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 UNIVERSITY OF 
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 STUDIES ON PASCAL. 
 
 BY THE LATE 
 
 ALEXANDER VINET, D.D., 
 
 PROFESSOR OF THEOLOGY IN LAUSANNE, SWITZERLAND. 
 
 fettslatei frnm tyt jhmxl), 
 
 WITH AN APPENDIX OF NOTES, PARTLY TAKEN iROM THE WRITINGS OF 
 LORD BACON AND DR CHALMERS, 
 
 KEY. THOMAS SMITH, A.M. 
 
 EDINBURGH: 
 T, & T. CLARK, 38 GEORGE STREET. 
 
 LONDON: HAMILTON, ADAMS, <fe CO. DUBLIN: JOHN ROBERTSON. 
 MDCCCLI X. 
 
MURRAY AXI> GIBB. PRINTERS, EDINBURGH. 
 
V S-/2 
 
 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 Nothing but a strong, and almost conscientious, objection 
 to anonymous authorship, excepting in those cases in which 
 the mode of publication makes it necessary, could have 
 induced me to place my name on the same title-page which 
 contains those of Pascal and Bacon, Vinet and Chalmers. 
 
 Having returned some time ago from India as an invalid, 
 I happened to take up M- Vinet's Etudes sur Pascal, and 
 was greatly interested with its perusal. Having mentioned 
 it to a friend, who is a great admirer of Vinet's writings, 
 but who was not acquainted with this work, he suggested 
 to me that I might render good service by translating it. 
 Having then no regular employment, I was not unwilling 
 to follow his advice. In the course of the work, I was con- 
 stantly reminded of passages in the writings of Lord Bacon 
 and in those of Dr Chalmers, and resolved to append some 
 of these passages in the form of Notes. But ere this part of 
 my task was entered upon, my hands were full of work ; and 
 I have not been able to carry it to the extent that I ori- 
 
 331 
 
iv translator's preface. 
 
 gin ally contemplated. Still, I believe that the student will 
 find an interest in comparing the thoughts of these four 
 great men, in the comparatively few specimens that I have 
 given. Chalmers has been termed the Scottish Pascal, 
 Vinet has been termed the Swiss Chalmers; and Pascal, 
 Vinet, and Chalmers, were all distinguished in no ordinary 
 degree by their intense Baconianism. 
 
 M. Vinet' s work is a posthumous one, and consists of the 
 following pieces : 
 
 I. A part of a course of popular lectures on the French 
 Moralists, delivered at Basle in 1832-33. Portions of this 
 course were published in the Semeur ; and the portion on 
 Pascal was prepared for publication by the author, but not 
 published till after his death, in the volume from which it 
 is now translated. 
 
 II. to VII. are from a course of lectures on the Literature 
 of the 17th Century, delivered to the Academy of Lausanne 
 in 1844 and 1845. Some of these were published in the 
 Semeur, and others in the Revue Suisse, No. II. was first 
 published in the volume from which it is now translated. 
 It will be observed that these were written after the publi- 
 cation of M. Faugere's edition of the Thoughts, while No. I. 
 was written before it. 
 
 VIII. is a review of two works on the Life and Writings 
 of Jacqueline Pascal, apparently contributed to, and extracted 
 from, some periodical, probably the Semeur. 
 
TRANSLATOR S PREFACE. V 
 
 IX. is a fragment dictated by M. Vinet on his death- 
 bed, " on the 10th April 1847, in the extremity of his last 
 illness." It was published in the Semeur. 
 
 X. This is a reprint of three articles published in the 
 Semeur in 1843. It will be seen that some of the lectures 
 are borrowed pretty freely from these. This is especially 
 the case with that on the Pyrrhonism of Pascal. Yet, on 
 account of slight differences, I have followed the example of 
 the French publishers, and have not curtailed either of the 
 pieces. 
 
 And now I have only to express a hope that I may be 
 found to have rendered not an unacceptable service to the 
 British public, by putting within their reach a book which 
 can scarcely fail both to please and to instruct them ; espe- 
 cially do I hope that our Theological Students will find this 
 volume repay a careful study. The rendering is almost 
 verbal ; probably critics may think it too literal. But 
 Vinet's mind had so little of what is commonly regarded 
 as characteristically French, that it appeared to me that 
 nothing more was needful, in order to make his book an 
 English one, than to substitute English words for French. 
 
 T. S. 
 
 Edinburgh, October 1859. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 I. Of the Book of Thoughts ; and of the Plan attributed to 
 
 Pascal, ....... 1 
 
 II. Restoration of Pascal's Thoughts, .... 5<> 
 
 III. Pascal, not the Writer but the Man, • . . 86 
 
 IV. On the Thoughts of Pascal, . . . . .111 
 V. On the Theology of the Book op 1 the Thoughts, . . 15*2 
 
 VI. On the Pyrrhonism of Pascal, and on his Personal Religion, 177 
 
 VII. The Provincials of Pascal, . . . . . 19£ 
 
 VIII. Jacqueline Pascal, ...... 228 
 
 IX. Abridgment of the Life of Jesus Christ, . . . 245 
 X. Literary Critique on M. Victor Cousin's Essay on the 
 
 Thoughts of Pascal, . . . . .248 
 
 Appendix of Notes by the Translator, .... 293 
 
STUDIES ON BLAISE PASCAL. 
 
 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF THE PLAN 
 ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 
 
 Pascal's Thoughts are not a book. We must bear this 
 observation in mind, if we are to judge of them aright. 
 They are not a book ; perhaps they may be two, or even 
 more. They are — if we must give them a name and define 
 them — they are Pascal himself, — whole Pascal, excepting in 
 so far as he was a geometrician, properly so called, and a 
 natural philosopher. The Thoughts are only the papers on 
 which this great man threw out, from time to time, all that 
 occupied his powerful mind, until the excess of physical 
 malady reduced him to complete inaction, and put, so to 
 speak, the seals upon his genius. Great pains have been 
 taken, and not without success, to reduce these scattered 
 materials, by means of art, into a kind of whole. Sometimes, 
 perhaps, the secret of the writer has been guessed ; possibly, 
 in certain cases, his intention has been entirely misunder- 
 stood. It may sometimes be asked, in the course of the 
 perusal of these fragments, whether this or that passage were 
 intended as it is supposed to have been, or whether its in- 
 tention were not exactly the contrary. Death is dumb ; it 
 
2 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 answers not, nor ever will. Who knows whether, in some 
 instances, what we take to be the thought of Pascal be not 
 the thought' of his opponent, — an objection, a challenge, to 
 which the great thinker meant to pay attention when he 
 should have leisure? Who knows whether we do not 
 ascribe to him some of the opinions of those whom he was 
 preparing to refute ? And even when we are sure that w^e 
 have his thought, are we equally sure that we have it in its 
 proper point of view, in its proper direction ? Do we know 
 whence it came, or whither it was to go ? 
 
 Such are questions which an unprejudiced reader must 
 ask in perusing Pascal's Thoughts. It must be admitted 
 also, that, in several passages, the negligence of a revision 
 which was not conclusive, and w T hich gives us only the rough 
 sketch, the vague outline of the author's thought, throws 
 great obscurity over the face of things. But, notwithstand- 
 ing all this, it were exaggeration not to admit that the 
 Thoughts, arranged by industrious hands, present, if not a 
 regular whole, at least a generally clear sense of each one 
 separately, and enable us to catch a glimpse of the great 
 outlines of a majestic plan, w T hose accomplishment was only 
 prevented by death. 
 
 Among Pascal's Thoughts, a certain number, especially in 
 the first volume, did not enter into the plan of which we 
 speak. They relate to subjects so remote from his principal 
 design, that they should probably be referred to a much 
 earlier period of his life. Such are his reflections on Au- 
 thority in the Matter of Philosophy, on the Art of Persuasion, 
 on Geometry, and some other thoughts on Philosophy and 
 Literature. But, with the exception of these pieces, there 
 are few pages in this collection that ought not to be regarded 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 3 
 
 as materials stored up for the monument which Pascal was 
 preparing. This monument, to the construction of which 
 he had, several years before his death, devoted all the energy 
 and the life that remained to him, was to be a general, and, 
 so far as possible, a complete, apology for the Christian re- 
 ligion. The fragments which he has left indicate this design 
 with sufficient clearness, without so distinctly showing us 
 the method which the author had prescribed to himself, or 
 the extent of ground which his work was to cover. 
 
 But we have a valuable document on this subject, in the 
 preface which an intimate friend of Pascal prefixed to the 
 first edition of his Thoughts. From it we learn that, about 
 twelve years before his death, this great thinker unfolded 
 viva voce to his assembled friends, the whole design which 
 he had formed, and the course which he proposed to follow. 
 This exposition is, as to its substance, too remarkable to 
 admit of our believing for an instant that it is spurious. It 
 is too worthy of Pascal, it too visibly coincides with the 
 fragments which remain to us, it connects, arranges, and 
 elucidates them in too striking a manner, to admit of the 
 supposition that the fragments and the exposition did not 
 proceed from the same mind. It is, in every respect, easier 
 to believe in its authenticity, than to admit that it was pos- 
 sible that another mind should have conceived, at the same 
 time with Pascal, a plan perfectly similar to his, and a plan 
 so original, so new, and, moreover, so superior to the spirit 
 which then prevailed in the science of religion. 
 
 This plan I am going to attempt to reproduce, without 
 making any change in the exposition of Pascal's editors, 
 except that of the language. The ideas are those of our 
 age ; the point of view is from our century rather than the 
 
4 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 seventeenth. All that is required is to suit modern expres- 
 sions to a conception that is really modern. I owe a single 
 word of explanation to my audience at the outset. What, 
 it may be asked, has an apology for Christianity to do in the 
 midst of a review of the French moralists ? This we shall 
 see ere long. We shall be convinced that the work of Pascal 
 is, as to its most essential part, a real treatise on moral philo- 
 sophy. To develop this assertion at present, would be to 
 anticipate the analysis which I am about to undertake. This 
 I shall not do. It is enough to have informed my hearers, 
 in a single word, that I am not wandering beyond the well- 
 defined boundary of my subject. 
 
 Apologies for Christianity have been, in general, more 
 or less, the result of circumstances ; and that in two ways. 
 Often they have been designed to repel a recent attack, di- 
 rected on a particular point. More frequently, without being 
 so visibly called forth by the necessity of the moment, they 
 have been, under a great appearance of generality, a special 
 antidote to the form of infidelity which prevailed at the time 
 of their appearance. Sometimes even, abandoning some of 
 their means, and taking, so to speak, their adversaries in 
 flank, they have given prevalence to one side of the Christian 
 truth, one reflection of its light, one ray of its beauty, one 
 characteristic of its greatness. It is in this spirit of conde- 
 scension and of caution that M. de Chateaubriand conceived 
 his Genius of Christianity. In all these several cases, the 
 apology, whatever may have been its extent in other respects, 
 has assumed an essentially defensive attitude, guarding its 
 own territory, doing its best to protect it, but making no 
 inroad, on its own part, into the territory of the enemy.* 
 * See Appendix, Note A. 
 
THE FLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 5 
 
 Still we can conceive another kind of apology, which 
 should not wait for a challenge, but be itself the challenger ; 
 which should not have respect to the requirements of one 
 age, but to those of all times ; which should not attack one 
 species of infidelity, but which, having d ug out from the 
 depths of the human soul the principle of all infidelities, 
 should embrace them all, anticipating those that are yet to 
 be produced, and preparing an answer to objections which 
 have not yet been stated. For this purpose, we should per- 
 haps find it penetrating farther into doubt than the boldest 
 doubters; digging under the abyss which they have dug; 
 becoming itsetflhcredulous, in its turn, with a more determi- 
 nate and deeper incredulity ; in a word, opening and enlarg- 
 ing the sore, in the hope of reaching the germ of the malady, 
 and rooting it out. This sort of apology is so different from 
 the other, that it demands to be called by another name. 
 Religion no longer appears as a pleader, but as a judge ; the 
 mourning robe of the suppliant is laid aside for the toga of 
 the praetor ; the apology is no longer vindication merely, but 
 eulogy, homage, adoration ; and the monument which it 
 rears is not a citadel for defence, but a temple for worship. 
 Such is the apologetic of Pascal. 
 
 I have re-read it in order to expound it to you. With 
 what feelings ? I cannot express them. Every part of our 
 being is capable of enjoyment ; but beside, perhaps above, 
 the pleasures of taste, of imagination, of sensibility, there is 
 a joy of the understanding, which no writer affords so often 
 and so fully to his reader as the incomparable author of the 
 book which we are studying. I could not sufficiently ad- 
 mire that freedom of thought which always goes direct to 
 the bottom of a subject ; — that manliness of genius which 
 
6 OF THE BOOK OP THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 braves all the consequences of its own boldness ; — that 
 vigour of conception which is always mistress of its ob- 
 ject, always holding it with a powerful grasp, and allowing 
 itself to be led by it, without ever relaxing its hold, even into 
 the depths of abstraction, where, Proteus-like, it seeks to 
 vanish into vapour ; — that extreme clearness, which, in sub- 
 jects of such a nature, can belong only to genius ; — that 
 fruitfulness of philosophical invention, which leads you, by 
 the way of patient and apparently ordinary reasoning, to 
 conclusions which are discoveries, and which extort from 
 you a cry of surprise and admiration ; — and lastly, that style, 
 gentlemen, that style perhaps unrivalled, for never style was 
 so completely true — never style grasped the thought so 
 closely. It is not interposed between you and the thought, 
 for it is itself the thought ; naked, concentrated, nervous 
 as an athlete, it is all strength ; it is beautiful in its naked- 
 ness ; and even the images that it employs, are to it what the 
 cestus is to the hand of the pugilist, not a garment, but a 
 weapon. In it, as in Montaigne, the author, the writer 
 never appears : but with this difference from Montaigne, 
 that when it conceals the writer, it is not that it may the 
 better exhibit the individual, or the L There is nothing of 
 the /with Pascal. The hero— shall I say ? — or the patient of 
 his book, is man ; and when Pascal speaks in the first per- 
 son, it is because he substitutes himself, as their representa- 
 tive, for the whole human race. This bold personification 
 gives to his book a dramatic character, very rare in a work 
 of this nature. This book, apparently didactic, is by turns, 
 according as the subject suits it, a drama, a vehement satire, 
 a philippic, an elegy, a hymn. Pascal despised poetry : did 
 he know that he was a great poet ? In one mould seem to 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 7 
 
 have been cast some of his paragraphs and some of the 
 strophes of Lord Byron. What do many of Pascal's readers 
 seek for in the Thoughts ? Pascal himself; a rare individu- 
 ality, an extraordinary nature, a soul. One may read Pas- 
 cal as he reads Childe Harold. 1 
 
 Pascal's book may be regarded, so far at least as the part 
 of it which enters into the domain of apologetics is con- 
 cerned, as the itinerary of the soul towards faith, or as a 
 history of the reasonings by which, in succession, it has been 
 brought to it ; or as an explication of the slow internal pro- 
 cess which God has made use of to subdue its resistance, and 
 to lead it vanquished to the foot of the cross. Is it the his- 
 tory of Pascal himself? The form of his discourse, the im- 
 passioned and heartfelt character of his dialectics, would 
 perhaps warrant us to believe so : but this supposition de- 
 rives little support from the information which we have 
 respecting the life of this great man. It is more probable 
 
 1 " Man is but a reed, the weakest in nature ; but he is a reed that thinks. 
 There is no need of the whole universe in arms to crush him. A vapour, 
 a drop of water, is sufficient to kill him. But though the universe were to 
 crush him, man would be nobler than that which kills him, because he 
 knows that he dies, and the universe knows not of the advantage that it 
 has over him " (Part I., Art. iv., § 6). 
 
 "What a chimera, then, is man ! What a novelty, what a chaos, what 
 a contradiction ! Judge of all things, weak earth-worm, depository of 
 truth, mass of uncertainty, the glory and the offscouring of the universe. 
 If he vaunt himself, I abase him ; if he abase himself, I vaunt him : and 
 I always contradict him, until he comprehend that he is an incomprehen- 
 sible monster" (II. i. 5). 
 
 " It is indubitable that the soul is either mortal or immortal. This must 
 make an entire difference in morals. And yet philosophers have treated 
 of morals without reference to this. What strange blindness ! (II. xvii. 69). 
 
 " The last act is always bloody, however fair be the comedy in all the 
 rest. A little earth on his head, and farewell for ever " {Ibid.). 
 
8 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 that he made, in thought only, a journey which Providence 
 did not require of him to undertake in reality, and that his 
 philosophical imagination made him acquainted with all the 
 situations through which a profound heart can pass before 
 it arrive at conviction and repose. Be this as it may, there 
 is, in Pascal's book — his drama, as we have ventured to call 
 it — a person, real or fictitious, a protagonist ; and to analyse 
 the work of Pascal, is, in other words, to unfold the succes- 
 sive thoughts of this mysterious character. This is what we 
 are about to attempt. 
 
 Hungering for truth, and seeking for certainty as every 
 being in nature seeks for a point of support, this man has 
 given himself up with ardour to the study of geometry ; and 
 in one respect he is not disappointed in his expectation. 
 Nevertheless he has soon perceived, that in this career he 
 attained only artificial truths, the point of departure being 
 but a supposition, and each consecutive proposition being 
 but the transformation of a preceding truth.* He has seen 
 that this science did not lead him to the true qualities of 
 things ; that concrete truth remained always outside of those 
 so certain and so rigorous demonstrations ; and that what 
 remained most precious in them, independently of their 
 applications to the purposes of life, was a method, but really 
 the only true method, for the pursuit of truth. By this 
 method he will abide ; and rigorously will he apply it to 
 everything that is within the province of the understanding. 
 
 Among the subjects that come under his consideration, 
 religion holds the first place. 
 
 He wishes to conduct a man to Christian convictions. 
 He might set out at once from the objects of these convic- 
 * See Appendix, Note B 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 9 
 
 tions, — from God, Revelation, the Mysteries. But he has 
 observed that in many things the will influences the belief, 
 sometimes helping and sometimes hindering us in believing ; 
 that, if it be not right to apply the will directly to the belief, 
 it is legitimate to turn it on the side of examination ; that 
 examination is so much the more interesting as its object is 
 nearer to us ; that, in the question of religion, the interest 
 consists, on the first approach to it, in the relations which it 
 bears towards us ; that, consequently, w T e should first speak 
 of ourselves, and that thus we should not proceed from reli- 
 gion to man, but from man to religion,* — not from the object 
 to the subject, but contrariwise from the subject to the object. 
 
 This procedure is so much the more natural, so much the 
 more imperatively prescribed, as the prejudice or the indif- 
 ference of man with respect to religion proceeds from this, 
 that he does not know himself, all-inclined as he is to attend 
 to himself. Take advantage of this so natural interest to 
 discourse to him of his own being, and to make known to 
 him, respecting his nature and his condition, things which 
 he does not know, or which he forgets, or which he does not 
 see in the connection which constitutes their importance and 
 their value. 
 
 The writer first confines himself to the most general con- 
 sideration of man ; he contemplates him as compared with the 
 universe, and shows him balanced between two infinities, 
 whether as respects his body, or as respects his mind 
 (I. iv. 1). 
 
 But our characteristic is, that we have not a determinate 
 place in the universe — (every being has its own) ; — but that 
 we feel that we are not in our place ; and that w r e aspire, by 
 * See Appendix, Note C. 
 
10 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 continual and indefatigable efforts, after a happiness and a 
 limit of which we cannot even form an idea, that we live 
 always in expectation or in regret, that we live in the past 
 or in the future, never in the present, even though the pre- 
 sent be materially happy. " Our miseries are the miseries 
 of a great lord, of a king dethroned." . . . . " Man is great, 
 inasmuch as he knows himself to be miserable." .... 
 " Notwithstanding the view of all our miseries, which touch 
 us, and from which we cannot escape, we have an instinct 
 which we cannot repress, which exalts us " (I. iv. 3, and 
 v. 4). 
 
 What is astonishing in man, is the empty space capable of 
 containing many great things ; the sublime efforts which 
 end in falls ; the infinite desires which are satisfied with a 
 nullity ; the search for true good where it is not ; the cha- 
 racter of a being displaced, wandered, lost ; the dispropor- 
 tion between the means and the end. 
 
 1. Man pays respect to the human soul, the superior and 
 divine part of his being. What is a better proof of this than 
 his immoderate desire of the esteem of his fellows ? It is 
 in their soul that he wishes to have an honourable place. 
 But respecting the human soul in the soul of his fellows, he 
 does not respect it in his own ; for, satisfied with qualities 
 with which he has decked his false image, he is much less 
 careful to clothe his own being with these same qualities. 
 
 " We are not contented with the life which we have in 
 ourselves and in our proper being : we wish to live an ima- 
 ginary life in the idea of others ; and in order to this, we 
 strive to seem. We labour incessantly to embellish and to 
 preserve this imaginary being, and neglect the real being ; 
 and if we have either tranquillity, or generosity, or fidelity, 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 11 
 
 we are anxious to have it known, in order to attach these 
 virtues to this beins; of the imagination ; we would rather 
 detach them from ourselves in order to join them to it ; we 
 would willingly be cowards to gain the reputation of being 
 brave. Great proof of the nothingness of our proper being, 
 that we are not satisfied with it without the other, and that 
 we often give up the one for the other" (I. v. 1). 
 
 a Vanity is so anchored in the heart of man, that a foot- 
 man, a scullion, a porter, vaunts himself and wishes to have 
 his admirers, and even philosophers wish the same thing. 
 Those who write against glory wish to have the glory of 
 having written well, and those who read what they have 
 written w T ish to have the glory of having read it. Perhaps 
 I who write this have this ambition, and perhaps those who 
 shall read it will have it too" (I. v. 3). 
 
 " If, on the one hand, this false glory w T hich men seek after 
 is a great proof of their misery and their degradation, it is 
 also a proof of their excellence : for wmatever possessions he 
 may have upon the earth, whatever health and essential com- 
 fort he may enjoy, a man is not satisfied if he be not esteemed 
 by men. So highly does he estimate the judgment of man, 
 that, whatever advantage he may have in the world, he 
 considers himself unfortunate unless he have also a favour- 
 able place in the judgment of mankind. This is the fairest 
 spot in the world ; nought can turn him from this desire, 
 which is the most ineffaceable quality of the human heart. 
 
