the most credulous; they believe the +miracles of Vespasian to escape believing the miracles of +Moses.</p> +<p>“Atheists should speak only of things perfectly clear, +but it is not perfectly clear that the soul is material.</p> +<p>“Atheism indicates force of mind, but only up to a +certain point.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Some of the foregoing Thoughts <a name="citation174"></a><a +href="#footnote174" class="citation">[174]</a> may appear to our +readers sufficient to warrant the charge of scepticism, already +adverted to. Pascal certainly speaks at times both of human +life and human reason in a contemptuous manner. Even +Rochefoucauld could hardly express himself more bitterly than he +does now and then when he fixes his clear gaze upon the folly, +the vanity, the weaknesses which make up man’s customary +life, and the deceits which he practises upon himself and his +fellows. All the world seems to him at such times “in +a state of delusion.” If there is truth, it “is +not where men suppose it to be.” The majority are to +be followed, not “because they have more reason, but +because they have more force.”</p> +<blockquote><p><!-- page 175--><a name="page175"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 175</span>“The power of kings is founded +on the reason and on the folly of the people, but chiefly on +their folly. The greatest and most important thing in the +world has weakness for its basis, and the basis is wonderfully +secure, for there is nothing more certain than that people will +be weak. . . . Our magistrates well understand this +mystery. . . . Save for their crimson robes, ermine, +palaces of justice, fleur-de-lis, they would never have duped the +world. Where would the physician be without his +‘cassock and mule,’ and the theologian without his +‘square cap and flowing garments’? These vain +adornments impress the imagination, and secure respect. We +cannot look at an advocate in his gown and wig without a +favourable impression of his abilities. The soldier alone +needs no disguise, because he gains his authority by actual +force, the others by grimace.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In such sentences, as well as in some previously quoted, the +cynicism of both Hobbes and Montaigne seems to speak. Man +is really a fool, and society rests upon force. The further +down we go, we come, not to any natural rights, or essential +principles of justice, which reason is capable of judging, but +only to a mass of customs built up out of selfish instincts, and +controlled by external influence. Pascal repeats Montaigne +over and over again, and seems to make many of his cynicisms his +own. This is not to be denied. “Montaigne is +right. Custom should be followed because it is custom, and +because it is found to be established, without inquiry whether it +be reasonable or not.” Yet he puts in a caveat, as we +shall see more fully afterwards, just when he seems most to have +identified himself with the representative of scepticism. +In blindly following custom, he reserves “those matters +which are not contrary to natural or divine right;” and the +root of custom, even in the popular mind, he believes to be a dim +sense of justice. Again, in a similar vein, <!-- page +176--><a name="page176"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 176</span>he +asks, “Why follow ancient laws and ancient opinions? +<i>Are they wiser</i>? <i>No</i>. But they stand +apart from present interests; and <i>thus take away the root of +difference</i>.” Here, as so often, the moralist +supplants the sceptic, and suggests a higher thought, while +seeming to approve of a superficial Pyrrhonism.</p> +<p>It is easy, in one sense, to make out a case of scepticism +against Pascal. He always writes strongly. There is +passion in all his thought. He had a strong and deep sense +of human weakness, and incapacity to attain the highest +truth. He spoke of the philosophy of Descartes without +respect. With most of the Port Royalists, indeed, he seems +to have concurred in the Cartesian doctrine of automata, <a +name="citation176"></a><a href="#footnote176" +class="citation">[176]</a> strangely revived in our day by +Professor Huxley. But he repudiated the notion <!-- page +177--><a name="page177"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 177</span>of +“subtle matter,” and even spoke of it with contempt +(<i>dont il se moquait fort</i>). “He could not +bear,” his niece tells us, in a passage often quoted and +emphasised, “the Cartesian manner of explaining the +formation of all things.” “I cannot forgive +Descartes,” he said. “He would willingly in all +his philosophy have done without God, if he could; but he could +not get on without letting him give the world a fillip to set it +agoing: after that, he has nothing more to do with +God.” Whether he had studied Descartes or not, he +evidently did not share the enthusiasm of Arnauld and others for +his philosophy. He even spoke of it as “useless, +uncertain, and troublesome—nay, as ridiculous.” <a +name="citation177"></a><a href="#footnote177" +class="citation">[177]</a> He has added, in that brusque, +rapid, forceful style characteristic of many of his Thoughts, +that “he did not think the whole of philosophy worth an +hour’s trouble.” Again: “To set light by +philosophy is the true philosophy.” When we look at +such expressions, and many others, it is not to be wondered at +that Pascal has been accused of scepticism. As he could not +forgive Descartes, so Cousin cannot forgive him for his +depreciation of Descartes. One who saw nothing in +Cartesianism or philosophy in general beyond what these rash +sentences, freshly restored in all their audacity, declare, could +be nothing but an “enemy of all philosophy.”</p> +<p>It is impossible not to feel that there is some ground for +this accusation, and that, if we were to draw our knowledge of +Pascal merely from such passages, Cousin makes out something of a +case against him. But many other passages, hardly less +emphatic, must make every candid reader pause before he comes to +any definite <!-- page 178--><a name="page178"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 178</span>conclusion on the subject, if it is +necessary to come to such a conclusion at all. It must +never be forgotten that we have nowhere the complete mind of +Pascal; that it was of the very nature of thoughts rapidly dashed +upon paper—as the very form of many we have quoted clearly +indicates they were—to be one-sided and often +extravagant. Pascal, of all men, is not to be measured by +his strong expressions. His intellectual nature, while +profound, was narrow and intense. He put his whole soul +into what moved him for the time; and a certain excess of +passionate intellectual emotion evidently speaks in some of the +most striking of the ‘Pensées.’ We may +imagine how in some—perhaps in many—cases they would +have been toned down had he lived to revise and refashion them +into a harmonious whole. That interior +elaboration,—“a kind of second creation of +genius,” as M. Faugère says—which no one else +may venture upon,—would undoubtedly have come from his own +masterly hand, if it had been given him to bring fragment to +fragment, and to fit them together into a complete fabric. +It would be a hard thing to judge any student, and especially a +student like Pascal, by the scattered notes of his library table; +and precious as these fragments are, we must remember that this +is their character, and nothing else. The fact that we now +have them in all their native <i>hardiesse</i> makes this caution +not the less but all the more necessary.</p> +<p>In passing on to consider more particularly Pascal’s +philosophical and religious attitude, we shall see more fully the +bearing of these remarks. Pascal, in point of fact, +embraces many points of view; and, if he leans sometimes to +scepticism, he sees also the strong side of <!-- page 179--><a +name="page179"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 179</span>what he +calls dogmatism or rational philosophy. The very +exaggerations of his language, now on this side and now on that, +show that he himself is more than either, as his own words +bear. “It is necessary,” he says, “to +have three qualities—those of the Pyrrhonist, of the +geometrician (the dogmatist), and of the humble Christian. +These unite with and attemper one another, so that we doubt when +we should, we aim at certainty when we should, and we submit when +we should.” He certainly thought that he had found a +surer road to truth than either Dogmatism or Pyrrhonism. +Whether he succeeded in doing so will appear as we proceed.</p> +<p>The famous conversation with De Saci, when he entered Port +Royal, must be taken as the chief key to Pascal’s own +philosophical attitude. There is nowhere in any of the +Thoughts so complete an exhibition of his point of view; and all +the editors who have most entered into Pascal’s +spirit—Sainte-Beuve, Faugère, and Havet +alike—have recognised its importance. It is really, +as Havet says, of the nature of an introduction to the +‘Pensées.’</p> +<p>In this conversation Pascal signalises what he believes to be +the two great opposing systems of human philosophy at all times; +the rational, dogmatic, or Stoical, on the one hand—the +sceptical, or Epicurean, on the other. He takes Epictetus +as the representative of the one; Montaigne as the representative +of the other. In depicting dogmatism at other times, he +seems to have Descartes especially in view; but in speaking of +scepticism and Pyrrhonism (which is his own expression), it is +always Montaigne that he has before him. Montaigne is +Pyrrhonist <i>par excellence</i>; and undoubtedly <!-- page +180--><a name="page180"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +180</span>the famous Essays had greatly fascinated Pascal, like +many others in his generation. He was constantly drawn to +them as embodying one, and that a deep, phase of his own +experience. He felt his own thought expressed in many pages +of Montaigne, and had that favour for the Essays that every +thoughtful man has for the book that makes his own experience +alive, and brings it clearly before him. But he has, at the +same time, made plainly intelligible his own differences from +Montaigne, and marked with his usual boldness the limitations of +his thought. If Pascal is Pyrrhonist, he is certainly not +Pyrrhonist after the manner of Montaigne, deeply as he responds +to many of the notes of the Essays, and at times seems to make +them his own.</p> +<p>The conversation with De Saci took place in 1654, when Pascal +first went to Port Royal des Champs, and De Saci became his +spiritual director. We owe its preservation to Fontaine, +from whose manuscript ‘Memoirs’ it was extracted, and +first published in 1728 by Des Molets. After all the labour +of Faugère, Havet believes himself to have given for the +first time the correct text of the conversation from the original +print of Des Molets, based on Fontaine’s manuscripts, +rather than from the text of the ‘Memoirs’ as +afterwards published. Fontaine describes in his +<i>naïve</i> manner the impression made by Pascal upon De +Saci, and how the brilliancy of power which had charmed all the +world could not be hidden within the shades of Port Royal. +Ignorant of the Fathers of the Church, he had found by his own +mental and spiritual penetration the very truths to be met with +in them; and De Saci seemed to see another St Augustine before +him in the wonderful talk of the gifted penitent. <!-- page +181--><a name="page181"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 181</span>It +was his practice in dealing with his penitents to adapt his +conversation to their peculiar powers. If he spoke with M. +Champagne, for example, he talked with him of painting. If +he saw M. Hamon, he inquired about the art of medicine. If +it was the surgeon of the place, he had something to say of +surgery. All was designed to lead the thoughts from all +human things up to God. With Pascal, therefore, it was +philosophy upon which his conversation fell, to try the depths of +his mind, and see what special direction he needed. +“Pascal told him that the two books most familiar to him +were Epictetus and Montaigne, and he lavished great praise on +both. M. de Saci had always wished to read these two +authors, and asked M. Pascal to explain them fully.”</p> +<blockquote><p>“Epictetus,” said Pascal, “is +one of the philosophers of the world who have best known the +duties of man. Above all things, he would have man regard +God as his chief object—to be persuaded that He governs all +things with righteousness—to submit to Him cordially, and +to follow Him willingly, as having made all things with perfect +wisdom. Such a disposition would stay all complaints and +murmurs, and prepare the human mind to bear quietly the most +troublesome events. ‘Never say,’ he observes +(Enchirid. 11), ‘I have lost that; say rather, I have +restored it. My son is dead; I have surrendered him. +My wife is dead; I have given her up.’ And so of +every other good. . . . While its use is permitted, regard +it as a good belonging to others, as a traveller does in an +inn. You should not wish,’ he adds, ‘that +things be as you desire, but you should desire them to be as they +are.’ . . . It is your duty to play well the part +assigned to you, but to choose the part is the act of +Another. Have always death before your eyes, and the evils +which are least supportable, and you would never think meanly of +anything, nor desire anything in excess. He shows in a +thousand ways what is the duty of man. He wishes him to be +humble, <!-- page 182--><a name="page182"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 182</span>to conceal his good resolutions, +especially in their beginnings, that he may carry them out in +secret. Nothing is so ruinous to them as publicity. +He never ceases to repeat that the whole duty and desire of man +ought to be to acknowledge the will of God, and to follow it.</p> +<p>“Such were the lights of this great mind, who has so +well understood the duties of man. I venture to say, that +he would have deserved to be adored if he had only known as well +human weakness; but in order to do this, he must have been God +Himself. Mere man as he was, after having so well explained +human duty, he loses himself in the presumption of human +capacity. He avers that God has given to every man the +means of acquitting himself of all his obligations; that such +means are always within his own power, that happiness is to be +sought by things within our reach, since God has given us them +for this very end. He points out in what our freedom +consists: goods, life, esteem are not in our power, and therefore +do not lead to God; but none can force the mind to believe what +is false, nor the will to love that which will make it +miserable. These two powers are therefore free; and by +these we can render ourselves perfect—know God perfectly, +love Him, obey Him, please Him—vanquish all vices, acquire +all virtues, and so make ourselves holy, and the fellows of +God. These principles, truly diabolic in their pride, lead +to other errors—such as that the soul is a portion of the +Divine substance, that grief and death are not evils, that we may +kill ourselves when we are in such trouble that we may believe +God summons us, etc.</p> +<p>“As for Montaigne—of whom you wish me also, my +dear sir, to speak—being born in a Christian country, he +makes profession of the Catholic religion, and so far there is +nothing peculiar about him. But in the search for a system +of morals dictated by reason without the light of faith, he has +to lay down his principles on this supposition, and to consider +man apart from revelation. He conceives things in such a +universal uncertainty that doubt itself is seized with +uncertainty, and doubts whether it doubts. His scepticism +returns upon itself in a perpetual circle without <!-- page +183--><a name="page183"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +183</span>repose, opposing equally those who maintain that all is +uncertain, and those who maintain that nothing is, so utterly +indisposed is he to any fixity. In this doubt which doubts +itself, and this ignorance which is ignorant of itself, is to be +found the essence of his thought. He cannot express it by +any positive term; for if he was to say that he doubts, he +betrays himself by making it certain that he doubts; and this +being formally against his intention, he can only explain himself +by an interrogation. Not wishing to say, I do not know, he +can only ask, What do I know? He has made this his device, +putting it under a pair of balances, which, weighted in each +scale by a contradiction, hangs in perfect equilibrium. In +other words, he is pure Pyrrhonist. This is the point round +which turn all his discourses and all his essays. This is +the only thing which he leaves fixed, although he may not always +keep it before him. . . .</p> +<p>“It is in this humour, fluctuating and variable as it +is, that he combats with an invincible firmness the heretics of +his time, who assumed to know the exclusive sense of +Scripture. From the same point of view he thunders +vigorously against the horrible impiety of those who dare to be +certain that there is no God! He attacks them especially in +the ‘Apology for Raymond de Sebonde.’ Having +voluntarily set aside revelation, and abandoned themselves to +their natural light—all faith set aside—he asks them +on what authority they, who know not the essential reality of +anything, dare to judge of that Sovereign Being who is infinite +by His very definition. He demands upon what principles +they rest, and presses them to point them out. He examines +all that they bring forward, and so searches them by his +wonderful penetration as to show the hollowness of what passes +for the most clear and established truths. He inquires if +the soul knows anything whatever—if it knows itself; +whether it is substance or accident, body or spirit; what is each +of these things, and if there is anything belonging to some order +different from either; if the soul knows its own body; if it +knows what matter is, or can distinguish the innumerable +varieties of <!-- page 184--><a name="page184"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 184</span>body produced from matter; how it +can reason if it is material, and how it can be united to a +special body, and feel its passions if it be spiritual. +When did it begin to be, with the body or before, and if it ends +with it or not? . . . . The ideas of God and truth are +inseparable, and if the one is or is not, if the one is certain +or uncertain, the other is necessarily the same. Who knows +if the common sense (<i>le sens commun</i>) which we take as a +judge of the truth is really this, designed for such a +purpose? Who knows what truth is, and how can we be sure of +having it without knowing it? Who knows even what Being is, +since it is impossible to define it; and in trying to do so, it +is necessary to presuppose the very idea itself, and say <i>it +is</i>? . . .</p> +<p>“I confess, sir, I might look with joy upon the manner +in which the author invincibly crumples up proud reason with its +own arms. I could love with my whole heart the minister of +so mighty a vengeance if, as a faithful disciple of the Church, +he had followed its moral guidance. But he acts, on the +contrary, like a pagan, concluding that we ought to abandon care +for others and dwell in peace, gliding lightly over such subjects +lest we lose ourselves in them, and taking that to be true and +good which at first appears to be so. This is why he +follows everywhere the evidence of the senses and the notions of +the community. . . . In this manner, he says, there is +nothing extravagant in his conduct. He does as others +do. Whatever they do in the foolish thought that they are +following the true good, he does from another principle, that as +the probabilities (<i>vraisemblances</i>) are equally on one side +and the other, so example and convenience carry the day with +him. He mounts his horse like any one else—not as a +philosopher—because the horse allows him to do so, but +without thinking there is any right in the matter, and not +knowing whether the horse, on the contrary, may not be entitled +to make use of him. He puts constraint to himself in order +to shun certain vices; and even guards marriage faithfully, +merely on account of the disorder which would otherwise follow. . +. .</p> +<p>“I cannot dissemble that in reading Montaigne, and <!-- +page 185--><a name="page185"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +185</span>comparing him with Epictetus, I find in them the two +greatest defenders of the most celebrated sects of the world, who +profess to follow reason rather than revelation. We must +follow one or other. Either there is a God and a Sovereign +Good, or this is uncertain, and all is uncertain,—whether +there is any true good or not. . . .