 " To such an extent is this the case, that those who most 
 despise men, and who make them equal with beasts, still 
 wish to be admired by them, and contradict themselves by 
 their own feelings ; nature, which is more powerful than all 
 their reason, convincing them more strongly of the great- 
 
! 
 
 12 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 ness of man, than reason convinces them of his baseness." 1 
 (I. iv. 5.) 
 
 2. Man has an inextinguishable craving for truth. But, 
 in his actual condition, what obstacles are opposed to his 
 attainment of it ! The principal instrument of this quest is 
 the reason ; but this power, which ought to be independent, 
 is supplanted by opinion, distracted by the senses, altered 
 by sickness, influenced by the will. The principles from 
 which it sets out are themselves often subject to dispute. 
 The idea of cause, on which all reasonings depend, is per- 
 haps gratuitous; at all events, it could not be rigorously 
 proved :* natural principles appear doubtful when we ob- 
 serve that custom becomes, in many cases, a second nature. 
 Why may we not believe that nature is a second custom % 
 Even the reality of our impressions is obscured by the vivid- 
 ness of the impressions which we have in our dreams. In 
 dreams, we believe in the reality of phantoms. May not 
 waking be but a more continuous dream ? And what proof 
 have we that it is waking t The more the reason is em- 
 ployed on these questions, the more it darkens them. Medi- 
 tation leads from ignorance to ignorance, from ignorance 
 which does not know itself to ignorance which does know 
 itself. This is the point that philosophers attain to. Also, 
 true philosophy is to laugh at philosophy ; and if Aristotle 
 and Plato deserve the name of philosophers, it is rather by 
 the practical wisdom of their life than by their metaphysical 
 speculations. Reason alone, then, is an imperfect or a false 
 instrument ; and if truth is to enter into us, it is by another 
 door than that of reasoning. 
 
 1 See also on the abuse of this sentiment, I. v. 8. 
 * See Appendix, Note D. 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 13 
 
 3. A third antithesis or contrariety is that which obtains 
 on the subject of happiness. The desire of happiness is 
 essential to us. But this happiness (it is the general com- 
 plaint) we are so far from attaining, that we know not even 
 where we should seek for it. Reason gives us some light 
 on the subject, but a light that is useless, as we shall see. 
 It tells us that happiness is not a distinct thing from con- 
 tentment ; that the seat of happiness is in ourselves ; that 
 external objects have no absolute influence over it ; that, 
 on the contrary, what is within us can completely change 
 the character of external objects ; that, not being masters of 
 the external w r orld, we ought to make ourselves masters of 
 the internal world, on which we have a hold; that then 
 only what is without us will become subject to us, incapable 
 of hurting us, and fitted to serve us. Reason, then, invites 
 us to return into ourselves, to entrench ourselves there ; 
 and happiness has been admirably defined to be interest in 
 tranquillity. But all our practice protests against this defini- 
 tion. It is out of ourselves that we go to seek for happiness. 
 Our desires go begging after external objects. We ask 
 felicity from all men and all things. We are so imbued, in 
 practice, with this false idea, that in most languages the 
 word which signifies happiness means properly success, 
 good luck, good fortune. We call the man happy w T ho ob- 
 tains the particular objects of his desires. In acting thus, 
 what is the result ? If we do not succeed in our pursuit, 
 we are positively unhappy. If we succeed, happiness be- 
 comes sour in our soul, a,s in an unclean vessel. Still more 
 unhappy are we if the cup of 6uT~exTernal happiness runs 
 over, and if the prodigality of fortune leaves us nothing to 
 desire. Satiety, so prompt to come (for we have soon ex- 
 
 ) 
 
I 
 
 f 
 
 14 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 hausted all, and our capacity of enjoyment meets fatal limits 
 in our organisation) — this satiety sends us back into ourselves. 
 The soul must suffice for its own happiness ; external ob- 
 jects cannot give it ; and, not finding itself sufficient, it ex- 
 periences that extremes meet, and that the excess of happi- 
 ness brings the same result with the excess of misfortune. 
 A horrible situation is that of the man who has devoured 
 all the happiness that external objects can give him, and who 
 has not prepared his soul to give him more, From all this 
 the conclusion is inevitable, that the only pursuit of external 
 things which repays the pain which it costs, is the pursuit 
 of the strictly necessary, which, when obtained, gives us a 
 positive happiness, but a happiness which is material, ani- 
 mal, not the happiness of the soul. It is thus that reflec- 
 tion seems to contradict common notions; but these carry 
 the day against reflection. And, in truth, it is not easy to 
 choose, in this matter, between reflection and common 
 notions; for by following the dictates of reflection, we do not 
 more surely attain happiness. Far from it. If we return 
 into ourselves, what Ao we find ? Nothing that can satisfy 
 us. Thus we cannot blame those who fly out of themselves. 
 They do not find happiness, it is true ; but they escape from 
 themselves, which is perhaps the most prudent course which 
 a man bound to himself can adopt. 1 This is, according to 
 Pascal, the true secret of the tumultuous agitation of men. 
 "Nothing is more fitted to enable us to' apprehend 
 
 1 " The philosophers tell him. in vain (to enter into himself) ; and those 
 who believe them are the most vacant and the most foolish." This note 
 of M. Vinet does not appear to be a textual quotation, but rather an 
 abridgment of the thoughts of Pascal (I. iv. 9, 1, and vii. towards the 
 end). 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 15 
 
 the misery of men than a consideration of the true cause of 
 the perpetual agitation in which they pass their lives. 
 
 " The soul is placed in the body, to sojourn there for a 
 short time. It knows that it is only a passage to an eternal 
 voyage, and that it has only the short time that life lasts to 
 prepare for it. The necessities of nature steal away a great 
 part of it. There remains only a very little at its disposal. 
 But that little incommodes it so greatly, and embarrasses it 
 so strangely, that its only care is to get rid of it. It is an 
 intolerable pain to it to be obliged to live with itself, and to 
 think of itself. Thus all its care is to forget itself, and to 
 let this time, so short and so precious, run on without reflec- 
 tion, occupying itself with things which prevent its thinking. 
 
 " This is the origin of all the tumultuous occupations of 
 men, and of all that is called diversion or pastime, in which 
 men have, in fact, no object but to let the time pass without 
 their feeling it, or, rather, without feeling themselves, and to 
 avoid, by losing this part of life, the bitterness and internal 
 disgust which would necessarily accompany the attention 
 which they might give to themselves during this time. The 
 soul finds nothing in itself which satisfies it ; it sees only 
 what distresses it when it thinks of it. This constrains it 
 to spread outwards, and to seek, in application to external 
 things, to lose the recollection of its real condition. Its joy 
 consists in this forgetfulness ; and it is enough to render it 
 miserable to oblige it to see itself, and to be with itself. 
 
 "Men are charged, from their childhood, with the care 
 of their honour, their property, and even of the property and 
 the honour of their relatives and friends. They are burdened 
 with the study of languages, of sciences, of exercises, and of 
 arts. They are charged with business ; they are given to 
 
16 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 understand that they cannot be happy unless they act in 
 
 such wise, by industry and care, that their fortune and their 
 
 honour, and even the fortune and honour of their friends, be 
 
 in good case, and that failure in a single point will render 
 
 them unhappy. Thus tasks and business are laid upon 
 
 them, which require of them to toil from day-break. A 
 
 strange way, you will say, to make them happy ! What 
 
 better plan could there be to make them unhappy ? Do you 
 
 ask, what better plan? Take away from them all these 
 
 cares ; for then they would see themselves, and think of 
 
 themselves ; and that they cannot endure. Moreover, after 
 
 being burdened with so much business, if they have any 
 
 time of relaxation, they strive to get rid of it by some 
 
 diversion which occupies them entirely, and delivers them 
 
 from themselves. 
 
 " Hence it is that, when I have set myself to consider the 
 various agitations of men, the perils and the pains to which 
 they expose themselves, in the court and in the camp, in the 
 pursuit of their ambitious pretensions, whence arise so many 
 quarrels, passions, and dangerous and fatal enterprises, I 
 have often said that all the unhappiness of men comes of 
 j their not being able to remain at rest in a chamber. A 
 " man w T ho has property enough to live upon, if he could stay 
 at home, would not leave it to go upon the sea, or to the 
 siege of any place ; and if men sought simply only to live, 
 they would have little need for so dangerous occupations. 
 
 "But when I have looked more closely into the matter, I 
 have found that this dislike which men have for repose, and 
 for remaining with themselves, proceeds from a very effective 
 cause, namely, from the natural misfortune of our condition, 
 which is weak and mortal, and so wretched that nothing 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 17 
 
 can comfort us, unless by preventing our thinking of it, and 
 seeing only ourselves. 
 
 " I speak only of those who look upon themselves without 
 any view of religion. For it is a truth, that it is one of the 
 marvels of the Christian religion that it reconciles man with 
 himself by reconciling him with God, that it renders the 
 sight of himself endurable, and that it makes solitude and 
 repose more agreeable to many than bustle and intercourse 
 with men. Moreover, it is not by confining man within 
 himself that it produces all these marvellous effects. It is 
 only by bringing him to God, and sustaining him under 
 the feeling of his miseries by the hope of another life which 
 is to set him wholly free from them." (I. vii. 1.) 
 
 u It is the combat that pleases us, not the victory. We 
 like to see the fights of animals, not the victor glutting him- 
 self on the vanquished. What should we wish to see, if not 
 the end of the victory? Yet as soon as that comes, we are 
 disgusted. So it is in play, so in the search after truth. 
 We like to see in disputes the conflict of opinions ; but not 
 at all to contemplate the truth when found. In order that 
 we may observe it with pleasure, we must see it arising out 
 of the controversy. In like manner with respect to the 
 passions : there is pleasure in seeing two contrary ones 
 struggle with each other ; but when one is mistress, there is 
 nought but brutality. We never seek for things, but for 
 the search after things." (I. ix. 34.) 
 
 4. Man feels in himself passions which ought to obey, / 
 and a reason which ought to command. But it is in vain : / 
 the war is endless; victory on either side is impossible. 
 Neither can reason subdue the passions, nor can the passions 
 put reason to silence. When we overcome one passion, it 
 
18 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 is only by the aid of another, which leads us to suppose that 
 the true limit of the passions would be an affection which 
 should outweigh them all.* This is the true reason, to 
 oppose the lusts of the natural man. 
 
 " The internal war of the reason against the passions has 
 led those who have wished for peace to be divided into two 
 sects. The one party have wished to renounce the passions, 
 and become gods; the other, to renounce reason, and become 
 beasts. But neither the one class nor the other have suc- 
 ceeded. Reason still remains to accuse the baseness and in- 
 justice of the passions, and to disturb the peace of those who 
 give themselves up to them ; and the passions still survive 
 even in those who wish to renounce them." (II. i. 2.) 
 
 Man, then, is full of antitheses and contradictions. And, 
 in short, we must repeat that he is great and miserable ; — 
 miserable, since he feels that he is so (and what need is there 
 of other proofs ?) ; great, since he knows that he is miserable. 
 When a beggar regards himself as miserable in comparison 
 with a rich man, that is no sign of greatness ; but often a 
 man enriched with all advantages finds himself miserable, 
 and that is a sign of greatness ; for his desire, his want, ex- 
 tends into the invisible world. These two opposite attributes, 
 derived from one another, serve mutually as proofs each of 
 the other. The misery of man is demonstrated by his great- 
 ness, and his greatness by his misery. In fact, his misery con- 
 sists in a fall, and his greatness in the consciousness of thatfall. 
 
 It is impossible, after an examination of all these contra- 
 dictions, to look with a calm and indifferent eye on the 
 condition of men in this world. In vain would we have 
 recourse to our daily impressions, and reproduce that image 
 * See Appendix, Note E. 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 1 9 
 
 of man that has been made for us by habit and opinion. 
 This false picture is effaced beyond recovery; indifference 
 disappears, and we cry out with Pascal : 
 
 " Know, then, oh proud one, what a paradox you are to 
 yourself. Humble yourself, impotent reason ; be silent, im- 
 becile nature. Learn that man infinitely surpasses the 
 comprehension of men ; and learn from your Master your 
 real condition, of which you are ignorant. 
 
 u For, in a word, if man had never been corrupt, he 
 would enjoy truth and felicity with assurance. And if 
 man had never been but corrupt, he would have no idea 
 either of truth or of blessedness. But, wretches that we 
 are, and more wretched than if there had been no greatness 
 in our condition, we have an idea of happiness, and we can- 
 not attain it; we perceive an image of truth, and we 
 possess nought but a lie; incapable of being absolutely 
 ignorant and of knowing with certainty ; so manifest is '^ 
 that we were once in a degree of perfection from which 
 we are unhappily fallen. 
 
 u What, then, do this eagerness and this impotence cry out 
 to us, but that once man was possessed of true happiness, 
 of which there now remains to him only the impression and 
 the empty form, which he tries in vain to fill with all that 
 surrounds him, by seeking in absent things the aid which 
 he does not find in things present, and which neither 
 these nor those are capable of affording him, because the 
 infinite gulf cannot be filled but by an infinite and un- 
 changeable object." (II. v. 3.) 
 
 This is, in substance, what experience proclaims to me. But 
 what says it more ? What do the philosophers teach us on 
 the subject ? Have they accounted for these contradictions ? 
 
20 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 No. They have not even indicated the difficulty; they 
 have not rendered the darkness visible. The enigma re- 
 mains quite unsolved. 
 
 Being unable to reconcile the two elements of the problem, 
 they have adopted the plan of showing only one of them. 
 All their systems, however various they may be, on the 
 subject of man, are reducible into two principal systems : 
 one which, perceiving in man a principle of greatness, im- 
 poses upon him laws in accordance with that greatness ; the 
 other which, struck with the vile element of his nature, 
 opens to him an easy and a shameful career. This is what 
 they have done. Could they do more ? Is it competent to 
 human reason to conclude peace between the discordant 
 principles which we have recognised ? It can only put an 
 end to the conflict by withdrawing one of the combatants. 
 
 Pascal has failed to give to this part of his work the 
 development of which it was susceptible. He has not even 
 marked distinctly the place which it should occupy in his 
 work. Some scattered indications are all that the collection 
 of the Thoughts affords us on this subject. 
 
 u Among the philosophers, some have undertaken the 
 task to elevate man by disclosing his greatness, and others 
 to humble him by representing his miseries. What is most 
 strange is, that each party employs the reasons of the other 
 to establish its own opinion ; for the misery of man is inferred 
 from his greatness, and his greatness is inferred from his 
 misery. Thus, the one party have established his misery all 
 the better, as they have taken his greatness as the proof of 
 it ; and the other have established the greatness with so 
 much more force, as they have derived it from the misery. 
 All that the one party have been able to say to show the 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 21 
 
 greatness, has only served as an argument to the other to 
 prove the misery, since the misery is great in proportion to 
 the height whence we are fallen ; and the others conversely. 
 They have thus risen, the one above the other, by an unend- 
 ing circle ; it being certain that, in proportion as men are 
 more enlightened, they discover in man more and more of 
 misery and of greatness." (II. i. 5.) 
 
 " Have they found the remedy for our evils ? Does it 
 cure the presumption of man, to liken him to God ? And 
 those who have equalled us to the beasts, and who have 
 given us the pleasures of the earth as our whole good, have 
 they brought the remedy to our lusts ? Lift up your eyes 
 towards God, say the one party ; behold Him whom you 
 are like, and who has made you to adore Him ; you can 
 make yourselves like unto Him. Wisdom will make you 
 equal to Him, if you will follow it. And the others say : 
 Cast down your eyes to the earth, caitiff worm that you are, 
 and look upon the brutes of which you are the fellow. 
 
 u What, then, shall become of man ? Shall he be equal 
 to God or to the brutes ? What a frightful distance ? What 
 shall we be ? 
 
 . . . " They know neither what is your real good, nor 
 what is your real condition. How should they have given 
 remedies for your evils, when they did not even know them ? 
 Your chief maladies are pride, which separates you from 
 God, and lust, which binds you to the earth ; and they have 
 done nought else than encourage at least one of these evils. 
 If they have set God before you, it has only been to foster 
 your pride. They have made you think that you resemble 
 Him in your nature. And those who have seen the vanity 
 of this pretension have thrown you upon the other precipice, 
 
22 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 by giving you to understand that your nature is like that 
 of the brutes, and have led you to seek your good in those 
 lusts which are common to the animals. This is not the 
 way to teach you of your wrongs. Expect, then, neither 
 truth nor consolation from men." 1 (II. v. 1.) 
 
 If man forget that he has two elements in his actual 
 nature, and if, taking account only of one, he put his trust 
 in one or other of these two sects of philosophers, how will 
 he be deceived or degraded ! — deceived, if he believe in great- 
 ness without misery ; degraded, if he be persuaded of misery 
 without greatness. But if these two elements strike him at 
 once, he will cease to regard the philosophers for what con- 
 cerns the knowledge and conduct of man, and will under- 
 stand, with Pascal, that the greatest merit of philosophy is 
 to u lead us insensibly to theology,* into which it is difficult 
 not to enter whatever be the truth we handle, since it is 
 the centre of all truths" (I. xi. 4). 
 
 Let any one conceive, as every one can, the condition of 
 a man who has sought, with his own reason and that of the 
 philosophers, the key of these great enigmas. Thus Pascal 
 describes his anguish : — 
 
 " When I see the blindness and the misery of man, and 
 those astonishing contradictions which are exhibited in his 
 nature, and w r hen I see the whole universe dumb, and man 
 without light, left to himself, and, as it were, strayed into 
 this corner of the universe, without knowing who has placed 
 him there, what he is sent to do, or what is to become of 
 him when he dies, I am terrified like a man who might be 
 
 1 See also II. v. 10, and the parallel between Epictetus and Montaigne 
 
 (ir. xi.). 
 
 * See Appendix, Note F. 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 23 
 
 carried while asleep into a desert and horrible island, and 
 who might awake without knowing where he is, and with- 
 out having any means of escaping from the island. And 
 thereupon I wonder how people do not fall into despair of 
 such a miserable condition. I see other persons around me 
 of like nature ; I ask of them if they be better informed 
 than I am, and they tell me that they are not ; and there- 
 upon these miserable wanderers, having looked around 
 them and seen some pleasant objects, devote themselves to 
 them, and cling to them. For my part I cannot stay here, 
 nor rest in the society of those persons like myself, miserable 
 as myself, powerless as myself. I see that they would not 
 help me to die. I shall die alone. I must therefore act as 
 if I were alone. But if I were alone, I should not build 
 houses, I should not embarrass myself with tumultuous 
 occupations, I should not seek the esteem of any person, I 
 should only strive to discover the truth." (I. vii. 1.) 
 
 Observe, I pray you, that the anguish of this man is not 
 the anguish of curiosity ; the greatest interests are involved 
 in the solution of these questions. The great derangement 
 of his being is not a problem merely ; it might be a danger. 
 If the feeling of his baseness makes him sadly cast down his 
 eyes to the earth, the invincible feeling of his greatness 
 makes him raise them to heaven : the continuance of his 
 being is the object of his ardent desire, and the subject of 
 his liveliest fears; but the darkness which envelopes his 
 nature extends equally over his future. Shall he live as if 
 this question of the future were resolved, caring little 
 whether it is to be resolved to his profit or his loss ? Shall 
 he forget the danger, in hope that the danger will forget 
 him? Such is not the advice of Pascal. Hear how he 
 
24 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 expresses himself in those immortal pages, where eloquence, 
 stripped of every foreign ornament, is beautiful only with 
 the sublimity of candour. 
 
 " The immortality of the soul is a thing which concerns 
 us so mightily, and which touches us so deeply, that we 
 must have lost all feeling ere we can be indifferent as to the 
 knowledge of it. All our actions and all our thoughts must 
 take so different courses, according as we have or have not 
 eternal good to hope for, that it is impossible to take a single 
 step with sense and judgment, except by directing it with 
 reference to this point, which should be our first object. 
 
 "Thus, our first interest, and our first duty, is to get 
 enlightenment on this subject, on which all our conduct 
 depends. And therefore it is, that among those who are 
 not persuaded of it, I make an extreme distinction betwixt 
 those who labour with all their might to inform themselves, 
 and those who live without putting themselves to trouble, or 
 thinking of the matter. 
 
 " I can only have compassion for those who sincerely 
 lament this doubt, and regard it as the last of misfortunes, 
 and who, sparing no pains to be delivered from it, make 
 this inquiry their chief and most serious occupation. But 
 for those who pass their lives without thinking of this latter 
 end of life, and who, for no other reason than that they find 
 not in themselves light sufficient to produce conviction, 
 neglect to seek it elsewhere, and to examine to the bottom 
 whether this opinion be one of those which the people receive 
 by a credulous simplicity, or one of those which, though 
 obscure in themselves, have yet a very solid foundation, — 
 upon them I look in a very different way. This negligence 
 in a matter which concerns themselves, their eternity, their 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 25 
 
 all, rather enrages than softens me ; it astonishes and con- 
 founds me ; to me it seems monstrous. I say not this through 
 the pious zeal of a spiritual devotion. I maintain, on the 
 contrary, that self-love, human interest, the simplest light 
 of reason, ought to inspire these sentiments. For this pur- 
 pose, we need only see what is seen by persons the least 
 enlightened. 
 
 " The soul needs not be very exalted in order to compre- 
 hend that here there is no true and solid satisfaction ; that 
 all our pleasures are but vanity ; that our evils are infinite ; 
 and that at last death, which threatens us at every instant, 
 must in a few years, and may in a few days, land us in an 
 eternal state of happiness, or of misery, or of annihilation. 
 Between us and heaven, or hell, or nothingness, there is 
 but life, which is the most fragile thing in the world ; and 
 heaven being certainly not for those who doubt if their soul 
 is immortal, they have only to expect hell or annihilation. 
 
 " There is nothing more real than this, or more terrible. 
 Let us act the brave as we will, behold the end that awaits 
 the fairest life in the world. 
 
 " It is in vain that they turn their thoughts away from 
 that eternity which awaits them, as if they could nullify it 
 by not thinking of it. It subsists in spite of them ; it ap- 
 proaches; and death, which is to open it, shall infallibly 
 land them, ere long, in the necessity of being eternally 
 annihilated, or eternally miserable. 
 
 " Behold a doubt of terrible consequence ! It is even now 
 
 assuredly a very great evil to be in this doubt ; but it is at 
 
 least an indispensable duty to inquire when one is in it. 
 