</p> +<p>“The error in both is, in not seeing that the present +state of man differs from that in which he was created. The +one, observing only the traces of his primitive grandeur, and +ignoring his corruption, has treated human nature as if it were +whole, without any need of a Redeemer—this leads to the +height of pride; the other, sensible of man’s present +misery, and ignorant of his original dignity, treats human nature +as necessarily weak and irreparable, and thus, in despair of +attaining any true good, plunges it into a depth of +baseness.” <a name="citation185"></a><a href="#footnote185" +class="citation">[185]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>These two states, Pascal goes on to argue, must be taken +together before the truth can be reached. Apart, they give +a false picture of man; and generate on the one hand pride, on +the other hand immorality. It is only the Gospel which +unites them, in a right manner, “by a divine +art.” It brings together the opposites, and explains, +by a wondrous, truly heavenly way, how they may coexist, not as +attributes of the same subject, as systems of human philosophy +have made them, but as different endowments—the one of +nature, the other of grace. “Behold the new and +surprising union which God alone could teach and alone +accomplish, and which is only an image and an effect of the +ineffable union of two natures in the one person of the +God-man.”</p> +<p>In these latter sentences—which we have been obliged, +for the sake of brevity, to compress—we have the suggestion +of Pascal’s philosophy both of human nature and <!-- page +186--><a name="page186"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 186</span>of +Divine revelation. He recurs over and over again to the +same idea, that man is great and yet weak, full of capacity and +yet miserable, and that the Gospel alone holds the key to this +enigma of human nature. This, more than any other, is the +pervading thought round which all the others gather.</p> +<blockquote><p>“This twofoldness +(<i>duplicité</i>),” he says, “is so visible, +that some have conceived that man must have two souls—a +simple subject appearing to them incapable of such and so sudden +variations; an immeasurable presumption on the one hand, a +horrible abasement on the other. In spite of all the +miseries which cleave to us, and hold us, as it were, by the +throat (<i>nous tiennent à la gorge</i>), there is within +us an irrepressible instinct which exalts us. The greatness +of man is so visible that it may be deduced from his very +misery. His very miseries prove his greatness. They +are the miseries of a great lord, of a dethroned sovereign. +The greatness of man consists in his knowledge of his +misery. A tree does not know itself to be miserable. . . +. He is miserable—the fact is beyond question; but he +is great in knowing it.” <a name="citation186"></a><a +href="#footnote186" class="citation">[186]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Again, reverting to the very same line of thought, as in the +conversation with De Saci—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Philosophers have propounded sentiments not +at all adapted to the twofold condition of man. They have +sought to inspire emotions of pure greatness; but this is not +man’s condition. They have sought on the other hand +to inspire sentiments of mere baseness; but neither is this +man’s condition. Man needs abasement, not of nature, +however, but of penitence; not that he remain degraded, but that +he may rise to greatness. He needs to feel within him the +emotion of greatness,—not of merit, however, but of grace. +. . . Two sects have sprung out of this conflict between +reason and sense in man. The one, in renouncing passion, +has aspired to <!-- page 187--><a name="page187"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 187</span>divinity; the other, in renouncing +reason, has sunk to mere brutality. . . . The principles of +the respective philosophies are so far true—Pyrrhonism, +Stoicism, Atheism even. But the conclusions are false, +because the opposite principles are equally true. . . . We +labour under an incapacity of demonstrating all things invincible +to Dogmatism. We have an innate idea of truth invincible to +all Pyrrhonism. . . . Nature confounds the Pyrrhonist, and +reason the Dogmatist;”—</p> +</blockquote> +<p>or, as the passage was originally written,—</p> +<blockquote><p>“We cannot be Pyrrhonists without violating +nature; we cannot be Dogmatists without renouncing nature.” +<a name="citation187"></a><a href="#footnote187" +class="citation">[187]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>These and other passages sufficiently show Pascal’s +relation to philosophy, and to Pyrrhonism in particular. He +is no enemy of philosophy, but he certainly does not believe it +capable of explaining the riddle of human nature. He is so +far from being a Pyrrhonist in the sense of resting on +Pyrrhonism, that he seeks to mount on its shoulders to a higher +truth. Nay, he clearly recognises that man has an inborn +faculty for truth which not all the contradictions of his +experience can belie. We may and must doubt as to many +things; but there are principles lying at the root of human life +which are invincible to all doubt. We can demonstrate many +things; but there are natural realities beyond our power of +demonstration. On the side of sense, all things seem to +fluctuate and waver in uncertainty; on the side of mere intellect +we soon cross the limit of our powers. But Humanity is more +than either sense or intellect. There is, as he believes, a +primitive endowment of spiritual instinct in man, which looks +forth upon <!-- page 188--><a name="page188"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 188</span>a higher world of reality. +Repeatedly, and in various applications, he recurs to these three +radical sides or elements of Humanity; “the +sensible—the intellectual, or the exercise of reason left +to itself—and the spiritual or divine.” Pascal +despairs of a philosophy which is either a mere generalisation of +sensible experience, or which aims at demonstrating everything +from a purely rational point of view; but he is so far from +resting in mere intellectual doubt, that he tries to find a +ground for human certitude in a deeper stratum of Humanity than +either sense or what he calls “reason.” Neander +and others have vindicated for him a supreme position as a +philosopher on this very account. With them he is not only +no sceptic, but he stands forth among the men who have specially +vindicated the claims of Humanity as endowed with the divine +attributes of “spirit” and +“will”—the men of “full mental +healthiness” who have recognised in man a free spiritual +life no less than a life of sense and intellect. This may +or may not be. But the mere fact that Pascal has aimed at a +deeper ground of certitude, whether he has made it clear or not, +and whether or not he has spoken with undue depreciation of other +sources of knowledge, should be enough to vindicate him from the +charge of even philosophical scepticism. In the following +passage he has explained his views more fully. More than +any other, perhaps, it may be taken as the text of his +philosophy.</p> +<blockquote><p>“We discover truth,” he says, +“not only by reasoning, but by feeling (<i>le +cœur</i>); and it is in this latter manner that we discover +first principles—and in vain does reasoning, which has no +share in their production, try to combat these principles. +The Pyrrhonists, who attempt this, labour in vain. <!-- +page 189--><a name="page189"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +189</span>We know that we are not deceived, however incapable we +may be of proving so by any power of reasoning. This +incapacity only demonstrates the weakness of our reasoning +faculty, and not the incertitude of all our knowledge, as they +pretend. Nay, our knowledge of first principles, such as +the ideas of <i>space</i>, <i>time</i>, <i>motion</i>, +<i>number</i>, is as certain as any obtained by reasoning. +It is, in fact, upon such conclusions of feeling and instinct +that Reason must ultimately rest and base all its +arguments. We <i>feel</i> that there are three dimensions +in space, and that numbers are infinite; and reason hence +demonstrates that there are no two square numbers the one of +which is double the other. Principles are felt, +propositions deduced, and both with certitude, although in +different ways. And it is as absurd for the +‘reason’ to demand of the ‘heart’ proofs +of its first principles before asserting them, as it would be for +the ‘heart’ to demand of the ‘reason’ a +<i>feeling</i> of all propositions that she demonstrates before +accepting them. This weakness, therefore, should only serve +to humble reason in its desire to make itself judge of +everything, but by no means to moderate the certitude of our +conviction, as if reason were alone capable of instructing +us.” <a name="citation189"></a><a href="#footnote189" +class="citation">[189]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>There may be something to object to in Pascal’s mode of +expression in the above passage. Cousin has made the most +of his confusion of “reason” and +“reasoning”—“la raison” and +“le raisonnement.” The expression “le +cœur,” by which he designates the higher faculty of +intuition, may be inadequate and misleading—complex and +disturbing in its association. But withal, his attitude in +favour of a ground of certainty in human knowledge is +unmistakable. So far he is not only not with Montaigne, but +he is clearly against him. The rights of nature, as he +says, rise up against the Pyrrhonist. They make themselves +good. And however strongly Pascal may <!-- page 190--><a +name="page190"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 190</span>draw the +picture of human weakness, and all the contrarieties which our +nature encloses, he does not mean by this to strike at the roots +of all knowledge, and leave man a prey to helpless doubt. +He means merely to shake the throne of rational security, and to +show that no conclusions of mere philosophy can reach all the +exigencies of man’s condition. His analysis of human +nature is the analysis of a moralist, and not of a psychologist +or rational philosopher. He looks at man always as a +spiritual being. It is his spiritual capacity which alone +makes him great, and yet intensifies all the lower contradictions +of his nature. It is “thought alone which makes +man’s greatness.” A man can be conceived +“without hands or feet or head, but not without +thought.”