 Thus, he who doubts and does not inquire, is at once very 
 
 culpable and very unhappy. But if, withal, he is tranquil 
 
 c 
 
26 Or THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 and satisfied ; if he profess it, and even make a boast of it. ; 
 and if this be the very subject of which he makes his joy 
 and his pride, I have no words to describe so extravagant 
 a creature. 
 
 " Whence can these sentiments come? What matter of 
 rejoicing can any one find in the expectation of miseries 
 without remedy ? What subject of boasting in finding him- 
 self in impenetrable darkness? What comfort in having 
 no expectation of a comforter ? 
 
 " This repose in this ignorance is a monstrous thing, and 
 a thing whose extravagance and stupidity must be made 
 apparent to those who pass their lives in it, by representing 
 to them what passes in themselves, so as to confound them 
 by the sight of their folly; for behold how men reason 
 when they choose to live in this ignorance of what they are, 
 and without seeking for enlightenment. 
 
 " I know not who has sent me into the world, nor what 
 the world is, nor what I myself am. I am in terrible 
 ignorance of everything. 1 know not what my body is, 
 nor my senses, nor my soul : and even that part of me 
 which thinks what I say, and which reflects on all things 
 and on itself, knows no more of itself than of aught else. I 
 see those frightful spaces of the universe which enclose me ; 
 and I find myself bound to a corner of this vast extent, 
 without knowing why I am placed here rather than else- 
 where, or why the small portion of time which is given 
 me to live in, is assigned to me at this point rather than at 
 any other of the whole eternity which has gone before, or 
 of that which is to come after. I see only infinities on all 
 sides of me, which swallow me up as if I were an atom, 
 
 1 as a shadow which remains for an instant and never re- 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 27 
 
 turns. All that I know is, that I must soon die ; but what I 
 am most ignorant of, is that very death which I cannot escape. 
 " As I know not whence I come, so I know not whither 
 I go. I only know that, on quitting this world, I fall for 
 ever either into annihilation, or into the hands of an angry 
 God, without knowing which of these conditions is to be 
 my lot for ever. 
 
 u Behold my condition, full of misery, of weakness, of 
 darkness ! And from all this I conclude that I am to pass 
 all the days of my life without caring what is to befall me ; 
 and that I have only to follow my inclinations without re- 
 flection and without disquietude, doing all that would lead 
 me into eternal misery, on the supposition that what is told 
 me were true. Perhaps I might find some enlightenment 
 in my doubts, but I will not take the trouble, nor make a 
 step to seek it; and, treating with contempt those who 
 burden themselves with this care, I will go, without fore- 
 sight and without fear, to try so great an issue, and suffer 
 myself luxuriously to be led to death in uncertainty of the 
 eternity of my future condition. 
 
 " In truth, it is to the glory of religion to have so un- 
 reasonable men as its enemies ; their opposition is so little 
 dangerous to it, that it serves, on the contrary, to establish 
 the principal truths which it teaches us. For the Christian 
 faith goes mainly to establish these two things, — the corrup- 
 tion of our nature, and redemption by Jesus Christ. But if 
 these men do not serve to show the truth of the redemption 
 by the holiness of their lives, at least they serve admirably 
 to show the corruption of nature by sentiments so un- 
 natural." (II. ii.) 
 
 It is then settled : he will investigate whether God, the 
 
28 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 fountain of all truth, the key of all mysteries, be not any- 
 where revealed. To seek Him with the reason alone, holds 
 out no hope of success ; the experience which he has had 
 respecting the knowledge of man, has rendered him distrust- 
 ful as to the means of knowing God. 
 
 " I look round on all sides, and everywhere I see nought 
 but darkness. Nature offers me nothing but what is matter 
 for doubt and disquietude. If I saw no indications of a 
 Divinity, I should make up my mind to disbelieve it. If I 
 saw everywhere the marks of a Creator, I should rest peace- 
 fully in the faith. But seeing too much to admit of denial, 
 and too little for conviction, I can only lament, and a hun- 
 dred times desire, that if there be a God who sustains 
 nature, she would unequivocally manifest Him ; and that if 
 the indications which she gives of Him are fallacious, she 
 would suppress them altogether ; that she would say all or 
 say nothing, that I might see what course to adopt. Whereas, 
 in my actual condition, ignorant at once of what I am and 
 of what I ought to do, I know neither my condition nor my 
 duty. My heart is wholly set upon knowing where is the 
 true good, that I might follow it. Nothing could be too 
 costly for this." (II. vii. 1.) 
 
 Oh, the thick darkness of the human reason, or rather, 
 the strange blindness of the human soul ! It finds not in 
 nature that God whose presence sparkles in every ray of 
 the morning, shines forth in every star of the firmament, 
 murmurs in every wave of the ocean, breathes in every 
 whisper of the air, exhales in the perfume of every 
 flower. Pascal (listen to his words) does not feel himself 
 " able to find in nature the means of convincing hardened 
 atheists" (II. iii. 2) ; but if he had attained to the point of 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 29 
 
 convincing them, he would have made little advance if he 
 had not been able to conduct them farther. Let us suppose 
 the man whose thoughts and successive torments we are, 
 under the guidance of Pascal, describing, to have, in fact, dis- 
 covered God, to have recognised God by reason. " Though 
 a man (says Pascal) were persuaded that the proportions of 
 numbers are immaterial truths, eternal and dependent on 
 a first truth in which they subsist, and which is called God* 
 I should not regard him as having made much progress 
 towards his salvation" (II. iii. 2). 
 
 It is necessary, then, that this man know not merely that 
 God is, but ivhat He is ; not what He is in Himself, but 
 what in His relation to man. And as reason and philosophy 
 are incapable of teaching him this ; as, on the contrary, the 
 obscurity which covers the condition of man, covers also, 
 by necessary consequence, the purposes of God, these pur- 
 poses, if they have been revealed, can only have been re- 
 vealed in an extraordinary manner, by a supernatural way. 
 This calls the attention of this man to the different religions 
 which cover the surface of the earth, all of which profess to 
 rest upon a revelation, to contain a revelation. 
 
 He therefore goes on to pass the several religions under 
 review. But, supposing that one of them has been given 
 by God, how shall he recognise it? Or, more generally, 
 what are the conditions which it must fulfil? 
 
 Here an idea at once presents itself. A positive religion 
 pretends to supplement or take the place of reason, and even 
 to silence it. But, as it is reason that must conduct this 
 examination, some explanations are necessary in order to 
 prevent a vexatious and interminable conflict. 
 * See Appendix, Note G. 
 
30 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 And, first, it must be expected that the true religion shall 
 contain things above reason. Why do we search among 
 positive religions at all, but because we have discovered the 
 inability of reason to make a religion of itself? We seek, 
 therefore, for something beyond reason. Our procedure im- 
 plies this avowal. We must either prove that all revealed 
 religion is, by its very nature, an impossibility, or acknow- 
 ledge that every revealed religion must contain mysteries. 
 A religion which should not contain them w T ould not be 
 revealed. 
 
 Nevertheless, with what instrument do we seek for this 
 religion ? With our reason. By our reason we must re- 
 cognise it. God must then have surrounded His revelation 
 (if He has made one) with proofs which should be accessible 
 to our reason. Further, if the truths which He reveals to 
 us be beyond our reason, they must not contradict it. 
 These are two conditions which we must lay down, or 
 rather, that we cannot but lay down : a revelation whose au- 
 thenticity shall be capable of proof according to the ordinary 
 means of proof; — a revelation whose matter shall contain 
 nothing contrary to reason. But this last point requires to 
 be defined. 
 
 Nothing is more usual than for us to declare, respecting 
 anything which astonishes our reason, anything that is new 
 to it, that it is contrary to reason. This abuse, so blameable 
 in judgments which relate to finite things, is much more so 
 in those which refer to the province of religion. In order 
 to guard against it, two essential points must be attended to. 
 1st, The mind, by itself alone, is not a competent judge in 
 matters of the heart. 2d, When we say that the reason 
 must be called on to distinguish the true religion, we do not 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 31 
 
 mean by reason the aggregate of our acquired notions, but 
 the elementary principles, essential to the organisation of 
 the human mind, and the basis of all its operations, which 
 prove all things, and which nothing proves. And to attain 
 surely the highest point of evidence and universality, to 
 arrive at an immoveable foundation, we say that what is 
 contrary to reason is contradiction, the union in one propo- 
 sition of the affirmation and the negation. All that lies 
 within this limit may be admitted, provided the authenticity 
 of the revelation is proved otherwise. 
 
 Pascal has not fully developed these ideas. We find 
 them in embryo in the following passages : — u If we submit 
 all to reason, our religion will contain nothing mysterious 
 or supernatural. If we shock the principles of reason, our 
 religion will be absurd and ridiculous" (II. vi. 2). " Faith 
 tells us much that the senses do not tell us, but never the 
 contrary of what they tell us. It is above them, but not 
 opposed to them" (II. vi. 4). 
 
 He has dwelt more upon the real value and the legitimacy 
 of the faith of those who believe without having examined 
 the external proofs. " The heart has its reasons, which the 
 reason knows not" (II. xvii. 5). This truth he expands in 
 the two following paragraphs : — 
 
 u Those who believe without having examined the proofs 
 of religion, believe because they have a holy disposition 
 within them, and what they hear of our religion accords with 
 that disposition. They feel that a God has made them. 
 They wish to love only Him, to hate only themselves. They 
 feel that they have not power to do this ; that they cannot 
 go to God ; and that, unless God come to them, they can 
 have no communion with Him. And they hear our re- 
 
32 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 ligion tell them that God alone should be loved, and them- 
 selves alone hated ; but that we being wholly corrupt, and 
 incapable of God, God has been made man in order to unite 
 Himself to us. No more is needful to convince men who 
 have this disposition in their hearts, and this knowledge of 
 their duty and their incapacity." (II. vi. 7.) 
 
 " Those whom we see to be Christians without knowledge 
 of prophecies and proofs, do not fail to judge of it as well as 
 those who have this knowledge. They judge of it by the 
 heart, as others by the mind. It is God Himself that in- 
 clines them to believe ; and thus they are very effectually 
 persuaded. 
 
 " I admit that one of those Christians who believe without 
 proofs will not perhaps have the means of refuting an infidel 
 who shall say as much of himself. But those who know the 
 proofs of religion will prove without difficulty that this be- 
 liever is truly inspired of God, though he be not able to 
 prove it himself." (II. vi. 8.) 
 
 But if, after having followed these rules, we still see a 
 crowd of men not coming to the same conclusion with our- 
 selves, I see nought in this that ought to discompose us. 
 For in most cases we shall see that they have not inquired ; 
 or we shall see that in the inquiry they have arbitrarily put 
 the heart in the place of the mind, or the mind in the place 
 of the heart. Lastly, conviction and repose of mind are 
 founded on the essential goodness of the proofs which we 
 have had submitted to us, and not upon the reception which 
 they receive at the hands of our fellows. No one believes 
 on the ground of the faith of others ; or, if so, it is with a 
 dead faith. 
 
 It is not enough for the author to have given these 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 33 
 
 general directions as to the use of the instrument which we 
 are inevitably obliged to apply to this investigation. Him- 
 self making use of this instrument, he investigates, with its 
 aid, what are the characteristics which must not be wanting 
 to the true religion, or the marks by which it will be recog- 
 nised at once by him who knows of what contradictions 
 man is composed. 
 
 At the outset of the investigation whether, among the 
 several religions of the world, there be one which God has 
 given, and in which consequently I may find the end of my 
 doubts and my anxieties, I cannot conceal from myself that 
 by the very fact of the investigation I acknowledge the in- 
 sufficiency of my reason ; for I undertake this investigation 
 only because my reason has not furnished me with the 
 solution which I asked of it. Still this renunciation is not 
 absolute ; and like as a functionary deprived of his office 
 still remains in his place till the arrival of his successor, so 
 my reason retains its functions until it be superseded. Yea 
 more ; my reason has the duty imposed on it of finding and 
 nominating its successor. In fact, the revelation which I 
 seek, and which is to supplement my natural faculties, I 
 can seek only by means of my natural faculties. I can well 
 expect, — I ought to expect, — that its matter shall transcend 
 these faculties, and that it shall explain mysteries by 
 mysteries ; for, were it not so, the human race would already 
 have found in its own reason the solution which it desires ; 
 but what I may also, and ought to expect, is that the means 
 of verifying the authenticity of this revelation shall not be 
 above the power of the human reason. What I have a right 
 to demand, if God has spoken, is that I shall be able to 
 ascertain that He has spoken. I may presume that it shall 
 
34 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 be possible for human reason to attain a degree of certainty 
 on this point equal to that which it can attain respecting 
 other facts; — the same certainty that belongs to the best 
 established historical facts, the same certainty on which a 
 man stakes his life, the same that enables a judge to pro- 
 nounce with full tranquillity of soul the fate of a criminal, — 
 a certainty, in short, which, without having the instantaneous- 
 ness of the evidence, leaves, after a conscientious examina- 
 tion, no trouble, no cloud on the mind. I cannot equitably 
 demand more ; but I cannot be satisfied with less. 
 
 u There are two ways (says Pascal) of proving the truths 
 of our religion ; the one by the force of reason, the other by 
 the authority of Him who speaks. We do not make use of 
 the latter, but of the former. We do not say, You must 
 believe this, for the Scripture which says it is divine ; but 
 we say, You must believe it for such and such reasons, which 
 are but weak arguments, the reason being wholly flexible." 
 (II. xvii. 8.) 
 
 I am not called to rest my conviction immediately on the 
 contents of this revelation : still, if, on perusing these con- 
 tents, I found in it things which were contrary to my reason, 
 nothing could oblige me to accept it ; for, so far as I am 
 concerned, things contrary to my reason are necessarily 
 things contrary to reason. The reason of each person is, 
 for him, reason in its general and absolute sense. But I 
 am bound to make sure that I am not putting my prejudices 
 in place of reason ; I must carefully discard all that is not 
 primitive reason, but acquired notion ; I must go back to 
 the original elements of reason, to its foundations, to what 
 pertains to me not as an individual but as a man, — in a 
 word, to the fundamental data on which I hang my reason- 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 35 
 
 ings on every kind of subject, and, if I may so express my- 
 self, to my abstract reason. 
 
 There is a natural criticism respecting whose principles 
 all men of good sense agree without difficulty. These rules 
 are few in number, and within reach of all men, and truly 
 popular. These rules, I admit, applied without attention, 
 or with prejudice, do not seem always to give the result 
 which was expected from their employment ; but that is 
 the fault of the workman, and not of the tool ; and reason 
 fairly throws back upon the heart the reproaches which one 
 might be tempted to cast upon it. 
 
 Here a question occurs which is often put. Has the 
 reason shared the condition of the other faculties, which our 
 fall has so grievously injured? Is the reason corrupted? 
 Mediately, yes ; immediately, no : at least that is my belief. 
 Our reason is the reporter of our sensations : if our sensa- 
 tions make a false deposition, our reason will make a false 
 judgment. And this is what happens through the obscura- 
 tion of our moral sense and the tumult of our passions ; the 
 judge is uncorrupted, but he is misinformed. And observe 
 that in cases in which the passions do not interfere, in which 
 our interests are not concerned, provided the matter is 
 in other respects within our competence, we judge aright ; 
 and in a great variety of individuals, including an almost 
 equal variety of degrees of intelligence, the reason main- 
 tains a striking character of identity on essential points. 
 Let us illustrate the matter by an example, which, for the 
 present, we shall present as purely supposititious. Let us 
 imagine an audience composed of individuals of every degree 
 of culture, but sound in mind and sufficiently attentive, and 
 let us propose to them the following case : 
 
36 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 Twelve men present themselves before a people, and say 
 to them, We have a friend, who was dead, and who is risen. 
 A great rumour is spread abroad. The resurrection of a 
 man is a fact without example, a fact which stands out in 
 an astounding way from the accustomed order of things. 
 The first impulse is to deny it. Still the fact in itself is not 
 such that we could boldly declare it to be impossible : for it 
 does not involve in it any contradiction ; it does not contain 
 at once affirmation and negation ; and this is sufficient. In 
 order to believe it possible, it is only necessary to believe in 
 God. This removes all contradiction. Those, therefore, 
 who believe in God, w T ill admit the possibility of the fact. 
 Still it remains exceedingly improbable. 
 
 The man who is said to have risen does not appear. 
 On the question of his resurrection we have only the testi- 
 mony of twelve men. It is true that, in many cases, testi- 
 mony may afford ground for complete certainty; but on 
 two conditions ; viz., that the witnesses could not have been 
 deceived, and that they could not have intended to deceive 
 others. These two questions, therefore, must be examined 
 in the case before us. If one or both of these questions be 
 answered in the affirmative, the fact remains uncertain. 
 If, on the other hand, mistake and deception are both out 
 of the question, the fact must be accepted as if we had 
 seen it. 
 
 The first question is, Could they be deceived ? Generally 
 speaking, we may be mistaken as to a person's identity. A 
 thousand instances prove this. If, then, they saw this risen 
 one only for a moment, if he did not speak, if their previ- 
 ous knowledge of him was but slight, the mistake is con- 
 ceivable. But this is not the case in the instance before us. 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 37 
 
 Before his death they lived on familiar terms with him, 
 they conversed with him for whole days, they followed him 
 like his shadow. They knew the minutest particulars of 
 his gait, his gestures, his voice. No personal acquaintance 
 was ever more intimate. They saw him die, they saw him 
 buried, they saw the seal put on the sepulchre ; they wept 
 over his tomb ; they had no expectation of his re-appearance ; 
 no anticipation of this kind has usurped, or even approached, 
 their minds. It is while they are mourning his death that 
 the dead one appears to them full of life. In the pre-occu- 
 pation of their grief, they do not all at once recognise him. 
 Such a thought is too far from their minds. One of them, 
 refusing to believe his eves, has recourse to his hands, which 
 he thrusts into the wounds of the crucified one. Thenceforth 
 the new-born from the tomb converses, lives with them and 
 with other friends ; he resumes with them all the habits of 
 his previous life, day and night he is with them ;* he takes 
 up the broken thread of his previous discourses ; he shows 
 clearly the identity of his person in the identity of his soul ; 
 it is not till after forty days passed in this constant inter- 
 course, that he leaves them a second time, and for ever. 
 
 I appeal to all my hearers ; — Could these twelve men be 
 mistaken? No. But they may have imposed upon us. 
 Here two principles claim recognition. 
 
 1st, A man does not deceive without interest ; least of all, 
 contrary to his own interest. 2d, An impostor is a vile 
 character. 
 
 If these two principles are true, the witnesses of whom 
 we speak cannot be impostors. If they were impostors, 
 these two principles are false ; and as there are not in the 
 * See Appendix, Note H. 
 
38 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 world any principles more evident, it would follow that we 
 cannot attain the least certainty on any subject. 
 
 In fact (to suppose the case for a moment), behold im- 
 postors who deceive not only without any interest in decep- 
 tion, but in opposition to their most evident interest. There 
 is neither glory nor profit in taking part with this man. 
 This they had themselves perceived so distinctly, that they 
 had denied Him when He was a prisoner, had forsaken Him 
 on the cross, had sorrowfully given up His cause as too 
 dangerous. We cannot comprehend how their zeal and en- 
 thusiasm, so completely extinguished in the shades of His 
 death, could have been suddenly rekindled, if nothing had 
 occurred in the interval. What, then, has occurred? Re- 
 flection ? But reflections increase fear : reflections would 
 have led them back to the ignominious end of their Master, 
 to the lamentable issue of His labours, yea, to the conviction 
 of His impotence ; for all His power has gone down into the 
 grave ; and as for theirs, which they derived solely from His 
 words and His looks, the spring of it is dried up for ever. 
 Who, then, inspires these deserters of yesterday, these weak 
 friends, these timid hearts, with that devotedness full of 
 jubilance, with that triumphant ardour ? Is it the present? 
 Is it the future? The present, full of contempt and dangers ? 
 The future? Peter, Paul, and James set about turning 
 their nation and the world upside down with an imposture ! 
 Alas ! their immediate prospect is a prison, and a prison 
 without glory ! And if their Master is not risen, what have 
 they to say ? What do they intend ? To regenerate the 
 world ! To regenerate it by an imposture ! To set out 
 from an imposture to teach the human race truth, candour, 
 devotedness ! Laden with the burden of an infamous lie, 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 39 
 
 they go to teach the world the most refined and the purest 
 morality ! — morality so pure, that the natural heart of man 
 cannot contemplate it without trembling ! morality so pure, 
 that it will be a new charge against them, and the heaviest 
 of all! Yea more ; they shall observe it, this morality ; 
 they shall live in the world as if they lived not in it ; they 
 shall refuse for themselves every kind of recompense, even 
 glory ; they shall refuse for themselves the advantages 
 which the appearance of a new doctrine might procure for 
 them among the people. Far from relaxing the authority 
 of the laws, they go to sanction a political power which 
 seems to be condemned by its abuses ; far from winning the 
 slaves to their side, they rivet — I venture to say it — their 
 chains. They only relieve consciences ; they conspire not, 
 save against the prince of darkness. All this they do, mis- 
 conceived, persecuted even by those whose authority they 
 consecrate and confirm. In a word, their conduct, judged 
 with reference to their interests, is so absurd, that it can- 
 not be explained but on the supposition of the most elevated 
 and the purest sentiment that has ever actuated human 
 creatures ; a sentiment whose continuance and steadi- 
 ness put its purity beyond all doubt. And these models 
 of a virtue previously unexampled are but vile impos- 
 tors ! 
 
 Let us add a concluding observation. Several persons 
 may combine for a falsehood. But let these persons live a 
 long life, in widely distant places, in circumstances equally 
 diverse, and sometimes in collision with one another, with- 
 out, in any one instance, any one of these persons retracting 
 the falsehood to which he is a party, without either weariness 
 of the most painful task, or threatenings, or imminent death, 
 
40 OP THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 making them vary on this point, — this is without example, 
 this is morally impossible ; or else we must admit that 
 moral certainty, which is one of the pivots on which human 
 life turns, is a w r ord void of meaning.* 
 
 I venture to assert that this second supposition will appear 
 to all men as inadmissible as the former ; and I believe that 
 the question, sincerely and maturely examined, calls for this 
 answer, What the apostles said is the truth. 
 