</p> +<blockquote><p>“The possession of the earth would not add +to my greatness. As to space, the universe encloses and +absorbs me as a mere point, but by thought I embrace it. . . +. Man is but a reed, the feeblest of created +things—but one possessing thought (<i>un roseau +pensant</i>). It needs not that the universe should arm +itself to crush him. A breath, a drop of water, suffices +for his destruction. But were the whole universe to rise +against him, man is yet greater than the universe, since man +<i>knows</i> that he dies. He knows the universe prevails +against him. The universe knows nothing of its +power.” <a name="citation190"></a><a href="#footnote190" +class="citation">[190]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is hardly possible to speak more eloquently of the dignity +of human nature. And if it is the same voice which speaks +in such pathetic or it may be harsh tones of human weakness and +misery, and the disproportions of our natural life, it is the +very consciousness of greatness that inspires the consciousness +of misery. Looking from such a height of human dignity, he +sees all the depths of <!-- page 191--><a +name="page191"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 191</span>human +baseness. It is this higher spirit which consecrates Pascal +as a moralist. Has he rebuked the presumptions of humanity? +has he called upon proud reason to humble itself? has he gibed +human philosophy, and even gloried for a moment in the +contradictions of empiricism? It is never that he may laugh +at man, or that he may rest in the mere contemplation of his +follies or extravagances, but because he himself profoundly +realised the height and the depth of his being—the grandeur +to which he could rise, or to which God could raise him, and the +baseness and miseries to which he could sink. Doubtless, as +with all concentrated and meditative natures, Pascal delights to +dwell on the weaker and gloomier side of humanity. This was +partly the result of his Jansenist leanings, but mainly it came +from his own intense reality of feeling. It was bred of his +austere sadness of heart, and is found to run as a note of +profound constitutional melancholy through all his letters, and +all his life, as well as his Thoughts. In the view of +eternity, and of the awful issues involved in religion, the +common life and pursuits of man seemed to him not only frivolous, +but criminal. He looked forth, therefore, on this common +life with eyes not only of tears, but of displeasure. He +seemed even at times to derive something of stern satisfaction +from its very follies and absurdities. But this is only the +temporary mood of the profound moralist touched to his heart by +pangs that he cannot resist. His true view of life is never +cynical,—but always grave, if bitter—and hopeful, if +stern.</p> +<p>Pascal’s supposed philosophical scepticism admits of +something of the same explanation. He has not only no wish +to disturb the fundamental verities of human <!-- page 192--><a +name="page192"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 192</span>thought, +but he endeavours to fix them in an ineradicable instinct or +universal “sense,” against which all the assaults of +Pyrrhonism must break. But the while he is himself deeply +moved by the perplexities of human reason. Although no +Pyrrhonist in thought, he knows too well in experience the depths +of Pyrrhonism. His mind is one of those to be met with in +all ages, which, while it clings to faith, and is even strong in +the assertion of faith’s claims, is yet in certain moments +utterly distracted by doubt. Constantly searching the +foundations of human knowledge,—sifting them as with +lighted glance,—they seemed to him at times to crumble away +before him. Nothing remained fixed to his piercing +look. As few minds have experienced, he felt the awful +darkness which encloses all mortal aspiration, and the keenest +audacities of human speculation. The incapacities of human +reason at such times overwhelmed him, and left him hopeless, or, +still worse, in a half-derisive mood. And these moods, as +well as his clearer and more elaborate thoughts, hastily +transferred to paper, are found amongst his notes. It is +quite impossible to vindicate his consistency, and it is not in +the least necessary to do this, as already explained; while we +feel bound to maintain that his higher mood is his true mood, and +that the Pascal of the ‘Pensées’—the +veritable Pascal—is to be judged, not by his weakness but +by his strength; by his moments of clear mental sanity and +insight, and not by his moments of despair or of derisive mockery +of all human philosophy.</p> +<p>This seems to us the true light in which to regard the famous +wager-essay on the existence of God, which has been a scandal +even to some of his greatest admirers. It <!-- page +193--><a name="page193"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 193</span>is +impossible to defend this essay on any principle of sound +philosophy. Either there is a God or there is not. +Which side of the question shall we take? +“Reason,” he says, “cannot decide.” +The fact, he means, cannot be demonstrated according to his +customary use of the word reason. But if it cannot, there +must yet be a balance of reason, and proof on one side or the +other. And the only fair and manly issue of such a question +must be, On which side lies this balance? A valid theistic +conclusion can be found in no other way, and least of all in any +calculation of chances, or balance of self-interest. And +yet it is this last which Pascal has put forward with such +prominence in this famous essay. “Wager,” he +says. “If you win, you win everything; if you lose, +you lose nothing. Wager, then, without hesitation, that God +exists. . . . On one side is an eternity of life, of +infinite blessedness to be gained, and what you stake is finite. +. . . Our proposition is, that the finite is to be vested +in a wager, in which there is an equal chance of gain and loss, +and <i>infinitude to gain</i>.” The play was hardly +worthy of Pascal, and the ‘mystery of the game’ could +certainly never be unravelled in any such way. But not a +few minds like Pascal’s—with deep spiritual +intuitions and yet a craving for scientific certainty constantly +mocking these intuitions—have felt in a similar manner the +hazard of the great question, and may have said to themselves, +“We must take our stand, and this is the side which weighs +in the balance. We can lose nothing; we may gain +everything.” The mood is not a lofty one, and it is +no higher in Pascal than in any one else; but there are moments +of terrible doubt, when the soul is so borne away on the surge of +the sceptical <!-- page 194--><a name="page194"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 194</span>wave that rises from the depth of +all human speculation, that it can only cling to the Divine by an +effort of will, and with something of the gamester’s +thought that this is the winning side! The thought may be +shallow and poor in itself, but in such cases it comes not out of +the shallows but out of the depths of a mind torn by distracting +doubts in the face of the dreadful problems of life.</p> +<p>Out of the same depth of spiritual experience and trenchant +moral analysis comes all that is true and valuable in his +so-called ‘Apology.’ That the +‘Pensées’ were more or less designed to form +such an Apology—to be woven into the plan of a treatise in +defence of the Christian religion—seems beyond doubt. +He had himself, according to the statement of his nephew, +unfolded such a plan to his friends, in a lengthened conversation +about the year 1657 or 1659. They were charmed with the +loftiness of his design, and listened to his exposition of it for +two or three hours with unabated interest. He was to +commence with an analysis of human nature, and to advance from +the contemplation of its mysteries, obscurities, and +perplexities, to the consideration of the various methods, +philosophical and religious, by which reason had endeavoured to +meet the difficulties of thought and life. After explaining +the inconclusiveness and absurdities of these +methods—represented by the diverse philosophies and +religions of the world—he was to call attention to the +Jewish religion, and the superiority which it presents to all +others, both in the extraordinary circumstances of its history, +and in the revelation which it gives of one God, Creator and +Governor of the world, and of the origin of man—his +primitive innocence and fall. The idea of the fall, which +was a central one in all <!-- page 195--><a +name="page195"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +195</span>Pascal’s thoughts, was to be fully expounded, in +its own character and as “the source not only of whatever +is most inexplicable in man’s nature, but also of a +multitude of things, external to him, of which he knows not the +causes.” From the fall he was to pass to the hopes of +deliverance revealed in the Old Testament, and especially the +lofty conception which it gives of God as a God of love, a +feature peculiar to it, and “which he deemed the essence of +true religion.”</p> +<p>From such general considerations—of the nature of +prolegomena or “preparation” for the reader’s +mind—he proceeded to furnish a brief view of “the +positive proofs of the truths he wanted to +establish,—proofs derived from the authenticity of the +books of Moses, especially the miracles they record, the figures +and types they embody.” He then went on more at +length to prove the truth of religion from prophecy, which he is +represented as having studied deeply, and certain views of which, +“of a nature wholly original,” he explained with +great clearness. Finally, “after going through the +books of the Old Testament,” he advanced to those of the +New, “and deduced from them his crowning proofs of the +truths of the Gospel.” He began with Christ, whose +divine mission he already supposed to be established by the +argument from prophecy, and added additional force of evidence +from His resurrection, His miracles, His doctrines, and the tenor +of His life; then from the character and mission of the apostles; +and lastly, from the style and manner of the New Testament books, +and especially of the Gospels, “the multitude of miracles, +martyrs, and the saints,”—in a word, from all +“by which the Christian religion is so triumphantly +established.”</p> +<p><!-- page 196--><a name="page196"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +196</span>It is needless to say how imperfectly this design was +ever accomplished; and no ingenuity of restoration can make of +Pascal’s apologetic plan anything but a mass of imperfect +fragments. Yet he has left us a definite series of Thoughts +on the Jewish religion, on Miracles, Figures, and Prophecy, and +also on Jesus Christ and the general character of the Christian +religion. In these Thoughts, it must be admitted, there is +but little to reward our study in comparison with those of a more +introductory and philosophical nature. Pascal’s +genius was in no degree historical, and but slightly +critical—not to mention that the very idea of historical +criticism had not emerged in his time, nor long afterwards. +While realising so profoundly the perplexities of human +experience, he has no conception of the difficulties that beset +historical tradition; nor do his habits of scientific +investigation, and the natural severity and logical rigour of his +mind, seem to have suggested to him any misgivings as to the +prevalence of miraculous agency in the world. The perfect +faith with which he accepted the “miracle” of the +Holy Thorn is a sufficient indication of his state of mind in +this respect, and how ready he was to accept evidence the very +idea of which merely excites a smile of wonder in the modern +mind.