 But if their Master is really risen, their Master is God. 
 If He is God, He could do for them Divine things, and He 
 must have done them. If He has sent them into the world 
 for the accomplishment of a work, He has given them the 
 means of accomplishing it. If they have a message to 
 carry, it is a Divine message. This alone constrains men 
 to accord a religious confidence to the teaching of these 
 witnesses. But there is another motive. Their Master pro- 
 mised them that His Spirit should lead them into all truth ; 
 they have recorded this promise ; and, true upon all else, they 
 must be true on this point. I acknowledge them, therefore, 
 in their teachings, as the faithful and authorised organs of 
 their Master ; and without discussing the manner of the 
 inspiration which they receive from Him, without determin- 
 ing the part left to individuality and to humanity, I acknow- 
 ledge in their thoughts the thoughts of Christ Himself, and 
 I submit my darkness to the light which they borrow from 
 heaven. Thus it is that from the fact of the resurrection, 
 duly established, is deduced the authority of the Scriptures 
 of the New Testament; and that by a series of very simple 
 deductions, which do not yield in respect of closeness and of 
 clearness to any one of those on which our firmest convic- 
 * See Appendix, Note I. 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 41 
 
 tions rest, and on which we suspend, with the greatest con- 
 fidence, the determinations of our will. 
 
 We have thought that a single example, presented in 
 some detail, would render more palpable than any reasoning 
 the truth which we wished to establish, viz., that the human 
 reason is competent to establish the authenticity of a revela- 
 tion ; and that, if the task which is laid upon it in this matter 
 appear to be beyond its strength, it is not it that is to be 
 blamed. 
 
 Pascal does not ascribe to the proofs of religion the evi- 
 dence of mathematical truths. " The prophecies, the mira- 
 cles even, and the other proofs of our religion, are not of 
 such a kind that we can say that they are geometrically con- 
 vincing." (II. xvii. 20). 
 
 Pascal, while assigning to reason the right and the capa- 
 city which we have recognised as belonging to it, does not 
 pretend that all should receive religion by the way of rea- 
 soning. What, then, is the other way which he admits ? 
 Think you that it is tradition ? No. Tradition is only a 
 fact favourable to religion ; a circumstance which brings it 
 under the eyes of men, and calls for examination. Men are 
 not believers through tradition ; but tradition may lead them 
 to become believers, whether they examine religion by means 
 of reason, or whether they sound or taste it by the heart. 
 This second way, far from his considering inferior to the 
 former, he regards as the better of the two. This he ex- 
 presses in several places with so much force, that we can see 
 that it was one of his favourite thoughts.* (See II. vi. 7, 8.) 
 In his estimation, tnose who believe with the heart, believe 
 as well as those who are convinced by the reason. It would 
 * See Appendix, Note J. 
 
42 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 even appear that they believe better. A precious liquor 
 may be indicated by the form and the label of the vessel 
 which contains it ; and we may attend only to these external 
 marks ; but he who, without examining these marks, has 
 tasted it, and proved the effects which it is intended to pro- 
 duce, doubtless knows all about it that needs be known. 
 The true religion must be capable of proving itself to the 
 heart ; and it is to this that every believer ought to come. 
 Until he has assayed this kind of proof, he is not a believer 
 in the sense w T hich religion demands. It may then be 
 admitted as a principle, that the true religion has an evidence 
 for the heart which is above all assurance acquired other- 
 wise. Only it is a kind of conviction, w T hich, not having 
 been obtained by reasoning, cannot be communicated by 
 reasoning. He who believes in this w r ay can demand nothing 
 of the infidel ; but he may demand of him whom reason has 
 made a believer, that he recognise and respect the legitimacy 
 of the belief acquired through the heart. 
 
 " Those to whom God has given religion by feeling of the 
 heart are blessed and w r ell persuaded. But for those who 
 have it not, we cannot procure it but by reasoning, waiting 
 till God Himself impress it upon their hearts ; without which 
 faith is useless for salvation." (II. xvii. 17.) 
 
 These, then, are the principles according to which Pascal 
 is to proceed to the examination of the different religions, 
 and to the search for the true one. But, of course, you do 
 not suppose that he will bestow upon all indiscriminately the 
 same degree of attention. Before examining a religion with 
 respect to the authenticity of its documents, he will cast a 
 glance over its contents. If it do not promise, or if, having 
 promised, it do not afford, the solution of the great problems 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 43 
 
 which have induced him to undertake this examination ; if 
 it do not even appear to have been aware of the chief of 
 these difficulties, we can, without further investigation, boldly 
 pronounce that it is not Divine ; for what is useless cannot 
 be Divine, and what is Divine cannot be useless. If God has 
 spoken, it cannot be in vain ; if He has spoken, it is in order 
 to clear away our doubts and end our torments ; if He has 
 spoken, it is to enable us to find in Him what we could 
 not find in ourselves. A religion which does not answer the 
 pressing questions of human nature, is condemned already. 
 
 Not that we supposed that any religion is wholly destitute 
 of truth. We have already said, at the commencement of 
 this course, that it is not in the power of man to create a 
 pure error. Every religion is true in some point ; — true, 
 if not as a Divine thought, at least as a human thought. 
 And in this light viewed, every religion is a revelation. But 
 that alone is the true religion, which, on the one hand, has put 
 all the questions, and on the other, has answered them all. 
 
 If, in the course of my inquiries, I meet with a religion 
 which has known all my agonies and has expressed them 
 all, heard all my cries and repeated them all, I shall be 
 powerfully attracted, but not yet convinced. If it offer a 
 solution of all the problems of my nature, I cannot know 
 that this solution is true but in two ways : either by the 
 testimony of my heart, by experience, — a convincing proof, 
 but incommunicable ; or by a succession of researches which 
 prove to me the Divine origin of the documents in which the 
 solution is presented. 
 
 Pascal has enumerated, in the fourth article of his Second 
 Part, those marks of the true religion, or, more properly, 
 those marks, the want of which condemns 'prima facie every 
 
44 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 religion which does not contain them. But he does not pass 
 them in review till he comes to examine directly the Chris- 
 tian religion. We shall follow the same course, and shall 
 not indicate them till, with him, we arrive at the same point. 
 
 These rules being laid down, Pascal was called on to treat 
 of the principal religious systems, whose ruins are strewn 
 along the path of ages, or which are still spread over the 
 face of the earth. Here, then, is a new and a deep gap in 
 the work of our author. Some passages, scattered here and 
 there among fragments relating to other matters, indicate 
 rather than fill the void. If Pascal had treated this part of 
 his subject, perhaps his philosophical mind would easily have 
 reduced the several religions to some elementary ideas ; per- 
 haps he would have educed from each of them that portion 
 of truth, of which no one is absolutely destitute ; perhaps, 
 alongside of the necessity that they manifest of a directory 
 for life, he would have remarked a contemplative tendency 
 which converts some of these religions into systems of philo- 
 sophy or poetical allegories. Pascal has confined himself to 
 remarking (II. iv. 3) that, among these religions, some, 
 dwelling only upon the external, are not suited for intelligent 
 men ; and that others, being purely intellectual, would be 
 more appropriate to the intelligent, but would not serve the 
 people ; and elsewhere (II. vii. 1, § 3), that the religions of 
 the world have neither morality which can please him, nor 
 proofs which can convince him. This is nearly all that is 
 contained, on the subject of religions, in the work under 
 analysis. We feel that these few words presuppose, perhaps 
 sum up the discussion, but they cannot supersede it. 
 
 Be this as it may, the author supposes himself surveying 
 the several religions of the earth, rejecting them one after 
 
THE FLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 45 
 
 another, until he is arrested in this rapid review by the religion 
 of the Jews, or rather by the book of that religion. The 
 peculiar characteristics of this book attract and fix his atten- 
 tion. The indication of these characteristics we must seek 
 in Pascal's book itself. Let us only indicate that one with 
 which the author is most struck. Humanity is represented 
 in this book as born glorious ; but its fall follows close upon 
 its glory. The traces of its ancient glory, and the burning 
 furrow of the thunderbolt which has laid it low, are visible 
 in all the race. The contrasts in the nature of man are 
 explained by this sad history. His fall and his misery are 
 continually manifested in this book by the promises that are 
 made on the part of God to raise him from this fall, and to 
 deliver him from this misery. All, in the light of this reve- 
 lation, radiates backward towards a fall, and forward 
 towards a restoration. It is from this datum that the old 
 economy sets out, it is to this end that it everywhere points. 
 These promises, constantly repeated, and becoming more and 
 more distinct, lead me on step by step towards another book, 
 where their accomplishment is to be found. There is found 
 developed a system (for as yet I call it only a system), in 
 which is at length accomplished the reconciliation, the fusion 
 of the discordant elements wdiich afflicted me in nature and 
 the human destinies. Let us here quote some of our author's 
 Thoughts : — 
 
 " A religion cannot be true if it do not know our nature ; 
 for the true nature of man, his true good — the true virtue 
 and the true religion — are things of which the knowledge is 
 inseparable. It must know the greatness and the baseness 
 of man, and the reason of both. What religion beside the 
 Christian knows all these things ?" (II. iv. 2.) 
 
4G OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 " The true religion must be distinguished by its requiring 
 of us to love God. This is right ; and yet none but ours 
 has ordained it. It must also take cognizance of the concu- 
 piscence of man, and his inability of himself to attain to 
 virtue. It must bring remedies for this evil, of which the 
 chief is prayer. Our religion has done all this, and none 
 other has ever asked of God power to love and follow Him." 
 (II. iv. 1.) 
 
 " The other religions, as the Pagan, are more popular, for 
 they consist wholly of externals ; but they are not for intel- 
 ligent men. A religion purely intellectual would be better 
 suited to intelligent men ; but it would not serve for the 
 people. The Christian religion alone is suited for all, being 
 composed of the external and the internal. It elevates the 
 people to the internal, and brings down the proud to the 
 external ; and it is not perfect without both ; for the people 
 must understand the spirit from the letter, and the intelli- 
 gent must submit their spirit to the letter, by practising 
 what is external." (II. iv. 3.) 
 
 u We are hateful; reason convinces us of this. But no 
 other religion than the Christian proposes to us to hate our- 
 selves. No -other religion, therefore, can be received by those 
 who know that they are worthy only of hatred. No religion 
 except the Christian knows that man is at once the most 
 excellent creature and the most miserable. Some, which 
 know the reality of his excellence, have treated as cowardice 
 and ingratitude the low sentiments which men naturally 
 have of themselves ; and others, knowing how real is this 
 baseness, have treated with haughty ridicule those feelings 
 of greatness which are also natural to man. No religion 
 except ours has taught that man is born in sin ; no sect of 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 47 
 
 philosophers has said it ; therefore no one has said the 
 truth." (II. iv. 4.) 
 
 u The philosophers did not prescribe sentiments suited to 
 the two conditions. They inspired emotions of pure great- 
 ness, and that is not the condition of man. Or they inspired 
 emotions of pure baseness, and that is as little the condition 
 of man. There is need of emotions of baseness — not a base- 
 ness of nature, but of penitence ; not to remain in that 
 condition, but to rise to greatness. There is need of emo- 
 tions of greatness ; but of a greatness which comes from 
 grace, and not from merit, and after having passed through 
 a state of abasement." (II. v. 10.) 
 
 " No one is so happy as a true Christian, nor so reason- 
 able, nor so virtuous, nor so amiable. With how little pride 
 does a Christian believe himself united to God ! With how 
 little abjectness does he equal himself to the worms of the 
 dust ! Who, then, can refuse to these heavenly lights belief 
 and adoration ? For is it not clearer than the day that we feel 
 in ourselves characters of excellence that cannot be effaced ? 
 And is it not also true that w T e experience every hour the 
 effects of our deplorable condition ? What, then, does this 
 chaos and this monstrous confusion proclaim to us, but the 
 reality of those two conditions, with a voice so powerful that 
 it is impossible to resist it?" (II. v. 11.) 
 
 The author does not pretend to give to these considera- 
 tions more authority than rightfully belongs to very strong 
 presumptions. Perhaps he has taken lower ground than 
 sound philosophy w r ould have entitled him to occupy. Per- 
 haps the only religion that has given a complete and per- 
 fectly connected system respecting the condition of man, is 
 necessarily the true religion. Perhaps the observation that 
 
48 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 the circle which cannot be completed by all the systems, is 
 definitively completed by the doctrine of the cross, and by 
 this doctrine alone, ought to be sufficient to close also the 
 discussion. Perhaps the study of the moral effects of the 
 application of this doctrine to the human heart ought to 
 lead our reason to adopt it. Perhaps the view of the har- 
 mony re-established in a soul — I say in one only — by the 
 doctrine of redemption, is the proof that Christianity is the 
 remedy devised of God to put an end to our internal dis- 
 cordances. Perhaps, in a word, in these observations dwells 
 a sufficient demonstration, a complete apology. But Pascal 
 does not consider the demonstration as even commenced 
 which he has in view, because that demonstration is calcu- 
 lated for the requirements of pure reason. He only believes 
 that what he has said is fitted to dispose his hearers to listen 
 with good-will, and even with a lively interest, to what he 
 has still to say. He believes even that, having reached this 
 point, they ought to desire that the Christian religion, exa- 
 mined as a historical fact, may be found to be as true as it 
 is beautiful.* 
 
 Here, then, and only here, begins, with Pascal, what with 
 other writers claims exclusively the title of Apology. It is 
 no part of our plan to analyse this part. It scarcely admits 
 of extracts. We shall only say, that in the sketch which he 
 has given of the examination of the historical proofs of 
 Christianity, there is abundance of original ideas and of 
 luminous views. Unfortunately the work is far from being 
 complete. We may judge of what it was intended to em- 
 brace from the following summing up, which is the author's 
 own. 
 
 * See Appendix, Note K. 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 49 
 
 " It is impossible to look at all the proofs of the Christian 
 religion collected together, without feeling their force, which 
 no reasonable man can resist. 
 
 " Let any one think of its establishment ; that a religion 
 so contrary to nature should have been established of itself, 
 so peacefully, without any force or constraint, and yet so 
 powerfully that no tortures could deter the martyrs from 
 confessing it ; and that all this should have been done, not 
 only without the aid of any prince, but in spite of all the 
 princes of the earth, who opposed it. 
 
 " Let any one consider the holiness, the loftiness, and the 
 humility of a Christian soul. The heathen philosophers 
 sometimes raised themselves above the rest of mankind by a 
 better regulated manner of living, and by sentiments which 
 had some conformity with those of Christianity. But they 
 never recognised as a virtue what the Christians call hu- 
 mility, and they would even have regarded it as incompatible 
 with other virtues of which they boasted. It is only the 
 Christian religion that has known how to join together things 
 that till then had appeared so opposite, and has taught men 
 that, so far from humility being incompatible with the other 
 virtues, without it all the other virtues are but vices and 
 defects. 
 
 " Let any one consider the marvels of the Holy Scripture, 
 which are infinite, the grandeur and the superhuman subli- 
 mity of the things which it contains, and the admirable 
 simplicity of its style, which has no affectation, no pre- 
 tension, and which bears a stamp of truth which cannot be 
 gainsaid. 
 
 " Let any one consider the character of Jesus Christ in 
 particular. Whatever sentiment we may have of Him, it 
 
 E 
 
50 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, AND OF 
 
 cannot be doubted that He had a very great and a very lofty 
 mind, of which He gave indications from His childhood in 
 the presence of the doctors of the law. And yet, instead of 
 applying Himself to the cultivation of His talents by study 
 and by associating with the learned, He passes thirty years 
 of His life in manual labour, and in entire seclusion from 
 the world ; and during the three years of His preaching, He 
 calls to His company and chooses for His apostles men 
 without knowledge, without study, without reputation ; and 
 He draws upon Himself the enmity of those who w r ere re- 
 puted the most learned and the wisest men of their time. 
 A strange procedure for a man whose design is to establish 
 a new religion ! 
 
 " Let any one consider attentively those apostles chosen by 
 Jesus Christ, those illiterate men, without study, who yet 
 are found all at once sufficiently learned to confound the most 
 skilful philosophers, and sufficiently strong to resist kings 
 and tyrants who opposed themselves to the establishment of 
 the Christian religion which they announced. 
 
 " Let any one consider that marvellous succession of pro- 
 phets, who succeeded one another during 2000 years, and who 
 all predicted, in so many different ways, even the minutest 
 circumstances of the life of Jesus Christ, of His death, of 
 His resurrection, of the mission of the apostles, of the preach- 
 ing of the Gospel, of the conversion of the nations, and many 
 other things which relate to the establishment of the Chris- 
 tian religion and the abolition of Judaism. 
 
 " Let any one consider the wonderful accomplishment of 
 these prophecies, wdiich meet so perfectly in the person of 
 Jesus Christ, that it is impossible, without wilful blindness, 
 not to recognise Him. 
 
THE PLAN ATTRIBUTED TO PASCAL. 51 
 
 " Let any one consider the state of the Jewish people, both 
 before and since the advent of Jesus Christ ; their flourish- 
 ing condition before His coming, and their miserable state 
 since their rejection of Him ; for they are to this day with- 
 out any sign of religion, without a temple, without sacrifices, 
 scattered over all the earth, the scorn and the offscouring of 
 all nations. 
 
 u Let any one consider the perpetuity of the Christian 
 religion, which has always subsisted since the beginning of 
 the world, whether among the saints of the Old Testament, 
 who lived in the expectation of Jesus Christ before His 
 advent, or among those who have received Him and believed 
 in Him since His coming; whereas no other religion has 
 perpetuity, w r hich is the chief characteristic of the true. 
 
 " Lastly, let any one consider the holiness of this religion ; 
 its doctrine, which explains even all the contradictions which 
 meet in man ; and all the other singular, supernatural, and 
 Divine things, which shine out on all sides of it. 
 
 " And let any one judge, after all this, whether it be pos- 
 sible to doubt that the Christian religion is the only true 
 religion, and whether any other have ever approached to it." 
 (II. iv. 12.) 
 
 Our analysis has not embraced some fragments which 
 certainly entered into the plan of the w r ork, but of which we 
 could not determine the place that they should have occu 
 pied. The most remarkable are the following : — Of Jesus 
 Christ (this is the well-known passage on the three orders 
 of greatness) ; The design of God in concealing Himself from 
 some, and revealing Himself to others (II. xiii. 1) ; God 
 cannot be profitably known but through Jesus Christ (II. 
 xv. 2). 
 
52 OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS, ETC. 
 
 Another passage worthy of being meditated upon is that 
 in which Pascal shows that conversion, so far from being an 
 exchange of the joys of the world for sadness, is, on the 
 contrary, the passage from sadness, or from a false joy, to 
 true joy, and that the attraction of this joy is, that it leads 
 the convert to the Gospel, and keeps him there (II. xvii. 
 28. See also II. xvii. 72). 
 
RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 53 
 
 II. 
 
 RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 We are under great obligations to M. Faugere, but first 
 let us thank M. Cousin. It is to him that we are indebted 
 for this purified edition of the Thoughts. It is at least proba- 
 ble that, but for him, we should have had to wait long for 
 it. Since the publication of his book it was doubly neces- 
 sary. It was known, beyond the possibility of doubt, that 
 we had not the true text of the Thoughts ; and many in- 
 quired if we had the true thought of Pascal. The labour 
 of M. Faugere has dissipated this uncertainty. Pascal is 
 restored to us; — not the Pascal, sceptic and dissolute, of 
 whom M. Cousin drew the black portrait, but the Pascal 
 whom we knew, — Pascal convinced, fervent, and happy. 
 Once more, let us thank M. Cousin. Even before the new 
 edition, the argument that we maintained with him was in 
 nowise desperate; it is better still, since the publication 
 which his Memoir has called forth. 
 
 It is now also that we are made aware to what extent the 
 timid prudence of the friends of the great man had corrupted 
 (if that expression may be allowed) the text of these immortal 
 fragments. M. Cousin was right when he said that there is 
 no sort of alteration which the text has not undergone. The 
 first editors allowed themselves every liberty, or rather im- 
 posed everything upon themselves as a duty, — to suppress, 
 to add, to transpose, to divide, to combine— all seemed to 
 
54 ItESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 them to be their full right or their bounden duty. They 
 had, in different instances, remodelled the plan of the work, 
 the style of the author, and even his meaning. M. Faugere 
 is only scrupulously true when he says, " that there are 
 nowhere, whether in the first or in the subsequent editions, 
 twenty lines in succession which do not contain some altera- 
 tion, great or small." He might have added, that it is a 
 rare thing, in these same editions, for six lines in succession 
 to agree exactly with the original manuscript. One feels 
 himself confounded by such recklessness. But two reflec- 
 tions may serve to temper this first and inevitable im- 
 pression. 
 
 The first is, that in the point of view of the seventeenth 
 century, the Thoughts of Pascal, as they were thrown out 
 on paper, w^ere not really written. Pascal would never have 
 given them to the public under this form ; and his friends 
 would have thought that they were wanting in their duty 
 towards him if they had not, in his absence, done what he 
 would certainly have done himself. No doubt Pascal would 
 better, much better, have acquitted himself of the task ; and 
 no comparison can be seriously instituted between such an 
 editor and those who took his place. I should not be par- 
 doned were I to pretend that the completed work would 
 have been of less value than the sketch ; but what I will 
 venture to say is, that it would have been a different, a 
 wholly different thing — a work of Pascal rather than Pascal 
 himself, a book rather than a man. I believe that the choice 
 lies between the book and the man, although I do not doubt 
 that Pascal would have transfused a portion of himself into 
 his book. If in the work of the old editors we regret, 
 above all else, the sacrifice of the individuality of Pascal, let 
 
RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 55 
 
 us admit that he himself would have spared it less, and that 
 there would have been more reserve on his part than there 
 has been temerity on theirs. With more care than any one 
 else, he would have softened down the most vivid emotions, 
 rounded off the most salient angles. Pascal, in fact, would 
 have shrunk from presenting to us Pascal in all his entire- 
 ness, as he would have shrunk from fire. We like in these 
 days to see marked individuality, perhaps because we feel 
 that it is rare. It was neither consistent with the spirit of 
 the seventeenth century, nor with the principles of the re- 
 ligious school to which Pascal belonged, to permit indi- 
 viduality to impress itself vividly upon a man's writings. 
 The age and Port-Royal contributed their respective shares 
 to this maxim, u Christian piety abnegates the human 7, 
 and human civilisation conceals and suppresses it." Now 
 we like to catch a glimpse, and even a sight of the man in 
 the writer. Individuality pleases us: even egotism does 
 not always displease us; in the seventeenth century the 
 public were less curious, and writers were more reserved. 
 Dignity of manners appeared to demand this reserve. 
 What Pascal could least pardon in Montaigne, was that 
 he had spoken so much of himself; and La Fontaine could 
 not be personal, even as he could not be naif and dreamy, 
 but on condition of being in some sort outlawed from the 
 republic of literature. I conclude that the Thoughts, 
 whether published by the friends of Pascal or by himself, 
 could not preserve that character of style which is a main 
 element of the lively impression which we receive from 
 them, and of the species of popularity which they have 
 gained. I give this consideration for what it may be worth. 
 The next will perhaps be more effective. If we had no 
 
56 RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 had the Thoughts such as we have them, it is probable that 
 we should not have had them at all. 
 