</p> +<p>It cannot be said, therefore, to be any matter of regret that +Pascal did not live to complete the historical portion of his +projected work,—what he seems himself, from the report of +his friends, to have considered the main structure of the defence +he intended to rear on behalf of the religion so dear to +him. He expended his real strength on the portico to the +designed temple. His genius fitted <!-- page 197--><a +name="page197"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 197</span>him to deal +with this, and with this alone, in any adequate manner. His +moral analysis, at once keen and veracious, enabled him not only +to lay bare all the “disproportions” of humanity, +but, moreover, to unfold the adaptation of Christianity as a +spiritual system to meet and remedy these disproportions. +This is the real “apologetic” work of the +‘Pensées,’ and the only one for which +Pascal’s mind pre-eminently fitted him. He sees in +the Gospel a Divine Power which is capable of ministering to +man’s higher wants—a power of infinite compassion +towards human weakness and misery, of infinite help for the one +and remedy for the other. The Christian religion, according +to him, alone “understands at once man’s greatness +and degradation, and the reason of both the one and the +other.” “It is equally important for man to +know his capacity of being like God and his unworthiness of +Him. To know of God without knowing his misery, or to know +his misery without knowing the Redeemer, who alone can deliver +him from it, is alike dangerous. The one knowledge +constitutes the pride of the philosopher, the other the despair +of the atheist. Man must therefore have the double +experience, and so it has pleased God to reveal it. This +the Christian religion does; in this it consists.” +Again: “Christ is the centre in which alone we find at once +God and our misery. In Him alone we have a God whom we must +approach without pride, and before whom we may yet bow without +despair.” In another and more lengthened passage he +brings the two ideas of human corruption and divine redemption +closely together, the one as supplementary of the other, and +expressly <!-- page 198--><a name="page198"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 198</span>emphasises the perfection with which +Christianity fits so to speak, into all the wards of the human +enigma,—in comparison with every system of human +philosophy.</p> +<blockquote><p>“Without divine knowledge,” he says, +“what have men been able to do save to exalt themselves in +the consciousness of their original greatness, or abase +themselves in the view of their present weakness? Unable to +see the whole truth, they have never attained to perfect +virtue. One class considering nature as incorrupt, another +as irreparable, they have been alternately the victims of pride +or sensuality—the two sources of all vice. . . . If, +in one case, they recognised man’s excellence, they ignored +his corruption; and so, in escaping indulgence, they lost +themselves in pride. In the other case, in acknowledging +his weakness they ignored his dignity, and, while escaping +vanity, plunged into despair. Hence the diverse sects of +Stoics and Epicureans, of Dogmatists and Academicians, etc. +The Christian religion alone can reconcile these discrepancies +and cure both evils, not by expelling the one by the other, +according to the wisdom of this world, but by expelling both the +one and the other by the simplicity of the Gospel. For it +teaches the just that while it elevates them even to be partakers +of the divine nature, they still carry with them in this lofty +state the source of all their corruption, making them during life +subjects of error, misery, death, and sin. At the same +time, it proclaims to the most impious that they are capable of +becoming partakers of a Redeemer’s grace. By thus +warning those whom it justifies, and consoling those whom it +condemns, it tempers with just measure fear and hope, through the +twofold capacity in all of grace and sin; so that it abases +infinitely more than reason, yet without producing despair, and +exalts infinitely more than natural pride, yet without puffing +up,—plainly showing that it alone is exempt from all error +and wrong, and possesses the power at once of instructing and +correcting men. Who, then, can withhold his belief in this +revelation, or refuse to adore its celestial light? For is +<!-- page 199--><a name="page199"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +199</span>it not more clear than day that we feel in ourselves +the ineffaceable traces of divine excellence? And it is +equally clear that we experience every hour the effects of our +fall and ruin. What, then, comes to us from all this chaos +and wild confusion, in a voice of irresistible conviction, but +the irrefragable truth of both those sides of humanity?” <a +name="citation199"></a><a href="#footnote199" +class="citation">[199]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>This passage conveys very clearly at once the gist of +Pascal’s philosophy and the chief merit of his line of +Christian apology. The two cannot be separated. They +run constantly into one another. He was a Christian +apologist in so far as he was a Christian philosopher; and those +who reject his line of Christian defence, will also reject his +whole mode of thought. To him the only solution of human +perplexity in thought and life is Christ. He is the +“object and centre of all things, in whom alone all +contradictions are reconciled.” This is the +conclusion of his intelligence, and not of his despair. +Whatever may be the traces of scepticism in his intellectual +nature, it is doing him great injustice to represent his +acceptance of Christianity as a mere refuge from +uncertainty. He is a totally different man from Huet, with +whom Cousin has ventured to compare him in this respect. He +never dallies on the surface; mere traditionalism has but a +slight hold of him. He is a Christian not because he has +been taught Christianity, or because the Church as a divine +institution claims his allegiance. All these influences may +have affected him, and given a turn to his mind; but they do not +touch the essence of his thoughts. Anything he does say of +the external claims of Christianity has but little weight. +It is out of the depths of his own spiritual experience that his +<!-- page 200--><a name="page200"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +200</span>faith is born. It is a voice within him, a +conflicting cry of weakness and aspiration going up everywhere +from humanity, that find their answer in Christ. There is +the enigma of man on the one side, to him otherwise hopeless, and +Christ on the other, holding the keys of the enigma in His +hand. The solution appeared to him perfect, according to +his study and analysis of the problem—the twofoldness that +he found in man, of divine dignity on the one hand, and +frivolous, sensual degradation on the other. Both facts, he +says, are equally clear and certain. Man’s fall from +a state of divine innocence alone explains them; and the Gospel +alone recognises the one side as well as the other of human +nature, and provides a Power capable of restoring its true +balance and rectifying all its disorder. He felt in himself +the might of this power healing all the wounds of his own heart, +and binding up the shreds of his Christian efforts “to do +justly, and love mercy, and walk humbly with God.” +Whether we agree with all his analyses, or recognise all the +adaptations which he describes, it is impossible not to feel that +they were living to him, and that he saw in Christianity not +merely a refuge for the disappointed heart, but a true philosophy +of life—the only “sure and sound philosophy,” +as Justin Martyr had found long before him.</p> +<p>It is in the same spirit that he writes in many of his later +‘Pensées.’ Some of the passages already +quoted are in fact taken from the chapter “On the Christian +Religion,” which appears to have been intended to form one +of the concluding chapters of his Apology. But he repeats +over and over again the same strain—that the present +condition of man is only intelligible in the light <!-- page +201--><a name="page201"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 201</span>of +the Christian revelation, and that this revelation alone answers +to all man’s necessities. Christ has not only +proclaimed a higher truth to man, which man is bound to accept +under penalties of default. This tone is also found +sometimes, but comparatively seldom. The prevailing note +is, that there is an admirable fitness between the two—the +mysteries of human nature witnessing to the divine veracity of +the Gospel, and the Gospel again holding the only key to these +mysteries, and the only power of unravelling them and restoring +them to their divine original. “Jesus Christ,” +he says, “is for all men; Moses for one +people.” “The knowledge of God without a +knowledge of our misery produces pride; that of our misery +without God leads to despair. The knowledge of Jesus is the +means by which we at once find God and our misery.” +“Without Jesus Christ man is sunk in vice and misery. . . +. In Him is all our virtue and felicity.”</p> +<p>Of the more directly apologetic ‘Pensées’ +of Pascal there are many of great significance and interest, +slight as may be the value of his general historical argument, so +far as this can be traced. Wherever he trusts to his own +clear judgment and profound penetration, he throws out sentences +weighty with meaning, and capable of being expanded into trains +of argument. Our shortening space warns us that our +quotations must come to an end; but the reader may thank us for +drawing his attention to the following:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Even when Epictetus had discovered the +right way, he could only say to man, ‘You follow a wrong +one.’ He shows that there is another, but he does not +lead to it. . . . Jesus Christ alone leads to +it—<i>via</i>, <i>veritas</i>.</p> +<p><!