 No one, after the death of Pascal, would have published 
 the Tlwughts without altering their text. It might have 
 been less essentially modified. It might also have been 
 more. It ran more risks than we are apt to believe. The 
 worst of all, and the most probable, was that it should never 
 appear. Such as it was published, it must have appeared, 
 at its first publication, a very bold step ; and we doubt 
 whether certain pages would have been printed, if the 
 editors had appreciated the bearing which they might have 
 on the minds of a portion of the public. The only person 
 who dared, whether from mental fearlessness, or from natural 
 partiality, insist upon a genuine publication, was Madame 
 Perrier. All the zealots and all the prudent were against 
 her. If considerable changes had not been resolved upon, 
 Pascal would have remained buried in his manuscript, where 
 it would have been long ere any one would have gone to 
 search for him, and a long forgetfulness might easily have 
 passed into an eternal proscription. We may therefore 
 be tempted, strange as it may appear, rather to thank the 
 editors than to blame them. It was better, at all events, 
 to possess Pascal under this form than not to possess him 
 at all. 
 
 With whom would Pascal have been better pleased, the 
 old editors or the new editor? Neither with those, nor 
 with this, I believe ; but much less with M. Faugere than 
 with the Duke of Roannez and M. de Brienne. Nevertheless 
 M. Faugere deserves nothing but commendation. After 
 the imperfect editions, after the lapse of two centuries, but 
 especially after the inferences that were attempted to be 
 
RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 57 
 
 drawn from the study of the original manuscript, a work 
 like his was indispensable. Pascal would, perhaps, have 
 admitted this; but this is very different from saying he 
 would have been pleased with it. It is with the first 
 efforts and the first gropings of a writer somewhat as with 
 private life, which ought to be walled round; or as with 
 the sacredness of letters, more inviolable than any other. 
 An invasion has been made into the moral homestead of the 
 author of the Thoughts ; his seal has been broken ; and 
 however such violences may find their excuses in the in- 
 terest of those on whom they are perpetrated, they are 
 violences nevertheless. Pascal would have felt it keenly. 
 No one, it has been often said, could make up his mind to 
 confide to the most intimate of his friends all the ideas 
 through which his mind has passed. Who would be willing 
 to confess to others what he is afraid to confess to himself? 
 To this confession Pascal has been compelled by M. Faugere; 
 and the confidant that he has given him is simply the public. 
 You will tell me that Pascal had no cause to blush for his 
 T/wughts, w T hich assuredly were not evil thoughts. But 
 who wishes to be caught in the fact of uncertainty and 
 groping his way ? Who does not experience a degree of 
 shame on seeing not merely a stranger, but a familiar friend, 
 enter his chamber while it is still in disorder in a morning ? 
 Glad to see you; but why did not you wait? An hour 
 later, you would have found me afoot, dressed, all my furni- 
 ture arranged, and my chamber swept. It is too disagree- 
 able to be taken at first getting out of bed, or in the disorder 
 of the first hours of the day. And much more so to be con- 
 strained to give up to the public the progress of a labour of 
 which the public were the object. From this secret labour 
 
58 RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 has issued, or was meant to issue, an easy, firm, rapid speech, 
 such as that of a man in whom thought and expression 
 spring up in a continuous stream. The public have no con- 
 cern to consider what it may have cost. In truth, they 
 are not ignorant of this ; but it is to their advantage not to 
 see it. In the present case, they force themselves into the 
 workshop of the writer, count and handle his engines, 
 discover combination, and almost artifice, where they ex- 
 pected to see pure inspiration. If this please them, so 
 much the better for them ; but will the author, for his part, 
 be particularly delighted ? Pascal was far above the child- 
 ishness of false bashfulness. I admit it ; but there is some- 
 thing of a graver kind here. In those ripped up rags which 
 you present us with, Pascal is not a man who writes, but a 
 man who thinks ; we should rather say, he is a man search- 
 ing for his thought. Do not mistake the matter ; many of 
 his affirmations are but questions in disguise. He often 
 says It is so, when he means Is it so f He enunciates in 
 absolute terms what is true for him only in a relative 
 sense. Sometimes even it is not he that speaks to you, but 
 a third party, perhaps his opponent. One must have no 
 experience of the profession of a writer if he will not admit, 
 a priori, all that I have supposed. To think is alternately 
 to affirm and to doubt, and ask and to answer. We seldom 
 think except with the help of words, — a sort of chemical re- 
 agents, under whose action thought is decomposed. These 
 words, of course, need not be uttered, or written. But it is 
 more convenient to do so. Many persons cannot meditate 
 but pen in hand. They think only by means of writing. 
 This was not the case with Pascal. But it is true that a 
 sonsiderable proportion of the pages of this collection exhibit 
 
RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 59 
 
 to us, not the result, as a book ought to do, but the internal 
 labour of his thought ; I might almost say, the fermentation 
 of his mind. The idea, in many places, is not more definite 
 than the form. But if he had seen himself given over to 
 the public in this state, would not Pascal have felt himself 
 to be betrayed ; and is he not so to a certain extent ? Let 
 the grave and judicious editor of the Thoughts pardon me 
 this expression, the meaning of which he will not misappre- 
 hend. His work is as loyal as it was necessary ; and, hav- 
 ing spoken of the involuntary impression which it would 
 have made on the author of the Thoughts, I add, that on full 
 consideration, and taking into account the time and the 
 circumstances, he would have acknowledged that M. Fau- 
 gere has done a service to him as well as to us. 
 
 It can no longer be said that the first editors had left the 
 real Pascal — that is, according to some, the sceptical and the 
 despairing Pascal — concealed at the bottom of the original 
 text. That text has been presented to us in its integrity. 
 M. Faugere has carried scrupulosity farther, if possible, than 
 the first editors had carried license. He has presented us 
 even with isolated words of which no one can make out 
 any meaning ; and even when one of these words was illegi- 
 ble, he has shown its existence and marked its place. Now 
 more than ever you can judge whether Pascal had by him 
 good reasons for being a Christian ; but now more than ever 
 you will judge that he was one. He has not, indeed, be- 
 come one in the ordinary way. He is, if not the first, at 
 least the first in an express way, to summon to his counsel, 
 on the great question of the truth of Christianity, the moral 
 faculties, which had been deprived of their right of suffrage 
 by the intellectual faculties. He has claimed for the whole 
 
60 RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 man the right of judgment on this great question. He has 
 summoned from the depths of our nature, new witnesses 
 whose testimony was never received before. He has held 
 that their testimony, neglected as it had been, was fully 
 sufficient to each one of us for himself; and that strictly 
 there was no true light, no useful conviction, for any one 
 who had not heard their testimony. Fortified by their 
 depositions, he has ventured to reduce to their proper value, 
 not only the objections of the opponents of his faith, but 
 more than one prejudice, more than one petitio principiij 
 which religion may haply afterwards be able to raise into a 
 certainty, but which cannot contribute to the certainty of 
 religion. All this appeared, it must be said, in the former 
 editions, disfigured as they were. The present edition 
 exhibits on more sides this characteristic of Pascal's apolo- 
 getics. But that is all. It does not create this character- 
 istic ; it does not modify it ; and, above all, it does not give 
 any other idea of the religious state of Pascal than that which 
 we had all along. Perhaps the author of the T/ioughts 
 appears in this new edition surrounded with a purer and a 
 serener light. 
 
 This, and the great number of new things which M. 
 Paugere has restored, are not, fundamentally, the only ad- 
 vantages of this faithful edition. One cannot read the new 
 Pascal without being struck with the very individual charac- 
 ter of the religion of this great man. An edition prepared 
 by himself, and necessarily in concert with his friends — an 
 official publication, so to speak — would greatly have lessened 
 this character and this merit of the work. After all, the 
 editors of Pascal have treated him with much more respect 
 when dead than they would have done while he was alive. 
 
RESTOKATIOlSr OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 61 
 
 They would have demanded many more sacrifices than they 
 have allowed themselves alterations. Death has secured us a 
 safe-guard to the religious individuality of the author. Let 
 him be Catholic and Jansenist. That is^what cannot be 
 disputed. But he is both the one and the other after his 
 own manner; perhaps not always to the extent that his 
 friends would have desired. By turns he makes use of 
 technical terms and neglects them ; his doctrine is plain 
 even when it is exact ; he is not a doctor, he is a man of 
 the world, and, what is still better, he is a man. For a long 
 time, it appears to me, religion had no apologists but pro- 
 fessional doctors. It needed an apologist of this new stamp, 
 since, in short, it is scarcely probable that a doctor can ever 
 become again a man. Pascal, in the old editions, and espe- 
 cially in the new, is such a one more than he believes, more 
 than he wishes. And perhaps it would not be very difficult 
 to distinguish the passages in which he is a Christian ac- 
 cording to the rule of his Church and his party, from those 
 in which he is a Christian after his own manner. 
 
 The apologetic method employed in the book of Thoughts 
 has a bearing which Pascal, clear-sighted and far-sighted 
 though he was, perhaps did not see. We shall better make 
 ourselves understood by retracing our steps a little. 
 
 In religion, the principle of examination always comes in 
 somewhere. We must, at the least, examine whether we 
 can believe without examination. The Catholic examines 
 as well as the Protestant. He examines the foundations of 
 the authority of the Church. Up to the point of his being 
 fully convinced of this authority, he acts the part of a Pro- 
 testant; he is a Protestant. The examination which devolves 
 upon him embraces a great number of very important ques- 
 
62 RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 tions. It would be difficult to say what questions it does 
 not involve. The whole space which extends between 
 Ontology and History, including these two extremes, be- 
 comes in succession the field of the discussion. The ques- 
 tions that present themselves are of such a nature, and of 
 such difficulty, that authority, if there be any authority, would 
 not be too much to resolve them, But there is no authority 
 as yet : we are but seeking for it. It is not upon authority 
 that authority can be founded. There might be the Scrip- 
 ture ; but to send us all alone to the Scripture, to leave the 
 question to be debated between the Scripture and us, that 
 would be to admit that we have a right to determine the 
 sense of the Scripture, without appeal to authority : it would 
 be to grant precisely what, under the system of authority, 
 is peremptorily denied us ; and it would be difficult to com- 
 prehend how this could be granted to us at one time, with- 
 out its being granted throughout, how the whole Protestant 
 system should not be included in this temporary concession. 
 Shall we have recourse to the Holy Spirit ? Be it so. Let 
 us suppose, then, that there is a Holy Spirit, an action of 
 the Spirit of God on the spirit of man — of the individual man, 
 I say, because, in the case supposed, it is an individual who 
 inquires and examines. The Spirit of God, then, is to be 
 bestowed on the individual ; but if this be possible at one 
 time, it is possible always. Authority is thenceforth useless. 
 The Holy Spirit takes the place of the Church. This is 
 what cannot be granted us by those who maintain the 
 principle of authority in religion. In strict logic, they are 
 obliged to confiscate the Holy Spirit to the profit of the 
 Church. 
 
 They send us back then — us inquirers — to natural reason, 
 
. RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 63 
 
 and to science, which is one of its acquisitions and one of 
 its instruments. On reason has devolved the solution of a 
 certain number of questions, of such a nature, and of such 
 difficulty, that we cannot conceive why authority has not 
 been applied, in the first instance, to the solution of these 
 very questions. It is an enormous imperfection, an incom- 
 prehensible gap in the system. We cannot see how that 
 reason which should be capable, of itself, of resolving these 
 questions, should not be capable, of itself, of arriving at the 
 true sense of the Scripture. Let us suppose that natural 
 reason capacitates a certain number of men to resolve them, 
 that number is very small. There remains an immense 
 multitude of minds to whom the thing is impossible, and 
 who nevertheless have need to be convinced of the authority 
 of the Church, since the Church is the pillar and ground of 
 the truth, inasmuch as it perpetually determines the sense 
 of the Divine oracles. The Scripture and the Holy Spirit 
 being put out of the question for all, and reason also perhaps 
 for all, and certainly for the immense majority, — what re- 
 mains 1 In virtue of what principle are we to believe in 
 authority? The accident of birth and of first impressions 
 will be all. Apart from this weakness, there is nought but 
 Protestantism, — but Protestantism throughout. We are 
 landed irrevocably in Protestantism, not by a particular 
 result of our examination, but by the fact of examining. 
 We must not examine for an instant, or we must examine 
 all through. 
 
 Pascal supposes, or rather he assumes, that, on examining 
 ourselves, and examining the contents of the Gospel with 
 our conscience, we cannot fail to attain to faith, the Holy 
 Spirit aiding us thereto. But, with him, faith is inseparable 
 
64 RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 from understanding. To believe is to comprehend with the 
 heart, with a new heart which the Holy Spirit bestows upon 
 us. The Holy Spirit, not the Church, is authoritative. Let 
 any one read the Thoughts attentively, and let him answer 
 this single question ; Is not the Church authority a super- 
 fluity in the system of Pascal ? It would be worth the trouble 
 to study, under this point of view, the invaluable fragments 
 which have now been presented to us in their integrity. 
 
 Having thus expressed, in a very general w 7 ay, the im- 
 pression which has been made upon me by this restoration 
 of Pascal, or rather, this Pascal restored, I must now give 
 some details as to the work of M. Faugere. 
 
 This w r ork is remarkable in every respect. I do not 
 speak of the material labour, which, independently of all 
 else, challenges our respect, and especially our gratitude. 
 It is doubtless a great matter that M. Faugere gives us a 
 complete text, perfectly pure, by deciphering an autograph 
 bristling with difficulties, collecting and comparing all the 
 manuscripts, referring to the originals for every part of the 
 text, rendering account not only of the preliminary jottings 
 of Pascal, but of his corrections, his erasions, his marginal 
 notes, all that may be called his hesitations, scruples, and 
 repentings as a w r riter, and much more the most secret 
 fluctuations of his thought. The patient and sagacious atten- 
 tion of the editor has produced important corrections in more 
 than one passage where the text appeared to be unalterably 
 fixed. For example, in the passage where the old editors made 
 Pascal say, speaking of the extreme divisibility of matter, u un 
 atome imperceptible" and where M. Cousin had read and 
 greatly admired u un raccourci o7abime" M. Faugere has 
 restored the proper reading, and has given us an expression 
 
RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 65 
 
 which, as he thinks, and as we think, has much more energy, 
 and especially much more accuracy, " un raccourci d'atome" 
 It was also a great boon to give us passages which no one of 
 the known manuscripts contains, letters and fragments bor- 
 rowed from quarters whose very existence was unknown. It 
 was also no small service to enable us constantly, and with- 
 out difficulty, to contrast the true text with the ordinary text. 
 Lastly, it was an important and valuable service to indicate 
 the source of the quotations, and to point out the numerous 
 cases in which the author of the Thoughts borrows from dif- 
 ferent writers whom he does not name, most frequently from 
 Montaigne. M. Faugere has done all this, and much more. 
 I shall not speak of his Introduction, an excellent biblio- 
 graphical and literary piece, all of which is valuable, and 
 the simple and grave style of which indicates a practised 
 writer. I confine myself to the book itself, and in the book, 
 to the arrangement of the materials. 
 
 The collection opens with some letters of Pascal, some 
 addressed to his family, and the rest to Mademoiselle de 
 Roannez. In order to make it intelligible that these cannot 
 place their author among the models of epistolary style, it 
 will perhaps be sufficient to quote this single expression 
 from the long letter to M. Perier : "Sur ce grand fondement, 
 je vous commencerai ce que j'ai a dire par un discours 
 (raisonnement) bien consolatif a ceux qui ont assez de liberte 
 d'esprit pour le concevoir au fort de la douleur." But if this 
 letter is not written in the taste of those of Voltaire or of 
 Madame de Sevigne, it is well to know that the better part 
 of one of the finest chapters of the Thoughts, in the old 
 editions, is borrowed from this letter. This one, therefore, 
 was not entirely unpublished ; but most of the others were ; 
 
66 RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 and when I state that this correspondence of Pascal occupies 
 sixty-two pages of the first volume, I need say no more to 
 show the value of the gift that has been presented to us by the 
 new editor of the Thoughts. It would be still better appre- 
 ciated if I could venture on quotations : I shall indulge 
 myself in one only ; but that will suffice for the purpose. 
 
 " I fear (Pascal writes to his sister) that here you do not 
 sufficiently distinguish between the things of which you 
 speak, and those of which the world speaks ; since it is be- 
 yond doubt that it is sufficient to have once learned these 
 latter things, and to have retained them so far as not to re- 
 quire to be taught them again ; whereas it is not sufficient to 
 have once comprehended those of the other kind, and to have 
 known them in a good way, that is to say, by the internal 
 operation of God, so as to preserve a like knowledge of them, 
 although we may well retain the recollection of them. There 
 is no reason why we should not be able to remember them, or 
 why we should not retain in our memory an epistle of St Paul 
 as easily as a book of Virgil. But the knowledge which we 
 acquire in this way, as well as the continuation of it, is but an 
 effect of memory ; whereas, in order that those who are of 
 heaven may understand this secret and strange language, it is 
 needful that the same grace which alone can give the first 
 understanding of it, should continue it and render it always 
 present, by graving it incessantly on the hearts of the faith- 
 ful, so as to keep it always alive ; as, in the blessed, God is con- 
 tinually renewing their beatitude, which is an effect and a con- 
 sequence of grace ; as also the Church holds that the Father 
 continually produces the Son, and maintains the eternity of 
 His being by an effusion of His own substance, which is 
 without interruption as well as without end." (I. p. 13.) 
 
RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 67 
 
 This is admirable. Readers may perhaps not so much 
 like, but they will not read without interest, as an indica- 
 tion of one of the tendencies of the Christianity of Port- 
 Royal, the letter in which Pascal exhorts Madame Perier 
 not to engage her daughter, still very young, " in that most 
 perilous and lowest of the conditions of Christianity;" this 
 condition being none other than that of marriage. Readers 
 who have not forgotten the interesting pages in which M. 
 Faugere speaks of Pascal's feelings towards Mademoiselle de 
 Roannez, will peruse with lively curiosity the letters ad- 
 dressed to that young lady. What they will find in them 
 is much better than what they seek, and that will, I fear, be 
 a disappointment. It is difficult to conceive aught more 
 impersonal than this correspondence. Pascal might have 
 written so from the abode of glory ; and if holy compassion 
 is not a stranger to that blessed abode, he might still from 
 that height let fall words like the following : 
 
 " When I come to think that these same persons may 
 fall, and be among the unhappy number of the condemned, 
 and that there are so many of them who will fall from glory, 
 and will, by their negligence, leave the crown to be taken 
 by others which God had offered to them, I cannot endure 
 the thought. And the fear of seeing them in the eternal 
 state of misery, after having, with so good reason, believed 
 them to be in the other state, makes me turn away my mind 
 from this idea, and have recourse to God, praying Him not 
 to abandon the feeble creatures whom He has gained to 
 Himself, and saying to Him, on behalf of the two persons 
 whom you know, what the Church still says with St Paul, 
 'Lord, Ihyself accomplish the work which Thou hast Thyself 
 begun: " (I. p. 42.) 
 
68 RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 M. Faugere has very suitably placed at the close of the 
 letters two well-known pieces, which reappear in his edition ; 
 the one as it is in all the editions, the other with a few alter- 
 ations. These are, the Prayer to ask of God the Improve- 
 ment of Sickness, and the Writing on the Conversion of a 
 Sinner, which issued from the pen of Pascal at the period of 
 what is commonly called his first conversion. Under the 
 title of a Preface to a Treatise on the Vacuum, we next find, 
 restored in many places, the text of the piece entitled by 
 the Abbe Bossuet Discourse on Authority in the matter of 
 Philosophy. Then comes the Discourse on the Passions of 
 Love, which had been previously published, but somewhat 
 less exactly, in the Revue des Deux-mondes. After M. 
 Cousin, after M. Faugere, shall we venture to speak of it ? 
 In our opinion, as in theirs, the authenticity of this wTiting 
 is proved by internal evidence. If the date be equally 
 certain, this discourse must have been written between the 
 two conversions of Pascal ; and w T e may form an idea of the 
 state of his mind in this interval, on reading these words: 
 " How happy is a life, wdien it begins with love and ends 
 with ambition ! If I had to choose a life, I should take this." 
 Pascal chose another, and did not end with ambition, at 
 least with worldly ambition. " I have ambition, but nobler 
 and finer." But if ever love, other than Divine love, were 
 worthy of the immortality of our nature, it is that of which 
 Pascal describes to us the passions (that is, the internal 
 emotions), and which he had without doubt experienced ; 
 for his procedure in this discourse is essentially that of ob- 
 servation, and the whole piece is an incomparable mixture 
 of subtle analysis and lively intuition. " Things are often 
 written (says he) which cannot be proved otherwise than by 
 
RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 69 
 
 requiring all men to reflect on themselves, and to experience 
 the truth of what is said. In this consists the force of the 
 proofs of what I say." What a pity that Pascal did not 
 write another discourse on the Passions of Ambition I An 
 ambition of the same stamp with this love, what a marvel 
 would it not be ! We have difficulty in realising it, and 
 the ambitions which we have the opportunity of observing 
 can scarcely help us to form an idea of it. It is remarkable 
 that he who has referred all morality to thought, should have 
 made of love, born, as he admits, of the senses, an act or a 
 phenomenon of the soul. Besides that he does not admit 
 the possibility of love except as dating from the age " when 
 we begin to be disturbed by the reason," he declares that 
 "in proportion as one has more mind, his passions are 
 greater, because, the passions being only sentiments and 
 thoughts which belong purely to the mind, however they 
 may be occasioned by the body, it is evident that they are 
 no more than the mind itself, and that thus they fill all its 
 capacity." A little further on he uses terms which might 
 appear strange. " The purity of the mind causes the purity 
 of the passion." — " We are born (he says elsewhere) with 
 a character of love in our hearts, which is developed in pro- 
 portion as the mind is perfected, and which leads us to love 
 what appears to us beautiful." All this carries us far enough 
 away from Scenes of Life in Paris, and even from the 
 Nouvelle Heloise. J. J. Rousseau, who would fain, in his 
 compassion for his age, have made it " reascend to love," 
 did not flatter himself, I imagine, and has not attempted, to 
 make it reascend so high as this. This love which is of 
 thought, this love which is the mind itself, whence had Pascal 
 derived the idea of it ? Was it only in his great soul, or 
 
70 RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 was this idea diffused in the world at the time when he 
 wrote ? This second supposition does not appear to be with- 
 out foundation. It is thus that among certain people love 
 was described; and I am not afraid to add that, up to a cer- 
 tain point, it must have been felt as it was described. With- 
 out employing terms so absolute as Pascal does, we must 
 acknowledge that thought mixes itself up with all our pas- 
 sions ; that it modifies and transforms them at its pleasure ; 
 and that, immediately beyond the sensations and the con- 
 sciousness, begins a life in which our belief becomes a certain 
 power, and in which it is sufficient to believe that a thing 
 is, in order that it may be in fact. From age to age we in- 
 vent new sentiments ; instincts are stationary; sensations 
 are limited ; conscience in all things has but one word, and 
 that word admits of no synonym. Thought, w r hich sees in 
 all things fixed points, but without extension, makes each 
 of them a centre for its own activity, and develops all 
 without displacing aught. Thought at all times, but most 
 of all in the seventeenth century, has been mixed up with 
 love, and love has become a passion of the mind. That 
 which Pascal felt, and what he has so well described, was 
 assuredly of a choice edition, of which there were few copies. 
 But I am not the less disposed to believe that it was the re- 
 print of a text, less excellent without doubt, but already 
 well purged. Could ambition have been idealised to the 
 same degree ? How fine it would have been, I repeat it, to 
 learn it thus from Pascal ! But rather let us congratulate 
 this great mind as having been stopped on the way, and 
 never having arrived at it. 
 
 Meantime, we are glad that he has known love in such 
 purity, and that he has known it. " Thou wert a man," 
 
RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 71 
 
 says Lamartine to Homer ; u we perceive it by thy tears." 
 If other proofs failed, we should perceive thus that Pascal 
 was a man, and for most people this will be the best proof. 
 I do not conceal, for my own part, the pleasure which this 
 discovery occasioned me, since, without lessening Pascal, it 
 brings him somewhat more within reach of all men, and 
 permits us to love a little more familiarly him whom we 
 loved doubtless (for who is there that loves not Pascal?), 
 but whom we loved so far off and so high above us. How 
 are we to pass now, as the order of this volume requires us, 
 to the discourse on the Geometrical Spirit ? Pascal would 
 be astonished at our embarrassment ; for, in the discourse on 
 the Passions of Love, he anticipates, in the most natural way 
 in the world, this other subject by this expression, which 
 we meet without any surprise, so well are we prepared for 
 it by what goes before. " There are two sorts of mind, the 
 one geometrical, and the other what we may call that of 
 subtlety. . . When the two go together, what pleasure 
 does love give !" Let us leave frivolous souls, consequently 
 little formed for true love, to make light of this geometry, 
 without which they say that they have got on very well 
 hitherto ; and let us believe, on the authority of Pascal, in 
 the potency of the geometrical spirit in a passion of the 
 thought. After the piece now referred to comes the frag- 
 ment on the Art of Persuading. Then come Divers Thoughts; 
 that is to say, all the shorter fragments which could not be 
 connected with more important articles, and which do not 
 appear to have belonged, in Pascal's intention, to the apology 
 for Christianity. A considerable number of these thoughts 
 appear now for the first time. In most cases the first 
 editors are excusable, even justifiable, in having suppressed 
 
72 RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 them ; but not always. I understand why they kept back 
 this thought : — " It is not the nature of man to be always 
 advancing ; he has his goings and his comings." Perhaps 
 they remembered that Pascal had elsew T here said, " All the 
 succession of men through the course of so many ages, ought 
 to be considered as one man, who subsists always, and is 
 always learning." But what led to the suppression of the 
 following thought ? — " Must we kill men in order that there 
 may be no criminals ? This is only to make two instead of 
 one." This quotation has been lost to the advocates of the 
 abolition of capital punishments. 
 
 This thought also ought to have escaped proscription : 
 " Ordinary people have the power of not thinking of what 
 they do not wish to think of. i Do not think of the pas- 
 sages of the Messiah,' said the Jew to his son. This our 
 own people often do. Thus false religions are preserved, 
 and even the true religion, in the esteem of many persons. 
 But there are people who have not the pow r er thus to refrain 
 from thinking, and who think so much the more because 
 they are forbidden to do so. These persons rid themselves 
 of false religions, and even of the true, if they do not find 
 solid reasonings." 
 
 If Pascal is a Pyrrhonist, at all events it is not here. 
 Will this thought cause those to enter into themselves who, 
 in religion — I say, in the religion of free inquiry, — continually 
 put tradition in place of proof? Will it cause to look to 
 their ways those minds which flatter themselves that they 
 are not " ordinary people," and who nevertheless habitually 
 travel zigzag across the Gospel, avoiding with the happiest 
 art all the passages which contradict their system — all of 
 St Paul that is in St John, or of St John that is in St Paul ? 
 
RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 73 
 
 I have said that this is an art ; but it must be rather an 
 instinct. For if it were an art, that of passing dry between 
 the drops of a heavy shower would not be more marvellous. 
 On every subject, religious or otherwise, the talent of seeing 
 only what one wishes to see is one of the most frightful which 
 the devil has succeeded in teaching to men. 
 
 One thought more, which ought not to have been with- 
 held from the public. 
 
 " The peculiar property of everything ought to be sought 
 after ; the peculiar property of power is to protect." 
 
 It is political power that is under discussion. Perhaps 
 the peculiar property of this power is rather to act, but its 
 end is certainly to protect. In general, all force ought to 
 resolve itself into benefits, and finds its vindication only in 
 this employment of itself. The power which does not pre- 
 serve, or which does not create, is meaningless. 
 
 What has been derisively called the Amulet comes next, 
 in a corrected text. The entire submission to Jesus Christ 
 and to my director is thrown into a note, as not being suffi- 
 ciently authenticated for admission into the text. 
 
 What follows is the celebrated profession of faith ; / love 
 poverty, etc. ; which the first editors introduced into the 
 apology for Christianity, because their plan did not permit 
 them to find any other place for it. The new editor remarks 
 that this profession of faith at first began with these two 
 lines, which Pascal afterwards blotted out : a I love all men 
 as my brethren, because they are all redeemed." 
 
 The thoughts on Eloquence arid Style, so generally known, 
 come after this profession of faith. The character of these 
 thoughts, too few in number, and of which Fenelon's dia- 
 logues on eloquence appear to be the worthy pendant, is 
 
74 RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 well known. To strip truth of all its coverings, even to the 
 last; to leave nothing, and especially to put nothing, between 
 the object and the mind which contemplates it ; to write as 
 a man and not as a writer, is the whole substance of this 
 too short chapter. I am glad to meet here this maxim, 
 suggested apparently by the reading of Martial's Epigrams : 
 u We ought to please those who have human and tender 
 feelings." Is it not people wholly different that we, makers 
 of epigrams, of histories, of treatises, flatter ourselves that we 
 please ? Are the applauses of the wicked the least coveted? 
 The pages which follow, entirely unpublished till now, 
 are not those that we are the least indebted to M. 
 Faugere for having collected. That chapter, which may 
 be considered as an appendix to the Provincial Letters, is 
 composed of thoughts, or rather of notes, on the Jesuits 
 and Jansenists. " It is with a sentiment of very lively 
 curiosity (says the editor) that we have found these sketches, 
 hitherto unknown, these rapid indications which rushed out, 
 under the first inspiration of genius, to become ere long the 
 master-piece in our language." Who is there that will not 
 share the emotion of M. Faugere ? Pascal, speaking only 
 for himself, and questioning himself, as it were, upon his 
 own thought, is here more living, if possible, than in his 
 finished work. The gold is to be encrusted in the stone, 
 but here we see it run all burning; and more than one secret 
 emotion, which could not find its way into a book, is here 
 betrayed after two centuries. I shall only quote one pas- 
 sage ; but it has its value, and, I will add, its application at 
 all times. " If there ever be a time when we ought to make 
 profession of two contrary beliefs, it is when we are re- 
 proached for omitting one of them. Therefore the Jesuits 
 
RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 75 
 
 and the Jansenists are both at fault in concealing them ; 
 but the Jansenists most, for the Jesuits have made the 
 better profession of the two." Is this the opinion of Pascal ? 
 Is it an objection which he proposes to answer ? I know 
 not. But that is an excellent principle which he lays down 
 at the commencement. Let us treasure it in our hearts. 
 
 Further on (in his Thoughts and Notes for the Provincials), 
 M. Faugere opens to us the studio of the great artist, and 
 in those thousand scattered fragments we recognise at the 
 first glance, so inimitable is the cut of his chisel, the most 
 celebrated passages in Pascal's master-piece. They are 
 rough notes, often the beginnings and the terminations of 
 passages ; but who, full of recollections of the work, can per- 
 use them without a lively interest? It is more than an interest 
 of curiosity ; for if it is only amusing to recognise in the 
 words mentiris impudentissime, thrown out in the middle of 
 passages that have no reference to them, the germ of one of 
 the best known and often est quoted passages in the Provin- 
 cials, it is instructive to find in its state of imperfection and 
 sketch what the talent of Pascal has rendered so perfect in 
 the execution of his design. Several of the Thoughts on 
 the Pope and the Church are published for the first time ; 
 and the piece entitled by Bossuet, a comparison of the ancient 
 Christians with those of our own day, a much bolder essay 
 than the author supposed it to be, forms part of these 
 thoughts. The conversation with Saci on Epictetus and Mon- 
 taigne, is presented to us under the form of a dialogue, as 
 Fontaine had preserved it. That with M. de Eoannez, on 
 the condition of the great, is given us without any change. 
 Some words, spoken by Pascal in conversation, and placed by 
 his friends in his apologetic work, close this precious volume. 
 
76 RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 A first and rapid examination of the second volume gives 
 rise, in the first instance, to a sort of disappointment. In 
 the old editions it was almost a book ; here, very evidently, 
 it is but notes. And M. Faugere having rigorously ex- 
 cluded all that Pascal had not intended to form part of his 
 great work, the volume, notwithstanding the restoration of 
 a great number of passages which are not in the old editions, 
 appears poorer, and in some sort attenuated. But nothing 
 is lost, since all that has been kept back is found elsewhere ; 
 and if the book has less the air of a book, it is in fact 
 much better arranged, and places us in a much better posi- 
 tion to discover Pascal's plan. It has generally been 
 admitted that the first editors conformed, as far as was pos- 
 sible, in respect of the order of the thoughts, to the intentions 
 of the author. But the work of M. Faugere shows that 
 this is a mistake. There is, for the arrangement of the 
 materials, something better than the recollection of the con- 
 versation reported by M. Perier ; there are the titles, which 
 the new editor has restored, of the principal divisions of the 
 book. And these titles are sometimes so remarkable, that 
 it required some courage to suppress them. Thus one of 
 the most important chapters had been entitled Deceptive 
 Powers. There is some eloquence even in this simple com- 
 bination of words. But these titles, which have guided M. 
 Faugere, might have guided his predecessors. Why have 
 not they given as the Preface the piece which Pascal has 
 distinguished by that title ? Whereas they have made it 
 the second article of the volume, and have converted into 
 a first or introductory article a chapter on the contradictions 
 or disproportions in human nature, which evidently belongs 
 to the body of the work. Why did they not maintain the 
 
RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 77 
 
 general division which Pascal had expressly indicated by 
 the two following titles: — First Part — Wretchedness of man 
 ivithout God, or, that nature is corrupted by nature itself. 
 Second Part — Happiness of man with God, or, that there is a 
 restorer by the Scripture? The more we stndy the new 
 edition, the more we shall be persuaded that M. Faugere 
 has fallen, almost exactly, upon the true plan of the work. 
 In this way he has brought us, in some sort, nearer to the 
 author ; and no one can conceive, before examining this 
 work, how in it the author appears more present, more liv- 
 ing. It is like passing from the saloon to the closet. 
 
 This volume is not less remarkable than the preceding for 
 the numerous passages in which the editor, following the 
 manuscripts, corrects the corrections, often unhappy, and 
 oftener useless, of the first editors. I shall cite only one 
 example ; but it will be found worthy of being cited. All 
 the world has read, in Article XVIL, this thought, " I 
 willingly believe the histories whose witnesses submit to 
 death ;" and all the world, perhaps, on reading it, has shaken 
 its head, since, in short, if we were to believe all the histories 
 whose witnesses have submitted to death, we should be in 
 danger of believing at once several histories which contra- 
 dict one another. But M. Faugere assures us that what 
 Pascal wrote was this, " I believe no histories but those 
 whose witnesses would submit to death;" a more truthful 
 saying, however paradoxical in appearance, and which is 
 even not without depth. Certainly I may believe a history 
 whose witness does not offer his life in pledge of his vera- 
 city ; for the belief of this history may not merit such a 
 sacrifice, and the witness may not think it worthy of it. 
 It may be very true and very credible in the absence of 
 
78 RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 these two conditions. But when the question is as to a his- 
 tory for which it were right, if it be true, to give one's life ; 
 if it obtain not this sacrifice, if it inspire not this devoted- 
 ness, if it have not rendered itself mistress of the whole heart 
 of any of those who attest it, we may boldly declare that it 
 is not true.* Several men attesting that God has come 
 down to earth, and that by taking upon Himself all the suf- 
 ferings and all the shame of our condition, Pie has saved us 
 for ever, and no one of them showing himself disposed to 
 give his life for this truth, it is too evident that here is a 
 history false and destitute of proofs, since, if the fact is true, 
 if God has made this prodigious sacrifice, — let us take lower 
 though still high ground, — if a crucified person has risen 
 from the dead after three davs, it is without doubt in order 
 that the heart of man may be subdued to God, and 
 thoroughly renewed ; an effect which evidently has not been 
 produced, if no one were willing to do for the attestation of 
 the truth of this history what thousands have done for the 
 most unimportant interests, if no one were willing to die for 
 it. What the editors have made Pascal say is not absolutely 
 false, if they have understood merely that the sight of wit- 
 nesses so devoted creates a prejudice in their favour, and 
 disposes us to hear them. But the expression of the editors 
 carries the thought further, and too far. That of Pascal, 
 leaving something to be supplied which everybody supplies 
 without difficulty, is within the limits of exact truth. 
 
 In respect of variations, or rather of the traces which here 
 
 and there remain of Pascal's progressive labour upon one 
 
 and the same thought, this volume is still more interesting 
 
 than the former. Every one will remark the twofold copy 
 
 * See Appendix, Note L. 
 
RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 79 
 
 of the preface ; and every one will be astonished to see Pas- 
 cal recompose a considerable piece in order to strip it of most 
 of its finest traits, and reduce it, in some sort, to its elements. 
 M. Faugere considers that " Pascal's choice was undecided, 
 since he has not deleted either of the two fragments ;" but 
 it appears that that which we consider inferior was composed 
 last. It is difficult to doubt it. And if we are not wrong 
 in preferring the first version, it would be curious to in- 
 quire, but perhaps impossible to discover, the reasons which 
 led him, if not to prefer, at least to attempt, the second 
 edition. Something in the first displeased him. What was 
 it then ? Nothing in it displeases us ; all appears to us ex- 
 cellent. It is well to inform the reader that the piece in 
 question is the first half of the admirable article entitled in 
 the old editions, Of the necessity of studying religion. 
 
 Let us speak lastly of the additions, or of the fragments, 
 longer or shorter, which we now possess for the first time, 
 thanks to the cares of the new editor. These are numerous 
 in this volume, and some of them are of great value. Un- 
 doubtedly the most important is the piece extending from 
 p. 338 to p. 345 of this volume, and entitled by the author 
 himself, The mystery of Jesus. It forms part of the chapter 
 entitled, Of Jesus Christ. u Among the number of unpub- 
 lished fragments which we insert in this chapter (says M. 
 Faugere), we must specify that one which Pascal has entitled, 
 The mystery of Jesus. Written with a sort of melancholic 
 effusion, continuously, and almost without erasures, these 
 pages are remarkable for the thoroughly mystic character 
 with which they are impressed. The reader will be espe- 
 cially struck with the passage in which the author, wrapt 
 into a tender contemplation, sees Jesus Christ present, con- 
 
80 RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 verses with Him, hears His word and answers it. We might 
 suppose ourselves reading a chapter of the De Imitatione. 
 We shall not attempt to express it otherwise. This is, in 
 fact, the character of this precious fragment, of which we 
 shall only detach some sentences. 
 
 " Jesus will be in agony till the end of the world. No 
 sleep for Him during this time." 
 
 " Be comforted. You would not seek me, but that you 
 have found me." 
 
 "Be penitent for your secret sins, and for the hidden 
 malignity of those that you know." 
 
 Several of the previously unpublished thoughts contained 
 in this second volume had their synonyms or their equivalents 
 in the old editions ; but added to the thoughts already pub- 
 lished, they deepen their impression, and render more sen- 
 sible certain tendencies of the mind and the religion of Pas- 
 cal which were already known. I will even venture to say 
 that, frequently enough, what the old text made only per- 
 ceptible, becomes considerable and capital in the text of M. 
 Faugere. I shall not speak of the Pessimism of Pascal, 
 which is far more evident than his Pyrrhonism, and which, 
 in the balance into which this great mind heaped the ele- 
 ments of his religious conviction, weighed much more, I be- 
 lieve, than the insufficiency of our means of knowledge. Of 
 the two wants with which human nature is continually dis- 
 tressed, that of happiness is not only the more universally 
 felt, and the more constantly experienced, it is also the more 
 imperious. And this want is not purely sensual ; it is intel- 
 lectual. It is not only for the soul, it is also for the mind, 
 that happiness is a necessity. Happiness makes part of 
 truth. To yearn for it pure, entire, unalterable, has there- 
 
RESTOEATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 81 
 
 fore naught in it that dishonours us ; and the man most set 
 free from the dominion of the senses, the most disinterested 
 man, does not, in this sense, yearn for it less intensely than 
 the miser, the voluptuary, and the selfish man. From this 
 want, very noble in this point of view, results a more or less 
 severe estimate of human destiny, submitted to our judgment 
 under the same title and in the same manner as moral 
 actions. Great minds have professed optimism ; but opti- 
 mism is condemned. The wisdom of nature and the wisdom 
 of Christianity have agreed in its condemnation. It is true 
 that from the same judgment they have drawn very different 
 conclusions ; but it is only here that the separation between 
 them begins. I a m wrong. Even in their estimate of the 
 facts, they could not but differ on many points ; but it 
 is enough that, on the whole, they have given the same 
 verdict. A serious philosophy is of necessity a pessimist 
 philosophy. Pessimism is one of the doctrines, or one of 
 the foundations of the doctrine, of Pascal. At bottom, if we 
 take any account of judgments in detail, the whole world, 
 in one sense or another, is really pessimist. People may 
 say, in general terms, that all goes on well ; but from hour 
 to hour, who is there that is content, even among the happy, 
 yea especially among the happy ? Who is there that is 
 content, except those who, with St Paul, and in the same 
 school with St Paul, have learned to be content ? Add to- 
 gether the disappointments and the murmurings, and tell 
 us if Pessimism is not the result. In practice, Pascal is not 
 among the discontented, speculatively he is ; or, if you will, 
 he is not a pessimist personally, but he is on account and in 
 name of the universe. The simple restitution of some 
 thoughts which the old editors had set aside, makes this 
 
82 RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 essentially speculative and intellectual sadness in his work 
 still more gloomy. But I am still more struck with 
 another of his views, to which the restoration of the true 
 text of the Thoughts has given, as it appears to me, an en- 
 tirely new relief. I allude to what was, in the view of this 
 great man, the nature or the condition of faith. 
 
 We have already seen him carefully exclude habit from 
 the number of the elements of faith, among which, instead, 
 he allows a perfectly legitimate place to the will. We shall 
 find him notwithstanding, in this volume, propose for re- 
 ligious inquiries, what Descartes has proposed for philoso- 
 phical investigations, that is, to operate, as much as possible, 
 under the receiver, and in a perfect vacuum. Such ap- 
 pears to me to be the purport of several passages ; — of this 
 among others. " So far from having heard anything being 
 the rule of your belief, you ought to believe nothing without 
 putting yourself in a condition as if you had never heard 
 it." Noble thought ! Elementary Protestantism, which is 
 at the foundation of all serious conviction, and of which his- 
 torical Protestantism is but an application, more or less 
 happy. Examination, — I do not say individual examina- 
 tion, for that would be an inadmissible pleonasm, — is then, 
 in principle, at the beginning of the religion of every one, 
 at the beginning of the belief even of the Catholic. The 
 Catholic must of necessity set out by being a Protestant. 
 All serious men belong to this elementary, abstract, and 
 preliminary religion, up to a point where the road, dividing, 
 opens two ways, — in one of which the Catholic proceeds, 
 under the banner of the authority of the Church ; in the 
 other the Protestant (in the historical acceptation of the 
 term), under the auspices of the authority of the Scriptures. 
 
RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 83 
 
 If science had been necessary for them in order to reach 
 the point of divergence, it is evident that only a very small 
 number could ever reach it, or even put themselves on the 
 road. That is to say, in other words, that religion in general 
 is the affair only of the learned, and even only of the very 
 learned, if we consider the present time. If, on the con- 
 trary, in order to arrive at the point where the separation 
 takes place, — the point at which, being already Christian, 
 the choice is to be made between the two communions ; — 
 if, I say, in order to reach this point, science has not been 
 necessary, if we have been able, without the aid of history, 
 of criticism, and of philosophy, to rise to the conviction of 
 the truth of Christianity, we have succeeded by means of 
 the heart, or of the Holy Spirit, or perhaps by these two 
 means combined. The question is, to know whether these, 
 having been sufficient up to this point, will not be sufficient 
 beyond it. I only state the question ; and now return to 
 Pascal, to quote from him some words which are not found 
 in the ordinary text. 
 