-- page 202--><a name="page202"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +202</span>“Jesus Christ has spoken great things so simply +that they seem to have cost Him little thought—and yet so +fitly that we see well what His thought was.” [This +combination of clearness and <i>naïveté</i> is +admirable.]</p> +<p>“The apostles were either deceived or deceivers; either +supposition is full of difficulty.</p> +<p>“What right have they to say, ‘It is impossible +that we should rise again’? Which is the more +difficult to be—to be born, or to be raised from the +dead? Is it less difficult to come into being than to +return to being? Custom (experience) renders the one easy +to us; the want of custom makes the other seem impossible. +But <i>this is a popular way of judging</i>.</p> +<p>“Who taught the evangelists the qualities of a truly +heroic soul, that they should paint it to such perfection in +Jesus Christ? Why have they made Him weak in His +agony? Did they not know how to describe a death of +fortitude? Assuredly; for it is the same St Luke paints St +Stephen’s death as so much braver than that of Jesus +Christ. They have made Him capable of fear before the +necessity of death had come, then entirely calm and brave. +But when they show Him in trouble, the trouble comes from +Himself; in the face of men He remains unmoved.</p> +<p>“The highest achievement of reason is to recognise that +there is an infinity of things which surpass its powers.</p> +<p>“If we submit everything to reason, our religion would +have nothing mysterious or supernatural. If we violate the +principles of reason, our religion will be absurd and +ridiculous.</p> +<p>“There are two extremes—to exclude reason, and to +admit only reason.</p> +<p>“It is your own consent, and the steady voice of your +own reason, and not that of others, which must make you +believe.</p> +<p>“If antiquity was the rule of faith, the ancients were +without a rule.</p> +<p>“Let them say what they will, it must be confessed that +the Christian religion is something astonishing. +‘That is because you were born in it,’ they +say. So far from this, I <!-- page 203--><a +name="page203"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 203</span>am on my +guard against it on this very account, lest this incline me +unduly to it. But though I was born in it, the facts are +not the less as I find them.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>True to his whole conception of religion as the free choice of +the heart and will, Pascal does not find any special difficulty +in the fact of so many rejecting Christianity. It is of its +very nature that it cannot be forced on any mind. The God +of the Gospel can only be reached by faith. To all without +faith, or the inner eye to see Him, He is a <i>Deus +absconditus</i>, “a God who hides himself.” In +one of his letters to Mademoiselle de Roannez, he dwells upon +this idea, which also continually recurs in his +Thoughts:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“If God continually revealed Himself to man, +faith would have no value; we could not help believing. If +He did not reveal Himself, there could be no such thing as +faith. While hiding Himself, He yet reveals Himself to +those who are willing to be His servants. . . . All things +hide a mystery. All are a veil which conceal God. The +Christian must recognise Him in all. . . . There is light +enough for those who wish to see, but darkness enough for those +who are of an opposite disposition. . . . For God would +rather move the will than the intellect. Perfect clearness +would cure the one, but injure the other.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And so this great mind comes round once more to its central +thought, that religion is born not of science, but of love and +faith. Christianity appeared to Pascal divine—as the +only true interpreter of human experience; and where this +experience bore no witness to it, and found no blessing in it, +the fault and the misery were its own. The divine light was +not gone because men did not see it, when they were not willing +to see it. <!-- page 204--><a name="page204"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 204</span>This may seem a hard saying,—a +paradox of faith rejoicing in its own illumination, rather than +an utterance of reason challenging the world. But can a +divine appeal ever go further? Christian apology has its +own sphere, no less than science; and the evidence which the one +desiderates is not the supreme life and power of the other. +It may not on this account be the less satisfactory or the less +rational when the whole life of humanity is looked at.</p> +<p>If we ask ourselves, in conclusion, what is the chief charm of +the ‘Pensées,’ we feel inclined to +answer,—their touching reality. They are the +utterances of one who thought not only deeply but +passionately. A strange thrill of personal emotion runs +through them all, animating them with vitality, even when +one-sided or extravagant. One of his own countrymen <a +name="citation204"></a><a href="#footnote204" +class="citation">[204]</a> has said of Pascal that it was his +mission to do for theology what Socrates did for +philosophy—to bring it down from heaven to earth. And +certainly there is the breathing movement as of a human heart +through his whole writings. More than anything else, it is +this vitality combined with his exquisite literary art which sets +him above all his friends and contemporaries—Arnauld, De +Saci, Le Maitre, Nicole, or Fontaine. Still, when we read +the ‘Provincial Letters’ or the +‘Pensées,’ we feel ourselves in communion with +a living writer who knew how to light up with an immortal touch +both the follies of ecclesiasticism and the struggles of a +solitary spirit after truth. The tenderness of a genuine +insight mingles with all the sublimity <!-- page 205--><a +name="page205"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 205</span>and severe +reserve of the thought, and so we get close to a true soul, +distant as Pascal himself in some respects remains to us. +The play of human feeling which we miss in the man moves in his +writings, and touches our hearts with an ineffable sympathy, even +when we remain unconvinced or unenlightened.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">end of +pascal</span>.</p> +<h2>NOTES.</h2> +<p><a name="footnote3"></a><a href="#citation3" +class="footnote">[3]</a> Lettres, Opuscules, et +Mémoires de Madame Périer et de Jacqueline, +Sœurs de Pascal, et de Marguerite Périer, sa +nièce; publiés sur les Manuscrits originaux, par M. +P. Faugère. Paris, 1845.</p> +<p><a name="footnote4a"></a><a href="#citation4a" +class="footnote">[4a]</a> Jacqueline Pascal, par M. Victor +Cousin. Troisième éd. 1856. +Lélut, L’Amulette de Pascal. Paris, 1846.</p> +<p><a name="footnote4b"></a><a href="#citation4b" +class="footnote">[4b]</a> Sainte-Beuve. Port +Royal. Tom. ii. iii. Mr Beard, in his two volumes on +Port Royal, gives an excellent sketch of Blaise and Jacqueline +Pascal, in which he has made a diligent use of all the recent +French authorities on the subject.</p> +<p><a name="footnote4c"></a><a href="#citation4c" +class="footnote">[4c]</a> British Quarterly Review, August +1850.</p> +<p><a name="footnote5"></a><a href="#citation5" +class="footnote">[5]</a> The Provincial Parliaments in +France before the Revolution discharged within a definite area +the same judicial and administrative functions as the Parliament +of Paris; but they were always regarded as offshoots of the +latter, and subordinate to its supreme direction. They +possessed no lawful political powers. Lalanne, Dictionnaire +Historique, Art. “Parl.,” p. 1421. The +“Court of Aides,” according to the same authority, p. +32, decided in the last resort civil and criminal processes +relating to subsidies, assessments, and taxes in general, and +superintended the collection of the royal revenues.</p> +<p><a name="footnote6a"></a><a href="#citation6a" +class="footnote">[6a]</a> Gilberte Pascal—Madame +Périer—says, in her life of her brother, 1626. +Marguerite Périer, her daughter, Pascal’s niece, +says 1628. Cousin (B. Pascal), App. I. 315. +Faugère, Lettres, Opuscules, etc., p. 419.</p> +<p><a name="footnote6b"></a><a href="#citation6b" +class="footnote">[6b]</a> Cousin, Jacqueline Pascal, p. +23.</p> +<p><a name="footnote7"></a><a href="#citation7" +class="footnote">[7]</a> Memoir by Marguerite +Périer, her daughter, quoted by Cousin, ibid., p. +24. “Do not think,” adds Cousin, “that +this portrait is embellished: the austere Marguerite flatters no +one; and if she, a Jansenist, says that her mother was beautiful, +we may be sure that she was very much so.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote10"></a><a href="#citation10" +class="footnote">[10]</a> “The exterior angle of a +triangle is equal to the two interior and opposite angles; and +the three interior angles are together equal to two right +angles.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote11"></a><a href="#citation11" +class="footnote">[11]</a> Baillet, Vie de Descartes, liv. +V. c. v. p. 39.</p> +<p><a name="footnote12"></a><a href="#citation12" +class="footnote">[12]</a></p> +<blockquote><p>“Ne vous étonnez pas, incomparable +Armand, <br /> +Si j’ai mal contenté vos yeux et vos oreilles; <br +/> +Mon esprit agité de frayeurs sans pareilles <br /> +Interdit à mon corps et voix et mouvement. <br /> +Mais pour me rendre ici capable de vous plaire, <br /> +Rappelez de l’exil mon misérable +père.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="footnote13"></a><a href="#citation13" +class="footnote">[13]</a> Cousin, Jacqueline Pascal, pp. +72–75.</p> +<p><a name="footnote15"></a><a href="#citation15" +class="footnote">[15]</a> The Intendant was a special Royal +Commissioner, sent into the provinces to watch over the +administration of justice and the finances.</p> +<p><a name="footnote16"></a><a href="#citation16" +class="footnote">[16]</a> See Cousin, Jacqueline Pascal, +pp. 78–80.</p> +<p><a name="footnote17"></a><a href="#citation17" +class="footnote">[17]</a> M. Lélut’s volume +(already referred to) deserves special attention in its bearing +on Pascal’s health, and the character of his +sufferings. He lays great stress on Pascal’s +highly-strung nervous constitution, in connection both with the +precocity of his genius, his physical sufferings, his religious +susceptibility, and the profound melancholy which affected his +later years. The study is very interesting in some +respects, but is overstrained in its physiological details and +imaginary analysis.</p> +<p><a name="footnote18"></a><a href="#citation18" +class="footnote">[18]</a> Madame Périer, Vie de +Pascal.</p> +<p><a name="footnote20"></a><a href="#citation20" +class="footnote">[20]</a> A disciple and friend of +François de Sales, who had been bishop of Bellay or +Belley, but had at this time demitted his bishopric for the Abbey +of Aulney-Havet.