 " It is the agreement of yourself with yourself and the 
 constant voice of your reason, and not that of others, which 
 should make you believe." 
 u To believe is so important." 
 " A hundred contradictions might be true." 
 " If antiquity were the rule of belief, the ancients must 
 have been ivithout ruler 
 
 What was it that led to the exclusion of these thoughts ? 
 Was it their obscurity ? I admit that they are not without 
 it. But how many others, in the old editions, are still less 
 clear ! There was then some other reason. Kind reader, 
 I leave you to seek for it. I leave you also to reflect at 
 
84 RESTORATION OF PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 
 
 leisure on the text which I have transcribed. It is not so 
 obscure but that you can disentangle from it some distinct 
 idea, and draw from it some conclusion. Were the book of 
 the Thoughts composed entirely of similar fragments, as ob- 
 scure, as detached, as abrupt, it would still be a book of 
 immense value. Considerably numerous difficulties, some 
 errors, even contradictions, cannot form a reason why we 
 should set ourselves in opposition to the public admiration 
 which this book has so long enjoyed. Though it has let 
 some irreverent words fall upon Descartes, we will not, in 
 our turn, speak of it w T ith irreverence. On sight of it as 
 it is, as Pascal left it to us, our respect is increased, we 
 love it better, because, under this form, it better exhibits to 
 us the candour and the mental courage of the great man 
 into whose intimacy we are introduced. We conclude 
 therefore, as we began, with w 7 ell- deserved thanks to M. 
 Faugere for having piously collected these venerable, these 
 sacred ruins. 
 
I>ASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 85 
 
 III. 
 
 PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 
 
 Of what elements was that rare individuality composed, 
 which appeared in the w T orld under the name of Blaise 
 Pascal ? To this inquiry, gentlemen, we have devoted the 
 last moments of our last interview. The external life of 
 Pascal is of some assistance to us in this work; but his 
 writings, especially his Thoughts, those secret monologues 
 or intimate dialogues of Pascal with himself, will aid us 
 still more. For the sake of brevity, I have thought it 
 good to proceed synthetically, — that is to say, to begin by 
 announcing the results, and adding the proofs, or at least the 
 indications of the proofs. 
 
 At the head of the attributes of this so remarkable indi- 
 viduality, I have placed individuality itself. However dis- 
 credited from its birth by very indiscreet usage, the word 
 does not frighten me. I am not afraid that any of you will 
 combine in an imaginary brotherhood two sworn enemies, 
 individualism and individuality. The former is the obstacle 
 and the negation of all society ; to the latter society is in- 
 debted for all its attractiveness, its life and its reality. We 
 are all at one on this point, t hat dead members cannot 
 form a livin g body , and that society can only be worth what 
 we are worth who compose it. None of us deify that brute 
 force of the civilised ages, which is falsely called public 
 opinion. Despot for despot ; a man, a Napoleon, is worth as 
 
86 FASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 
 
 much as those miasmata which lay hold on the mind, infect 
 the moral world, and are little more than recollections, fears 
 and hopes, under the fair name of ideas. The thought of 
 the individual is not formed, either apart from society or with- 
 out it ; but it is the individual, and not society, that thinks, 
 believes, and loves ; and if he borrows from it, as doubt- 
 less he does borrow, some of the elements of his thought, 
 he does not borrow his thought itself. In this respect, he 
 ought at once to make use of society and to defend himself 
 against it. He ought even, when he has not succeeded in 
 defending himself, to do what depends on him to regain his 
 conquest over it ; and it is one of the glories of Christianity 
 that it has consecrated this important duty in the highest 
 sphere. It has not, by consecrating it, weakened, but rather 
 strengthened society. And if you take the word society in 
 the full force of its meaning, you may say that it is with 
 Christianity that it begins, and from Christianity that it 
 takes its rise. All that developes in souls the principle of 
 faith, of duty, of thought, and of liberty — individual things, 
 adds to the strength of society. 
 
 I am not afraid, therefore, to place in the rank, and in 
 the first rank, of the traits which render the character of 
 Pascal so eminent, his profound individuality ; by which 
 I understand nought else than the gift of being himself, the 
 privilege of having thoughts and feelings of his own, and 
 not living by borrowing in these two respects, as is too 
 J often the case with men who otherwise are well constituted. 
 Every man, whether he will or no, has his individuality, 
 but not every man has individuality. A man is, in a 
 passive sen se, different from his neighbour, different from 
 all the world ; and our defects, in their different degrees, 
 
TASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAX. 87 
 
 and their different combinations, render us, alas ! only too 
 individual. I speak of a certain degree of independence or 
 internal activity, which does not permit us to be reducedjo 
 simple receptivity, and which, without making us spurn the 
 ideas and the opinions that come to us from without, enables 
 us to react upon them in such sort that they become our 
 property rather than we become theirs. I say activity, be- 
 cause, in matters of intellect and morals, to be and to act are 
 one and the same thing ; and I add, that individuality is in 
 proportion not to the frequent use, but to the intensity, of 
 this activity, or this reaction. Individ uality is the founda- 
 tion of our proper value ; for, in order that we may be any- 
 thing, it is necessary, first of all, that we be ; or, in other 
 words, that our qualities be our own. In this sense, indi- 
 viduality is rare ; and it is no exaggeration to say that most 
 men, instead of dwelling at home, live with others, and are, 
 as it were^io let/ in their opinions and their morals, for a 
 longer or a shorter time ; but this difference goes for nothing. 
 Intelligence and development of mind are not sure guaran- 
 tees of individuality : Pascal did not find it common amongst 
 writers. " Certain authors (says he), speaking of their 
 works, say, My book, my commentary, my history, etc. They 
 feel like citizens who have i a gable on the street/ and who 
 have always the words my house in their mouths. They 
 ought rather to say, Our book, our commentary, our history, 
 etc., seeing that ordinarily there is more in it of the property 
 of others than of their own." 
 
 As for Pascal, he has H a gable on the street," and 
 nothing hinders his saying, My Thoughts. His voice is not 
 an echo ; or, if it be an echo, it is that of conscience ; — I 
 mean intellectual as well as moral conscience. Every 
 
88 PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 
 
 mind has probably ideas of its own; 1 but it is not every 
 mind that can penetrate to its own ideas through the succes- 
 sive layers formed of the ideas of others, or of all the world, 
 with which our own are always covered to a certain depth. 
 The matter is then to reach one's self. The sounding-line of 
 this sort of Artesian well is neither logic nor analysis, which 
 may, with respect to certain subjects, lead us to truth, but 
 not to ourselves. The sounding-line, to which I do not seek 
 to give a name, is something more native, and less compli- 
 cated. It is a certain courage of mind, and perhaps of 
 character, which does not always distinguish the most intel- 
 ligent or the most learned, and w T hich, though it does not 
 lead us immediately to the truth, is nevertheless one of the 
 most valuable instruments of this research ; because, before 
 inquiring, and in order to inquire aright, we must first have 
 found the I which is the agent in the research. We are 
 under great obligations to those who have known how to 
 separate and recognise their own voice in the midst of the 
 confused jumble of so many strange voices, in which our own 
 is so easily lost, till it becomes to us the strangest of all. 
 
 The education of Pascal came to the aid of his birth, as 
 regards individuality. He was — at least we have grounds 
 for believing that he was — of the number of those men who 
 have been educated in accordance with their nature. Let 
 
 1 Is this perchance what Pascal meant when he said, " In proportion as 
 one has more mind, he finds that there are more men of originality"? It 
 is because with his mind he compels them to be or to show what they are. 
 Descartes had already said, " In the corruption of our morals, there are 
 few people who would wish to say all that they believe ; but this also 
 causes that many people do not know themselves : for the act of thought 
 by which one believes a thing being different from that by which he 
 knows that he believes it, there is often the one without the other." 
 
PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 89 
 
 us add, that the studies to which he devoted the first part 
 of his career, concurred with his nature and his education 
 to preserve his individuality. I know that, at a later period, 
 he professed at least a relative contempt for those studies, — 
 I mean the abstract or objective sciences. " The knowledge 
 of external things cannot, in time of affliction, compensate 
 to me for ignorance of morals ; but the knowledge of 
 morals can always compensate to me for ignorance of ex- 
 ternal sciences." He has gone still further ; — he has said, 
 on the subject of the study of man, so superior, according to 
 him, to the study of the abstract sciences ; " Is it not so, 
 that this is not the knowledge which man ought to have, 
 and that for his happiness it is better for him to be without 
 it?" All this may be true; but it is no hindrance to our 
 believing that Pascal's exclusive application to mathematics 
 and natural philosophy during his youth was for him a safe- 
 guard of individuality. These sciences, I believe, exercise 
 it little, but they do not compromise it. Sciences of another 
 sort — literature, for example — excite and develop it; but 
 they threaten it, because, making the inner man come out 
 from his retreat, they bring him more into contact with the 
 life of all, and oblige him perhaps to receive from them more 
 than he ought. Mathematics have so little of this incon- 
 venience that they would be liable to one quite opposite, if 
 man could be exclusively a mathematician. Pascal, who is 
 entitled to belief on this subject, has not he said somewhere, 
 " He is a good mathematician, one will say ; but I have 
 not to do only with mathematics : he would take me for a 
 proposition " ? It is a great defect, doubtless, to take men 
 for propositions ; but, in short, few men are wholly geome- 
 tricians. Necessity, nature, have taken care of that up to a 
 
 n 
 
90 PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 
 
 certain point. One may be a geometrician and not cease 
 to be a man. One and the same man — you should know it, 
 gentlemen — may be at once a good geometrician and a good 
 poet. But at present we have not to do with the dangers of 
 the abstract sciences, but with one of their advantages : they 
 economise individuality ; and it is thus that the individu- 
 ality of Pascal was so remarkably preserved. 
 
 No one will be surprised at such a man's having pro- 
 tested strenuously against the abuse of authority in the mat- 
 ter of science. This is the peculiar subject of the preface 
 which he has prefixed to his Treatise on a Vacuum, a preface 
 characteristic at once of the epoch and the author. Autho- 
 rity will always be, in questions that are debated among the 
 learned, more regarded than it ought to be. Still no one 
 will ever plead the cause as Pascal pleaded it ; and why ? 
 Because he has gained it. But it was not gained before he 
 took it in hand; and his preface was not superfluous. 
 Science was in reality at war with the principle of authority. 
 Liberty of thought, or, if you prefer it, the sovereignty of 
 facts, had need of a defender ; and who fitter for the service 
 than Pascal ? This short treatise reflects him at full length. 
 Never did conviction more resemble an inward feeling ; 
 never were temperament and thought more strictly in ac- 
 cordance. Here he maintains, long before the Provincials, 
 the same doctrine which you have seen him defend in the 
 eighteenth of these letters. 1 He is so much the stronger 
 against authority, because he first takes its part, and because 
 nothing, in this legitimate and necessary concession, indicates 
 aught but satisfaction. What we cannot know but by reve- 
 
 1 Still M. Faugere has reason to say that "Pascal always avoided com- 
 mitting his opinion on the system of Copernicus and Galileo ;" for in this 
 
PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 91 
 
 lation, he hands over to revelation ; what falls nnder the 
 senses, he makes, without any reserve, the province of ob- 
 servation, which is as sovereign in its sphere as is revelation 
 in its. Further, he does not admit that observation and 
 revelation, that is to say, two truths, can be in contradiction, 
 at least continuously or conclusively. Speaking of the 
 ancients, he dissipates what may be called the_ optical illu- 
 sion that is so common. " Comparing the whole succession^ 
 of men, during the course of so many ages, to a single man \ 
 living always and continually learning," he concludes that j 
 " those whom we call ancients were in reality novices in all 
 things, and constituted the infancy of humanity;"* which/ 
 reduces their authority over us to that which infants might 
 have over full-grown men. 
 
 When the author of the Thoughts engaged in researches 
 of which religious truth was the object, his individuality, far 
 from being held in abeyance, asserted itself more loftily and 
 more bravely. The act of most perfect submission appeared 
 to him rightfully to claim the most perfect liberty. No one, 
 on questions of sovereign importance, ever discarded more 
 peremptorily all party feeling, all preconceived opinions. 
 The more the authority, when Pascal shall have acknow- 
 ledged it, over his mind and over his life is to be absolute, 
 the more, in his search after that authority, does he discard 
 authority. He retires and shuts himself up within himself. 
 
 18th letter he says no more than this : "It was also in vain that you ob- 
 tained against Galileo a decree of Rome, which condemned his opinion 
 respecting the motion of the earth. That decree will never prove that it 
 remains at rest ; and if we had coincident observations which should prove 
 that it revolves, all mankind together would not prevent its turning, and 
 would not prevent themselves from turning along with it." 
 * See Appendix, Note M. 
 
92 PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 
 
 He shuts the gate against all suggestions, all solicitations ; 
 he wishes, for the transaction of this great business, to re- 
 main alone with himself. Descartes, in an investigation of 
 the same kind, did not more strictly isolate himself. 
 
 Under the most different forms, the appeal to individuality 
 in the matter of religion is repeated very often in the book 
 of the Thoughts. " So far (he says, for example) from having 
 heard anything being the rule of your belief, that you ought 
 to believe nothing without putting yourself into a position 
 as if you had never heard it. It is the agreement of your- 
 self with yourself, and the constant voice of your own reason, 
 and not that of others, which ought to make you believe." 
 Does not the following passage say indirectly the same thing? 
 " Ordinary people have the power of not thinking of what 
 they do not wish to think of. Do not think of the passages 
 of the Messiah, said the Jew to his son. Thus our people 
 often do. Thus false religions keep their ground, and even 
 the true religion keeps its in the esteem of many people. 
 But there are some who have not the power of thus abstain- 
 ing from thought, and who think so much the more that 
 they are forbidden to do so. These rid themselves of false 
 religions, and even of the true, if they do not find the reason- 
 ings in support of them to be sound." 
 
 From this point, individuality no longer appears to us as 
 a simple gift, but as a virtue, and cannot be distinguished 
 from love of the truth. If you seek in the life of Pascal for 
 a passion, this is it. He had a passion for truth, or, to speak 
 more exactly, a passion, an imperious necessity for the true. 
 Under the name "love of truth" is often designated only 
 the eager desire of knowledge ; or a species of high curiosity. 
 The love of the true is quite another thing ; it may be found 
 
PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 93 
 
 in minds not particularly greedy of knowledge, and contented 
 enough to be ignorant, but whom the false repels and the 
 true ravishes. Pascal is at the head of these noble spirits. 
 Without doubt he loved concrete truth, or truths of every 
 kind ; but the eagerness of thought might have been 
 weakened in him, never the love and the necessity of the 
 true. It is by this, not by a certain indolence of mind or a 
 certain carelessness of heart, that the courage of his thought 
 is explained ; the attentiveness with which, on all subject?, 
 he lends his ear to the lightest whispers of his reason ; the 
 cold tranquillity with which he commits to paper things which 
 any one else would scarcely have confided to himself; that im- 
 partiality of which his editors, friends of truth though they 
 were themselves, did not consider themselves bound to pre- 
 serve all the traces ; and lastly, those contradictions which 
 they have not wholly effaced, and whose existence can 
 only be explained by the admirable sincerity of the writer. 
 He would have made them disappear in publishing his book. 
 I believe it ; but it would not have been before having re- 
 solved them. No one can be false w r ith his reader after 
 having been so true with himself; no one is a liar by halves. 
 Pascal would not indeed have printed, but still he has 
 written these remarkable words : "If there be ever a time 
 when we ought to make profession of two contraries, it is 
 when we are reproached for omitting one. Hence the 
 Jesuits and the Jansenists are to blame for concealing 
 them ; but the Jansenists more, for the Jesuits have better 
 made profession of the two." 
 
 What is admired as profundity in the book of Pascal, and 
 what is in fact profundity, appears to us due in great part 
 to this courage of thought, or this passionate love of the 
 
94 PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 
 
 true. It has been remarked that the thought of a child is 
 sometimes profound, because simplicity and profundity must 
 meet. Shall we venture to say that, very often, Pascal is 
 profound because he is simple ; or because, like a child (but 
 more meritoriously, since the child's courage is only that of 
 imprudence), he looks objects and his own thoughts in the 
 face, and unhesitatingly follows it wheresoever it lead him. 
 I know very well that it would not lead a less vigorous 
 genius so far ; but how many things of surprising novelty, 
 and of incomparable value, Pascal would not have said, 
 would not have thought, if his love of truth had been less 
 ardent, less imperious! 
 
 This passionate love of the true made him hold in 
 contempt everything which, in actual life, overlays with 
 accidental attributes what is the distinguishing attribute of 
 man, — I mean, his quality of manhood. It is this quality 
 that pleases him, and that he seeks before all others ; and he 
 is almost enraged when the accident robs him of the sub- 
 stance, — when the man, or the honest man, with whom he 
 had to do, disappears under profession, art, or rank. u Man 
 (he says) is full of wants ; he loves only those who can 
 supply them all. I must then have an honest man, who 
 can accommodate himself to all my w T ants in general." . . . 
 " One should not be able to say of a man that he is either 
 a mathematician, or a preacher, or eloquent, but that he is 
 an honest man. This universal quality alone pleases me. 
 Ne quid nimis, lest _a_quality should gain the ascendancy 
 and give him its name." And truly he is right. Every 
 man, in order to be anything, too easily resolves to be only 
 that thing. We are all so many living abstractions ; and 
 in order better to remember that we are artists or men of 
 
PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 95 
 
 letters, men of business or men of state, we forget to be 
 simply men, — the universal quality which alone gives value 
 to our particular qualities. Thus Pascal made the truth of 
 human life consist in uniting all, excluding nothing, being 
 in some sort universal. This view may, I suppose, give us 
 the key of a thought which we meet, not without astonish- 
 ment, in Pascal, and of which, in a certain point of view, 
 we may dispute the accuracy. " Since no one can be 
 universal, and know all that can be known about everything, 
 we should know a little about everything. For it is much 
 better to know something about everything, than everything 
 about one thing. This universality is most desirable."* 
 
 This passion for the true, or this bravery of mind, explains 
 Pascal's hatred for everything in language, or in the imita- 
 tion of objects, that is hyperbolical, inflated, or purely con- 
 ventional. His bad humour against this vicious style 
 betrays itself in many places. We cannot but perceive it 
 in these words, thrown out with a negligence that increases 
 their force : " To mask nature, and to disguise her. Away 
 with kings, the pope, bishops ; we must have august mon- 
 arch, etc. ; not Paris, but the capital of the kingdom." 
 Faithful to his maxim, that he should speak of all things 
 as an honest man and as to honest men (we should now 
 say humanly, and as to men), he discards the trumpery 
 which invests objects with a false appearance of great- 
 ness, and believes that thus he renders good service to 
 study ; for, says he, " One of the reasons which most 
 withdraw those who enter upon such studies from the true 
 path which they ought to follow, is the imagination which 
 they take up beforehand that good things are inaccessible, 
 * See Appendix, Note N. 
 
96 PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 
 
 calling them grand, lofty, elevated, sublime. I would call 
 them low, common, familiar. I hate these swelling words. 
 It is not in extraordinary and out-of-the-way things that 
 excellence of whatever kind is found.* People raise them- 
 selves up in order to reach it, and so go the farther from 
 it. More frequently they should low T er themselves. The 
 best books are those which the readers think that thev 
 could have made themselves. Nature, which alone is good, 
 is altogether familiar and common." 
 
 Would you have — I do not] say all the rhetoric of Pascal — 
 but the key, or the sum of that rhetoric ? In a few words, 
 here it is : "When a natural discourse paints a passion or an 
 effect, we find in ourselves the truth of w T hat we hear, though 
 we did not know that it was in us, so that we are led to 
 love him who makes us feel it. For he has made it ap- 
 pear not to be his, but our own." Behold in what, accord- 
 ing to Pascal, consists that eloquence of which he has said, 
 with off-hand familiarity, " that it laughs at eloquence." It 
 consists in giving us the consciousness of our own feelings 
 and our own thoughts. Such is the effect of a natural dis- 
 course, — a sort of mirror in which we have only to look at 
 ourselves. Away, then, with all artifices ! The only point 
 is to be true ; and depth, pathos, sublimity, are but different 
 degrees and different forms of the true. 
 
 Let any one read the thoughts of Pascal on eloquence 
 and on style : he will see that the rhetoric of this great man 
 was almost a moral thing. The love of the true is the 
 foundation and the spirit of it. There is not a precept in 
 these thoughts which does not breathe disdain of conven- 
 tional beauties and the artifices of language, I would say 
 * See Appendix, Note O. ^ 
 
PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 97 
 
 even the most innocent. Who has not remarked this ex- 
 pression, which we should look for in vain in all the rhe- 
 toricians ? u When we find words repeated in a discourse, 
 and on trying to correct them we find them so suitable that 
 we should spoil the discourse by altering them, we should 
 leave them as they are. It is a mark and a part for envy, 
 which is blind, and does not know that this repetition is no 
 fault in such a place ; for there is no general rule." Per- 
 haps you may have noticed that Pascal exemplifies the rule 
 in stating it (by the repetition of the word find). 
 
 When it has been intended to praise the style of Pascal, 
 there has been found but one eulogy; when it has been 
 intended to characterise it, there has been found but one 
 word. But this eulogy, this word, so much the more signi- 
 ficant because it is accompanied by no other, distinguishes 
 that of Pascal amongst all styles. It is a true style. All 
 statements over and above this are but variations of this 
 simple word ; but M. Faugere has without doubt fallen upon 
 one of the happiest of these variations when he has spoken 
 of this style as " simple, — so identified with the soul of the J 
 writer, that it is but the thought itself, adorned with its]! 
 chaste nudity like an antique statue." * But it is not yet 
 time to speak of Pascal's style ; we wish, at present, only 
 to see in it the unquestionable impress of one of the distinc- 
 tive qualities of his character. 
 
 A trait which is closely connected with that which I have 
 just pointed out is the place, let us rather say the rank, which 
 
 1 It appears to me that Pascal has told us the secret of his eloquence 
 in the following passage : — " Things are often written which can only be 
 proved by obliging every one to reflect upon himself, and to find the truth 
 of what is spoken. The force of the proofs of what I say consists in this." 
 