</p> +<p><a name="footnote21"></a><a href="#citation21" +class="footnote">[21]</a> The documents containing these +details are found among the Pascal MSS. in the National Library +at Paris, having been given by Marguerite Périer to one of +the Guerrier family, by whose care so many interesting memorials +of Pascal have been preserved. See Faugère, Int. to +Ed. of Pensées, xlvi.-ix.</p> +<p><a name="footnote23a"></a><a href="#citation23a" +class="footnote">[23a]</a> Cousin, app. 392.</p> +<p><a name="footnote23b"></a><a href="#citation23b" +class="footnote">[23b]</a> Faugère, Lettres, +Opuscules, etc., p. 452. It is difficult to make out the +exact chronological sequence of some of the facts mentioned by +Pascal’s sister and niece. But a special accession of +ill-health, according to both, seems to have followed his +conversion at Rouen, and to have been amongst the causes of his +removal to Paris in 1647.</p> +<p><a name="footnote23c"></a><a href="#citation23c" +class="footnote">[23c]</a> Pp. 134–137.</p> +<p><a name="footnote26a"></a><a href="#citation26a" +class="footnote">[26a]</a> Jacqueline Pascal, p. 73.</p> +<p><a name="footnote26b"></a><a href="#citation26b" +class="footnote">[26b]</a> Œuvres de Blaise Pascal, +t. 4. Paris, 1819.</p> +<p><a name="footnote28a"></a><a href="#citation28a" +class="footnote">[28a]</a> North British Review, August +1844, p. 296.</p> +<p><a name="footnote28b"></a><a href="#citation28b" +class="footnote">[28b]</a> I owe this information to the +kindness of my friend, Professor Tait of Edinburgh. He +further informs me that “of late years the calculating +machine of M. Scheutz has been employed in the production of many +valuable tables almost hopelessly beyond the power of mere mental +calculation;” and that a very simple and ingenious machine, +known as the Arithmomètre of M. Thomas, is to be found in +the office of almost every engineer and actuary.</p> +<p><a name="footnote29a"></a><a href="#citation29a" +class="footnote">[29a]</a> Letter to M. Ribeyre, +Œuvres, t. iv.</p> +<p><a name="footnote29b"></a><a href="#citation29b" +class="footnote">[29b]</a> The illustrious Italian was then +advanced in years. He died in January 1642.</p> +<p><a name="footnote31"></a><a href="#citation31" +class="footnote">[31]</a> Œuvres, t. iv. pp. +160,161.</p> +<p><a name="footnote33"></a><a href="#citation33" +class="footnote">[33]</a> Sir D. Brewster, in an article on +Pascal’s Writings and Discoveries in North Brit. Rev., Aug. +1844. Sir David’s account is almost literally +translated from M. Périer’s letter to Pascal, of +date September 22, 1648, and embodied in Pascal’s +“Récit de la grande Expérience de +l’Équilibre des Liqueurs,” first published in +1648.</p> +<p><a name="footnote39a"></a><a href="#citation39a" +class="footnote">[39a]</a> Cousin, Jacqueline Pascal, p. +94.</p> +<p><a name="footnote39b"></a><a href="#citation39b" +class="footnote">[39b]</a> “Evidently,” says +Cousin, “M. Habert de Montmor, the Mæcenas of the +<i>savants</i> of the time.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote41"></a><a href="#citation41" +class="footnote">[41]</a> Blaise Pascal. +Préface de la nouvelle éd., P. 46. +Œuvres, t. i. 1849.</p> +<p><a name="footnote42a"></a><a href="#citation42a" +class="footnote">[42a]</a> Jus mihi esset hoc ipsum ab ipso +potius quam a te expectare, ideo quod ego ipsi, jam biennium +effluxit, auctor fuerim ejus experimenti faciendi, eumque certum +reddiderim, nec de successu non dubitare, quamquam id +experimentum nunquam fecerim. Verum quoniam D. R. amicitia +junctus est qui mihi ultro adversatus . . . non sine ratione +credendum est eum sequi passiones amici sui.—Descartes, +Epist. Amstelodami, 1683.</p> +<p><a name="footnote42b"></a><a href="#citation42b" +class="footnote">[42b]</a> Discours sur la Vie et les +Ouvrages de Pascal, p. xviii.</p> +<p><a name="footnote43a"></a><a href="#citation43a" +class="footnote">[43a]</a> Any reader curious as to how far +Descartes had advanced in this matter may consult Montucla, +Histoire des Mathématiques, vol. vi. p. 205. +Montucla, no less than Baillet, writes with a clear bias in +Descartes’s favour.</p> +<p><a name="footnote43b"></a><a href="#citation43b" +class="footnote">[43b]</a> Récit de la grande +Expérience de l’Équilibre des Liqueurs. +Œuvres, t. iv. p. 301—“Je méditai des +lors l’expérience dont je fais voir ici le +Récit.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote44"></a><a href="#citation44" +class="footnote">[44]</a> Intererat mea id rescire, ipse +enim petii ab illo, jam exacto biennio, ut id faceret, eumque +pulchri successus certum reddidi, quod esset omnino conforme meis +Principiis, absque quo nunquam de eo cogitasset, eo quod +contrariâ tenebatur sententiâ.—Ep. lxix., +ibid.</p> +<p><a name="footnote45a"></a><a href="#citation45a" +class="footnote">[45a]</a> Professor Tait, article +“Vacuum,” Chambers’s Encyclopedia.</p> +<p><a name="footnote45b"></a><a href="#citation45b" +class="footnote">[45b]</a> These further researches are +expounded in two treatises, ‘De l’Équilibre +des Liqueurs,’ and ‘De la Pesanteur de +l’Air,’ supposed to have been written in 1653, but +not published till 1663, after the author’s death.</p> +<p><a name="footnote46a"></a><a href="#citation46a" +class="footnote">[46a]</a> North British Review, August +1844. Sir David in the main translates from M. +Bossut’s “Discours.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote46b"></a><a href="#citation46b" +class="footnote">[46b]</a> Œuvres, t. iv. p. 187.</p> +<p><a name="footnote50"></a><a href="#citation50" +class="footnote">[50]</a> Faugère, Lettres, etc., p. +80.</p> +<p><a name="footnote51"></a><a href="#citation51" +class="footnote">[51]</a> Vie de Pascal.</p> +<p><a name="footnote54a"></a><a href="#citation54a" +class="footnote">[54a]</a> Cousin, Vie de Jacqueline, p. +43.</p> +<p><a name="footnote54b"></a><a href="#citation54b" +class="footnote">[54b]</a> Ibid., p. 101.</p> +<p><a name="footnote55"></a><a href="#citation55" +class="footnote">[55]</a> B. Pascal, app. vii. p. 491.</p> +<p><a name="footnote58"></a><a href="#citation58" +class="footnote">[58]</a> Vie de Jacqueline.</p> +<p><a name="footnote59"></a><a href="#citation59" +class="footnote">[59]</a> Cousin’s Jacqueline, p. +189.</p> +<p><a name="footnote60"></a><a href="#citation60" +class="footnote">[60]</a> Cousin’s Jacqueline, p. +161.</p> +<p><a name="footnote61"></a><a href="#citation61" +class="footnote">[61]</a> Relation de la Sœur +Jacqueline de Sainte-Euphémie Pascal à Port Royal, +10 Juin 1653—a long narrative, extending to about 50 pages +of Cousin’s volume. See also Lettres, Opuscules, +etc., ed. by Faugère, pp. 177–222.</p> +<p><a name="footnote63a"></a><a href="#citation63a" +class="footnote">[63a]</a> Relation de la Sœur +Jacqueline, etc., p. 182.</p> +<p><a name="footnote63b"></a><a href="#citation63b" +class="footnote">[63b]</a> Ibid., p. 187.</p> +<p><a name="footnote63c"></a><a href="#citation63c" +class="footnote">[63c]</a> Ibid., p. 194.</p> +<p><a name="footnote63d"></a><a href="#citation63d" +class="footnote">[63d]</a> Mémoire, Faugère, +p. 453.</p> +<p><a name="footnote64"></a><a href="#citation64" +class="footnote">[64]</a> Jacqueline Pascal, pp. 237, +244.</p> +<p><a name="footnote65a"></a><a href="#citation65a" +class="footnote">[65a]</a> Marguerite Périer says +that Pascal had always a room at the Duc de Roannez’s, and +that he stayed there frequently, although he had a house of his +own in Paris.</p> +<p><a name="footnote65b"></a><a href="#citation65b" +class="footnote">[65b]</a> Lélut, p. 234. +Women throughout this time took the lead, and were never so +active, even in French politics. “Beautiful, witty, +and dissolute, they brought into public affairs their frivolous +ideas, and sacrificed to their vanity their honour and that of +their houses.”—La Vallée, Hist. des +Français, t. iii. p. 195, quoted in Kitchin’s Hist. +of France, vol. iii. p. 114.</p> +<p><a name="footnote66"></a><a href="#citation66" +class="footnote">[66]</a> Lélut, p. 238.</p> +<p><a name="footnote67a"></a><a href="#citation67a" +class="footnote">[67a]</a> Pensées, éd. de M. +Faugère, t. i p. 197.</p> +<p><a name="footnote67b"></a><a href="#citation67b" +class="footnote">[67b]</a> Ibid., t. ii p. 91.</p> +<p><a name="footnote67c"></a><a href="#citation67c" +class="footnote">[67c]</a> Faugère, +Introduction.</p> +<p><a name="footnote67d"></a><a href="#citation67d" +class="footnote">[67d]</a> Blaise Pascal, App. No. 7.</p> +<p><a name="footnote68a"></a><a href="#citation68a" +class="footnote">[68a]</a> Blaise Pascal, App. No. 7.</p> +<p><a name="footnote68b"></a><a href="#citation68b" +class="footnote">[68b]</a> Introd. to Ed. of +Pensées.</p> +<p><a name="footnote71"></a><a href="#citation71" +class="footnote">[71]</a> Il prit la résolution de +suivre le train commun du monde, c’est-à-dire de +prendre une charge et se marier.—Faugère, p. +453.</p> +<p><a name="footnote76"></a><a href="#citation76" +class="footnote">[76]</a> “D’horribles +attaches”—an expression already alluded to, which has +given rise to a good deal of speculation.—Jacqueline +Pascal, Cousin, p. 237.</p> +<p><a name="footnote77"></a><a href="#citation77" +class="footnote">[77]</a> Cousin, Jacqueline Pascal, pp. +236–241.</p> +<p><a name="footnote87"></a><a href="#citation87" +class="footnote">[87]</a> Fontaine, vol. i. p. 354.</p> +<p><a name="footnote89"></a><a href="#citation89" +class="footnote">[89]</a> See Beard’s Port Royal, +vol. i. pp. 207, 208.</p> +<p><a name="footnote90"></a><a href="#citation90" +class="footnote">[90]</a> Recueil d’Utrecht, quoted +by Maynard, vol. i. p. 78.</p> +<p><a name="footnote91"></a><a href="#citation91" +class="footnote">[91]</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center">L’an de grâce 1654.<br +/> +Lundi 23 novémbre, jour de St Clément, pape et +martyr, et autres au martyrologe.<br /> +Veille de St Chrysogone, martyr et autres.<br /> +Depuis environ dix heures et demie du soir jusques environ minuit +et demi.<br /> +Feu.<br /> +Dieu d’Abraham, Dieu d’Isaac, Dieu de Jacob,<br /> +Non des philosophes et de savants.<br /> +Certitude. Certitude. Sentiment. Joie. +Paix. <a name="citation92"></a><a href="#footnote92" +class="citation">[92]</a><br /> +Dieu de Jésus-Christ<br /> +Deum meum et Deum vestrum.<br /> +Ton Dieu sera mon Dieu—<br /> +Oubli du monde et de tout hormis Dieu.<br /> +Il ne se trouve que par les voies enseignées dans +l’Evangile.<br /> +Grandeur de l’âme humaine.<br /> +Père juste, le monde ne t’a point connu, mais je +t’ai connu.<br /> +Joie, joie, joie, pleurs de joie.<br /> +Je m’en suis séparé—<br /> +Dereliquerunt me fontem aquæ vivæ.<br /> +Mon Dieu me quitterez-vous?—<br /> +Que je n’en sois pas séparé +éternellement!<br /> +Cette est la vie éternelle qu’ils te connaissent +seul<br /> +vrai Dieu et celui que tu as envoyé, J.-C.<br /> +Jésus Christ—<br /> +Jésus Christ—<br /> +Je m’en suis séparé; je l’ai fui, +renoncé, crucifié.<br /> +Que je n’en sois jamais séparé!<br /> +Il ne se conserve que par les voies enseignées dans +l’Evangile.<br /> +Renonciation totale et douce,<br /> +etc.</p> +<p><a name="footnote92"></a><a href="#citation92" +class="footnote">[92]</a> In the parchment copy, +“Certitude, joie, certitude, sentiment, vue, +joie.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote94"></a><a href="#citation94" +class="footnote">[94]</a> The evidence of an anonymous MS. +in the collection of P. Guerrier, grandnephew of Pascal, in which +the story is told on the authority of two friends of the Pascal +family, M. Arnoul de St Victor and M. le Pierre de +Barillon. The evidence for the story of the abyss is not +even contemporaneous. It comes from an Abbé Boileau, +unconnected with the poet of that name, who first told it in a +volume of letters published in 1737.</p> +<p><a name="footnote95"></a><a href="#citation95" +class="footnote">[95]</a> Leibnitziana, quoted by +Sainte-Beuve, t. iii. p. 286.</p> +<p><a name="footnote97"></a><a href="#citation97" +class="footnote">[97]</a> Pensées, t. ii. p 76, 2d +ed., Havet.</p> +<p><a name="footnote101"></a><a href="#citation101" +class="footnote">[101]</a> Recueil d’Utrecht, +Maynard, vol. i. p. 555.</p> +<p><a name="footnote102"></a><a href="#citation102" +class="footnote">[102]</a> The most authentic portrait of +Pascal is probably that prefixed by M. Faugère to his +edition of the ‘Pensées.’ The sketch, in +red chalk, was found amongst the papers of M. Domat, an eminent +advocate, and one of Pascal’s well-known friends. It +bears below an inscription by Domat’s +son—“Portrait de M. Pascal fait par mon +père”—and is supposed to represent him in his +earlier years, when he studied natural philosophy along with his +friend.</p> +<p><a name="footnote105"></a><a href="#citation105" +class="footnote">[105]</a> The following genealogy, from a +Jesuit source, represents not unfairly the origin of Jansenism +and Port Royalism as a theological system: “Paulus genuit +Augustinum; Augustinus Calvinum; Calvinus Jansenium; Jansenius +Sancyranum; Sancyranus Arnaldum et fratres ejus.” The +sequel will show how earnestly Pascal disclaims Calvinism.</p> +<p><a name="footnote106"></a><a href="#citation106" +class="footnote">[106]</a> “Attrition” is a +scholastic term for the first acute emotions of the grace of +repentance. “Contrition” denotes the grace in a +more advanced stage of development.</p> +<p><a name="footnote107"></a><a href="#citation107" +class="footnote">[107]</a> The full title is, +“Cornelii Jansenii Episcopi Iprensis Augustinus: seu +doctrina S. Augustini de humanæ naturæ sanitate, +ægritudine, medicinâ, adversus Pelagianos et +Massilienses.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote108"></a><a href="#citation108" +class="footnote">[108]</a> Beard’s Port Royal, vol. +i. p. 243.</p> +<p><a name="footnote116a"></a><a href="#citation116a" +class="footnote">[116a]</a> Recueil d’Utrecht, p. +271. See also Sainte-Beuve, vol. iii. p. 536.</p> +<p><a name="footnote116b"></a><a href="#citation116b" +class="footnote">[116b]</a> <i>Curieux</i> in the sense, +says Sainte-Beuve, of <i>bel-esprit</i>, <i>amateur</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote120"></a><a href="#citation120" +class="footnote">[120]</a> A name applied to the Jesuits +after Louis Molina, a Spanish Jesuit (1535–1600), whose +“Scientia Media,” akin to the Arminian doctrine of +Divine foreknowledge, was very famous in its day.</p> +<p><a name="footnote132"></a><a href="#citation132" +class="footnote">[132]</a> Beard’s Port Royal, vol. +i. p. 271. Founded on Recueil d’Utrecht, p. 278, and +Sainte-Beuve, t. ii. p. 555.</p> +<p><a name="footnote133"></a><a href="#citation133" +class="footnote">[133]</a> M. Sainte-Beuve connects only +the two concluding Letters with the first two, but the sixteenth +Letter also, upon the whole, as a direct defence of Jansen and +Port Royal, may be said to connect itself with these rather than +with the intervening series assailing the Jesuits. There +were eighteen Letters in all published by Pascal, but there is a +brief fragment of a nineteenth Letter supposed to be also from +his pen, and a farther Letter from the pen of M. le Maitre on the +Inquisition, commonly printed along with the others.</p> +<p><a name="footnote138"></a><a href="#citation138" +class="footnote">[138]</a> After the Edict of Nantes +(1598), the Protestants were permitted to assemble for worship at +Charenton, a small town about four miles from Paris.</p> +<p><a name="footnote144a"></a><a href="#citation144a" +class="footnote">[144a]</a> Letter V.</p> +<p><a name="footnote144b"></a><a href="#citation144b" +class="footnote">[144b]</a> “The grand project of our +Society,” Pascal makes his Jesuit informant say (Letter +VI.), “is for the good of religion, never to repulse any +one, let him be what he may, and so avoid driving people to +despair.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote147"></a><a href="#citation147" +class="footnote">[147]</a> Letter IV.</p> +<p><a name="footnote148"></a><a href="#citation148" +class="footnote">[148]</a> Letter IV.</p> +<p><a name="footnote150a"></a><a href="#citation150a" +class="footnote">[150a]</a> Letter X.</p> +<p><a name="footnote150b"></a><a href="#citation150b" +class="footnote">[150b]</a> “Who is Escobar?” +Pascal represents himself as inquiring in the fifth Letter. +“Not know Escobar?” cries the monk; “the member +of the Society who compiled a Moral Theology from twenty-four of +our fathers.” This book, which Pascal says he +“read twice through,” was the great repository from +which he gathered the details of Jesuit doctrine which he exposes +with such minuteness. Escobar, like so many of the chief +Jesuit writers, was a Spaniard, born at Valladolid in 1589. +His name became a sort of proverb in connection with their +casuistical system, and “escobarder” came to signify +“to palter in a double sense.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote151a"></a><a href="#citation151a" +class="footnote">[151a]</a> Letter XI.</p> +<p><a name="footnote151b"></a><a href="#citation151b" +class="footnote">[151b]</a> Ibid.</p> +<p><a name="footnote152"></a><a href="#citation152" +class="footnote">[152]</a> Letter XV.</p> +<p><a name="footnote153"></a><a href="#citation153" +class="footnote">[153]</a> This is Sainte-Beuve’s +statement (t. iii. p. 138), repeated by Mr Beard, and founded +apparently on Nicole.</p> +<p><a name="footnote156"></a><a href="#citation156" +class="footnote">[156]</a> Nicole’s translation into +Latin of the ‘Provincial Letters,’ in preparation for +which he is said to have read repeatedly over all the plays of +Terence, appeared at Cologne in 1658, about a year after their +completion.</p> +<p><a name="footnote164"></a><a href="#citation164" +class="footnote">[164]</a> These lectures will be found, +translated by the writer of the present volume, in Kitto’s +Journal of Sacred Literature, April-October, 1849.</p> +<p><a name="footnote165"></a><a href="#citation165" +class="footnote">[165]</a> In his Mémoires de +Littérature et d’Histoire.</p> +<p><a name="footnote166"></a><a href="#citation166" +class="footnote">[166]</a> Faugère, i. pp. +123–129.</p> +<p><a name="footnote168"></a><a href="#citation168" +class="footnote">[168]</a> Faugère, i. pp. +149–152.</p> +<p><a name="footnote171"></a><a href="#citation171" +class="footnote">[171]</a> See p. 66.</p> +<p><a name="footnote174"></a><a href="#citation174" +class="footnote">[174]</a> Chiefly from Pensées +Diverses.—Faugère’s ed., vol. i. pp. +177–242.</p> +<p><a name="footnote176"></a><a href="#citation176" +class="footnote">[176]</a> The following passage from +Fontaine’s Memoirs, quoted by Cousin (B. Pascal, p. 132), +gives an interesting and lively glimpse of the philosophical +discourses at Port Royal. It may not be without some +application to the modern no less than the original Cartesian +doctrine. “How many little agitations raised +themselves in this desert touching the human science of +philosophy and the new opinions of M. Descartes! As M. +Arnauld in his hours of relaxation conversed on these subjects +with his more intimate friends, the excitement spread on every +side, and the solitude, in the hours of social intercourse, +resounded with these discussions. There was hardly a +solitary who did not talk of ‘automata.’ To +beat a dog was no longer a matter of any moment. The stick +was laid on with the utmost indifference, and a great fool was +made of those who pitied the animals, <i>as if they had any +feeling</i>. They said they were only clockwork, and that +the cries they uttered when they were beaten were no more than +the noise of some little spring that had been moved, and that all +this involved no sensation. They nailed the poor animals +upon boards by the fore-paws, in order to dissect them while +still alive, and to see the circulation of the blood, which was a +great subject of discussion. The chateau of the Duc de +Luynes was the source of all these curious inquiries, and a +source that was inexhaustible. There they talked +incessantly, and with admiration, of the new system of the world +according to M. Descartes.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote177"></a><a href="#citation177" +class="footnote">[177]</a> Fragment sur la Philosophie de +Descartes.</p> +<p><a name="footnote185"></a><a href="#citation185" +class="footnote">[185]</a> Havet, i. pp. cxxiv-cxxxiii</p> +<p><a name="footnote186"></a><a href="#citation186" +class="footnote">[186]</a> Faugère, ii. pp. 81, +82.</p> +<p><a name="footnote187"></a><a href="#citation187" +class="footnote">[187]</a> Faugère, ii. pp. 91, 92, +99, 104.</p> +<p><a name="footnote189"></a><a href="#citation189" +class="footnote">[189]</a> Faugère, p. 108.</p> +<p><a name="footnote190"></a><a href="#citation190" +class="footnote">[190]</a> Faugère, p. 84.</p> +<p><a name="footnote199"></a><a href="#citation199" +class="footnote">[199]</a> Faugère, ii. pp. 136, +137.</p> +<p><a name="footnote204"></a><a href="#citation204" +class="footnote">[204]</a> The lamented Prévost +Paradol, Études sur les Moralistes Français.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PASCAL***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 26726-h.htm or 26726-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/6/7/2/26726 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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