 I 
 
98 PASCAL, NOT THE WHITER, BUT THE MAN. 
 
 thought occupies in the existence of Pascal. Others may 
 have thought as much as he. But I doubt whether, in the 
 case of any one, thought has been mingled in so strong a 
 proportion with the other elements of which the whole of 
 human life is composed. Assuredly we shall not say of him 
 what has been said, justly or unjustly, of the greatest cha- 
 racter of the nineteenth century, 
 
 " From hate and love exempt, he lived to think." 
 A great intensity of intellectual life is not incompatible with 
 depth of the affections. So at least judged Pascal ; for if he 
 has said that " thought makes the greatness of man, "he has 
 said also that " to think well is the beginning of morality." 
 Even before his conversion, Pascal was not all thought, and 
 still less after it ; for it is then that he solemnly distinguishes 
 three orders of greatness, among which intellectual greatness 
 holds only the second rank ; and it is then also that he 
 utters this remarkable saying : u We make an idol even of 
 truth ; for truth, apart from love, is not God. It is His 
 image, and an idol which ought not to be loved or wor- 
 shipped." But if Pascal, in this respect, was not all thought, 
 we might almost say that he was in another sense, so little 
 did he live the life of the senses. It appears that he hardly 
 knew, but by suffering, that nature had provided or embar- 
 rassed him with a body. Even in the labour of thought he 
 borrowed but the least possible from the senses, or from those 
 objects with which the senses bring us into communication. 
 It is of things directly, never of the images of things, almost 
 never of things by their images, that his mind lays hold. He 
 agitates the world of phenomena by his thought ; he never 
 permits the world of phenomena to agitate, still less to alter, 
 his thought. 
 
PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 99 
 
 I am not now giving account of a system, but indicating 
 a particular constitution. Still the constitution becomes a 
 system in many parts of Pascal's book. The discourse on 
 the Passions of Love is a curious instance of it. No one 
 now-a-days will be able without surprise to hear him say, 
 " that in proportion as a man has more mind, the passions 
 are greater ; that purity of mind causes purity of passion ; 
 and that love, consisting only in an attachment of the 
 thought, ought certainly to be the same for all the world." 
 After these quotations, on which I shall make no comment, 
 I shall only add that Pascal has led me to conceive, or 
 at least to admit, that the thought has its passions as well 
 as the soul and the body. The thought of Pascal is im- 
 passioned, not in virtue of this or that particular object which 
 pre-occupies it, but as thought. Or, if you will, he attaches 
 to pure thought the same kind and the same degree 
 of interest that the generality of men attach to quite other 
 objects. His thought is not only a distinct perception, but 
 a lively feeling, of the truth. It suffers and enjoys, it loves 
 and hates, as the heart might do. It loves the truth, and it 
 loves also itself. It has, on its own account, vehement 
 desires and immense ambitions ; and what Pascal has some- 
 where said of the human mind, he might have said still more 
 justly of his own : " There are no limits in things ; the laws 
 would put limits to them, but the mind cannot suffer it." 
 
 The limits or barriers which the thought of Pascal has re- 
 cognised are those of a lofty reason, of which he has, with- 
 out meaning it, described to us the two excellent character- 
 istics. Read his Discourse on the Passions of Love, and his 
 Treatise on the Geometric Mind; and you w T ill learn that, 
 there are two kinds of mind, the geometric mind, and the 
 
100 PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 
 
 subtle mind ; that is to say, in more modern language, 
 analysis on the one hand, and on the other that rapid and 
 sure synthesis, which is probably nothing else than exquisite 
 good sense, " The former (says Pascal) has its views slow, 
 hard, and inflexible ; but the latter has a suppleness of 
 thought which it applies at once to the several amiable 
 qualities of what it loves." And the author adds : " When 
 a man has both these minds together, what pleasure love 
 gives him!" A little farther on these two sorts of mind 
 are still better distinguished in the following words : — 
 
 u The geometricians being accustomed to the simple 
 and large principles of geometry, and only to reason after 
 having seen and handled their principles, they lose them- 
 selves in matters of subtlety, where the principles cannot be 
 thus handled. They are with difficulty seen ; they are felt 
 rather than seen. The thing must be seen all at once with 
 a single look, and not by progressive reasoning, at least to a 
 certain degree. And thus it is rare that geometricians are 
 subtle, or that subtle persons are geometricians. . . . 
 But false minds are never either the one or the other." 
 
 "The judgment is that to which sentiment belongs, as 
 the sciences belong to the mind. Subtlety is the part of 
 the judgment, geometry is that of the mind." 
 
 Athwart the light clouds of an obsolete nomenclature, I 
 have no doubt that you have caught the meaning of Pascal ; 
 and I shall be understood when I say, that what in my eyes 
 completes the characterisation of this eminent mind, is the 
 union, in the most just proportions, of the geometric and 
 the subtle mind. They may be united without difficulty 
 in an ordinary intellect ; but what is rare is, that the one of 
 them, carried to the highest degree, does not injure the 
 
PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 101 
 
 other, and permits it even to raise itself to an equal height. 
 A mind eminently geometric, and as subtle as it is geo- 
 metric, is a spectacle before which it is worth while to bow. 
 Pascal exhibits to us this fine phenomenon in his own person. 
 You will not, of course, ask me to furnish you with the 
 proof of this. You will seek it yourselves in the book of 
 the Thoughts ; and I am much mistaken if this happy and 
 rare temperament do not seem to you as remarkable as it 
 does to me. 
 
 Among the elements from the combination of which the 
 intellectual character of Pascal results, ought we to reckon 
 poetry ? Though Pascal had blasphemed against it, as has 
 been pretended, but as I do not believe, it would not follow 
 from that, that he might not have been a poet. He might 
 have been one, like some others, in spite of himself. In fact, 
 there is poetry in the book of Thoughts ; and perhaps it is 
 not going far beyond the limits of the truth to say that some 
 passages in the book of Thoughts are stanzas of a Christian 
 Byron. But, in general, it is Pascal himself that is the 
 poetry of his book. Whatever there is of vehemence in his 
 thought, of sovereignty in his contempts, of tragedy, shall 
 we venture to say, in the position which he occupies before 
 us as an individual and as a man, that is the poetry of 
 Pascal. It is there, rather than in his thought, where the 
 heaping up of truth prevents the production of some of the 
 effects of poetry. Compare Bossuet and Pascal on the same 
 subjects. You will then know what the sublimest poetry 
 can do, and what extreme truthfulness. But, in short, 
 Bossuet is a poet, and Pascal is not. Is it possible, without 
 being one, or not wishing to be one, to comprehend the whole 
 of human life, or, so to speak, to be a complete man ? Is it 
 
102 PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 
 
 not essential that the honest man (we use here the language 
 of Pascal himself) should be a poet to a certain point, and 
 in some manner ? Poetry lives by associations of ideas, by 
 means of which it greatly modifies life ; but Pascal associ- 
 ated ideas according to stricter laws, and did not willingly 
 lend himself to those which imagination has instituted in her 
 kingdom. Still there are always some points through which 
 passion holds communion with the imagination. Passion 
 cannot always abstain from figures ; and thus from time to 
 time, drawing Pascal into the land of figures, it makes him 
 poetical. 
 
 Must w r e still add scepticism to the primitive elements 
 which make up the intellectual character of the Thoughts ? 
 To put such a question is, at the same time, to define scep- 
 ticism. It is to designate by this term something which is to 
 the mind what irresolution is to the character, a sort of in- 
 capacity of forming a conclusion, a taste for indefinite tem- 
 porising, which considers contradictory arguments without 
 striking the balance between them — in one word, a weakness 
 or indolence of intellect. All this was never applicable to 
 Pascal at any period of his life. Pascal was not one of those 
 who are born sceptics, if it be true that any are born such. 
 He was not a sceptic, but he doubted. It may be asked 
 whether the constant reading of Montaigne and Charron 
 did not lead him into this melancholy path. Perhaps he 
 submitted to their influence ; perhaps, also, he met rather 
 than followed them. His scepticism, if it must be so called, 
 belongs to himself; and this scepticism is not with him a 
 matter of humour, but of reflection. It was with a free 
 judgment, the result of reasoning, that he did not believe in 
 the morality of the mind — (recall this expression, which we 
 
PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 103 
 
 have already remarked) — but only in the morality of the 
 judgment, that is to say, after all, of the heart. And by the 
 term morality here we must understand the whole moral 
 world, the whole moral order, all that is not within the pro- 
 vince of calculation, and whose principles cannot be dis- 
 covered by the way of observation. I am inclined to think 
 that he was sceptical in this respect, that is to say, that, in 
 a certain sense, he never believed in philosophy. This sally, 
 which occurs at the end of a singular enough passage on 
 Descartes, expresses his conviction, and, we believe, his de- 
 liberate conviction : — " And though all this were true, we do 
 not consider that philosophy is worth an hour's labour." 
 He was persuaded that metaphysical truths escape our reason 
 (understand, discursive reason), and that it belongs to the 
 heart, if not immediately to reveal them to us, at least to 
 place us at the entrance of the road that leads towards these 
 truths. He believed this so much the more that he found 
 in his own heart a very distinct and lively answer to ques- 
 tions of this class ; and doubtless he would willingly have 
 applied to this new road what he has somewhere said of 
 rivers : u Rivers are travelling roads, which carry us where 
 we w T ish to go." I need not add, gentlemen, that he re- 
 garded as being within the province of the reason all that is 
 historical in the apologetics of Christianity. What he denied 
 always, at least I believe so, is the metaphysical proof of 
 metaphysical truths. If, in his indignation against the 
 rashnesses and the arrogance of human reason, he went be- 
 yond his own system, we need not be too much astonished 
 at this proceeding on the part of an ardent genius ; and 
 when we hear him exclaim, in his conversation with M. de 
 Saci, " I confess to you, sir, that I cannot see without joy 
 
104 PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 
 
 in this author (Montaigne) haughty reason foiled with its 
 own weapons, and I should love with my whole heart the 
 minister of so great a vengeance;" — when Pascal, I say, 
 speaks thus, we feel that passion is mixed with his convic- 
 tion, and we foresee some excess. But the time for our in- 
 quiring more exactly into this matter is not yet come. 
 
 We must not be afraid to confess that erudition, and still 
 more a regard for erudition, was wanting in Pascal ; and 
 this defect is apparent in his writings. If everything could 
 be reasoned out, it would matter little, for Pascal would have 
 reasoned out everything ; but history is not matter of reason- 
 ing, and history would have rectified or modified more than 
 one of his judgments. If this strong thinker had been 
 learned, what place would be high enough for him among 
 the geniuses that have enlightened humanity ? If, in spite 
 of this, there is no place higher than his own, it must yet be 
 allowed that Pascal, more than any one else, had need to 
 read. Such a man would have run little risk by reading 
 more than he did. And of all the reproaches that have been 
 cast upon him — I speak of reproaches with some foundation — 
 he would perhaps never have incurred any one, if his erudi- 
 tion had equalled his genius. It appears that Pascal had 
 not read much except Montaigne. He was what one of the 
 ancients energetically calls a man of one booh Perhaps it 
 would have been better that he had read nothing at all ; for, 
 to read only one book is very often, however strong a man 
 be, to put himself at the mercy of a book. 
 
 Shall we now attempt to penetrate further into the soul 
 of Pascal ? Shall we pass from the domain of the intellect, 
 properly so called, into the domain of the affections? It 
 will not be without some apprehension. This second / is 
 
PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 105 
 
 still more difficult to fathom than the other. I have not been 
 able to discover in Pascal any trace of vanity, or even of self- 
 love, in the ordinary sense of the word ; but a certain haugh- 
 tiness, in some sort impersonal, the encounter with which 
 was probably not more agreeable to those who were subjected 
 to it, than if personality had played a more important part in 
 it. It was not from the height of his individual importance, 
 but, so to speak, from the height of his convictions and of 
 truth, that Pascal overwhelmed men's minds; but he did over- 
 whelm them. He was rather formed, it appears to me, to rule 
 and to lead, than to please. I am glad to recollect, on this 
 occasion, a remarkable passage from his treatise on the Art of 
 Persuasion. " The manner (or the art) of being agreeable 
 is incomparably more difficult, more subtile, more useful, and 
 more admirable (than the art of demonstrating). If I do not 
 treat of it, it is because I am not capable of doing so ; and I 
 feel myself so incompetent, that I believe the thing to be ab- 
 solutely impossible. Not but that I believe that there are 
 as certain rules to please as to prove, and that one who 
 should perfectly know and practise them, would as surely 
 succeed in making himself beloved by kings, and all sorts of 
 persons, as in demonstrating the elements of geometry ; but 
 I suppose — and it is perhaps my weakness that makes me 
 think so — that it is impossible to attain this power." I do 
 not tell you, gentlemen, to believe Pascal here on his word ; 
 but I cannot help thinking that in this passage he has known 
 and judged himself accurately. No doubt he knew how to 
 inspire a lively and profound sympathy for his ideas ; but, 
 taking him as he is, and in the whole of the sphere in which 
 his strength is put forth, he certainly exercised more of 
 power than of attraction. 
 
106 PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 
 
 Some readers have been indignant at this. They had 
 perhaps reasons for their indignation which they did not 
 acknowledge. Voltaire gave no account, but we give ac- 
 count for him, of the feeling which made him write thus : 
 " Pascal, a premature genius, wished to make use of the 
 superiority of this genius as kings make use of their power : 
 he thought to subject all, and to humble all, by force. What 
 has most revolted certain readers in the Thoughts, is the 
 despotic and contemptuous air with which he begins. He 
 should not have begun without having reason on his side." 
 In fact, no one then knew how or where Pascal had begun ; 
 we do not know it with perfect certainty even now. But 
 he goes on nearly as he begins, and the readers of whom 
 Voltaire speaks would find almost everywhere what w T ould 
 revolt them. But call it authority, ascendant, or the despotic 
 air with which Voltaire is shocked, you come to the con- 
 clusion, with me, that while others gain us insensibly, Pas- 
 cal subdues us. 
 
 As for what are commonly called passions, it is difficult to 
 discover a trace of them in the career or in the writings of 
 Pascal. And yet he was impassioned ; and it is on this that 
 the incomparable power of his style mainly depends. But 
 his passions, as I have said already, are intellectual passions, 
 or passions of the mind. I believe that the particular affec- 
 tions had little to do in his life. I do not take advantage, 
 so to speak, of what he may have said or thought after his 
 conversion. If I brought in proof what he said of marriage, 
 which he calls " the most dangerous and the lowest condi- 
 tion of Christianity ;" — if I quoted these words, " We did not 
 lose my father at the moment of his death ; we lost him, so 
 to speak, when he entered into the Church by baptism," — 
 
PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 107 
 
 you would bring against me, and with reason, the dates, and 
 the influence of a system or of a doctrine, which ought not 
 to be confounded with the natural complexion of this ex- 
 traordinary soul. But I take him before his conversion, and 
 apart from all system. And then I find a soul capable cer- 
 tainly of particular attachments, but drawn higher by its 
 nature, and rather formed for general affections. We find, 
 for all must be told, some traces of violence at some periods 
 of Pascal's life ; and it would appear also, that in family 
 affairs he showed himself too exclusively the geometrician, 
 and took for justice the summum jus which is far apart from 
 it. He did not need to be tender in order to control him- 
 self; but more tenderness of heart would certainly have 
 rendered him more just. Our justice is not often aught 
 else ; and, after all, it is better that the deficit be supplied by 
 tenderness than by fear. Be this as it may, the require- 
 ments of Pascal in the matter of particular attachments, do 
 not seem to have been very lively. .His friendships took 
 their birth in the domain of the loftiest sympathies. They 
 were philosophical or religious in their origin, as in their 
 character. If he was sufficiently sociable, he was above all 
 human ; and it is in this general affection that all the tender- 
 ness of his soul is displayed. A word thrown out, as by 
 chance, among'his thoughts on eloquence and style, strikes 
 me in this connection : " It is proper to please those who have 
 human and tender feelings." Seek for this rule in the books 
 on rhetoric and poetry which you may know ; no one has 
 been aware of it ; and more than one maxim taught by lite- 
 rary men implies precisely the opposite of Pascal's rule. 
 Perhaps you will not attach less value to this other thought, 
 as a revelation of Pascal's character : " Is it necessary to 
 
108 PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 
 
 kill in order that there may be none wicked ? This is to 
 make two instead of one." I might further quote some fine 
 sayings on tolerance ; but here, unless I am much mistaken, 
 it is the Christian that speaks, and at present we have not 
 to do with the Christian. 
 
 But I will venture to repeat it. Pascal was formed to 
 love on a large scale ; and the general affections alone were 
 capable of filling his heart. Perhaps his profoundly intel- 
 lectual nature would have it so. There is, in fact, some- 
 thing intellectual in general affections, which is not in par- 
 ticular attachments. We are not afraid of being accused of 
 slighting grace, and attributing too much to nature, if we 
 add that the character of Pascal demanded what his conver- 
 sion gave him, — we mean a God to love. Whatever was in 
 him of the impassioned, which, till then, had scarcely aught 
 but ideas to satisfy it, found the means of satisfaction in 
 God ; for he there found at once a being and truth. The 
 piety of Pascal has all the character of a passion. It was 
 not one only, or even several of his internal necessities that 
 were ministered to by this almost unexpected meeting with 
 a God ; it was all the necessities at once that man can admit, 
 and that are honourable to him. Necessities or faculties, it 
 matters not ; for faculties are necessities. It is thus, with all 
 Ills faculties, his mighty faculties, as with immense arms, 
 that Pascal embraces the God that is presented to him. He 
 embraces Him with the intellect, as with the heart, as with 
 love of himself, without any distinction ; because all this, in 
 the joy of the new birth, is more intimately united than light 
 and heat can be in a ray of the sun. Yet it is of all these 
 joys at once that the sublime rapture is composed, which 
 breaks out in the singular fragment of which so much has 
 
PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 109 
 
 been said, the mystic amulet which an infidel philosopher 1 
 had to make known to the Christian world. 
 
 "There are (says the excellent writer who, by a new 
 edition of the Thoughts, has linked his name inseparably 
 with the illustrious name of Pascal) — there are decisive hours 
 in which a man feels the germ of a new vocation burst out 
 in him ; a world all at once opens to his mind, and seized 
 with a passion, imperious as the very voice of God, he takes 
 upon his conscience the engagement to pursue the work 
 which is thenceforth to be the end of his life. Thus St 
 Augustine is led by the voice from on high, which subdues 
 him and leads him captive. Thus Pascal, weary of the 
 dissipations of the world, resolves to quit them, and in a 
 vigil of anguish and of ecstasy, he finds himself suddenly 
 and for ever bound to religion. 
 
 u The apostle of reason, who exalted good sense to the 
 dignity of a philosophic method, Descartes, had not he also 
 his hour of lyric enthusiasm ? " 
 
 Heaven itself, we doubt not, had marked this supreme 
 moment in the career of Pascal, and God, in secret, assisted 
 at this vigil of arms. But I wish here to remark only one 
 thing. Maii^ a relative and dependent creature, is not 
 complete but by passion. But with some, passion is asleep 
 till it be wakened by meeting with its object ; with others, 
 passion, long awake, active, unquiet, incapable of destruction, 
 impatiently waits, and ardently seeks, for its object. Pascal 
 is of the latter number. It may be said that with him 
 passion, kept above vulgar objects by the intellectual cha- 
 racter which was peculiar to him, found before it, at this 
 height, only the void or nonentity. It darted across these 
 
 1 Condorcct. 
 
110 PASCAL, NOT THE WRITER, BUT THE MAN. 
 
 desolate spaces, inania regna, and stopped, or rather fixed 
 itself, in religion. Religion was thenceforth the passion of 
 Pascal. The religion of Pascal was impassioned ; and there- 
 fore communicative and captivating. His logic, admirable 
 as it was, became only more strict and more pointed ; but it 
 tempered itself also in passion ; and these two attributes, 
 each carried to the utmost conceivable extent, make up the 
 inimitable character of the book of Thoughts. 
 
 One expression might have taken the place of this long 
 and imperfect analysis. Read, I might have said to you, 
 the writings in which M. Sainte-Beuve and Dr Reuchlin 
 have, with so much erudition, sincerity, and subtlety, inter- 
 rogated the documents relative to our Pascal. What secrets 
 has not the author of Port-Royal surprised, in his prolonged 
 and familiar intercourse with an epoch which has refused 
 nothing to a curiosity so sagacious ! But if I come too late 
 for this subject, I come too late for all subjects ; and I 
 should only have to cite my authorities before you, or make 
 them occupy my chair in my stead. I have no right to do 
 so ; and if I had, I should not use it. Without saying aught 
 of the necessity of oral instruction, a course of lectures 
 collects what is scattered, abridges, resumes, and concludes ; 
 and it is always new if it express impressions truly per- 
 sonal ; for in every one of the souls which receive it, the 
 truth becomes new. Where there is necessity there cannot 
 be audacity ; and the part of an echo, even a living and 
 sympathising echo, cannot be deemed presumptuous. 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. Ill 
 
 IV. 
 
 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 In studying the Thoughts of Pascal, we must not take up 
 the idea of a formal apology. In its actual state, the volume 
 is a long and sublime aside, — a drama in which but one actor 
 is on the stage, but which has no want of situations. No 
 book is more subjective, and at the same time less egotistic. 
 It is a book of confessions ; — not the confessions of an 
 Augustine ; but the successive confessions of a penitent in 
 thought, who makes known his agitations even from the 
 bosom of his agitations, for the echo of the internal tumult is 
 prolonged in his recollection, and even in his soul. 
 
 We have already said, that this book could not have ap- 
 peared in the state in which we now have it. The style of 
 it would have been modified, the plan also, even the thought 
 is not settled. Pascal appears not to have described the 
 whole of his orbit. It is no rare thing to find oscillations, 
 contradictions in the Thoughts. The book bears a proble- 
 matic character. It is a true Egyptian monument, on whicli 
 many of the hieroglyphics are yet to be deciphered, and in 
 which letters have sometimes been taken for words. In en- 
 deavouring to give an account of it, we shall not be able to 
 follow the order of the subjects except in a general way, 
 and without laying hold of particulars. 
 
 The fundamental idea of this apology is to set out from man 
 in order to come to God. We might set out from God 
 
112 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 to come to man ; taking the Christian religion as a fact, 
 and explaining it, as many others have undertaken to do. 
 But Pascal's nature, his experiences, the history of his soul, 
 required of him another method. He was, as it were, in- 
 stinctively impelled to adopt that which he has chosen : he 
 said to himself that religion is either the complement or the 
 reparation of human nature. The object of religion, there- 
 fore, is man : it is a relief to his misery. Let us inquire, with 
 Pascal, if this misery is real, if this relief is necessary. Sup- 
 posing his readers to be men who systematically do not wish 
 for information about religion, he naturally speaks of God 
 in name of humanity. 
 
 From this plan there must result something of the 
 dramatic. The design is to compel an indifferent public 
 to take interest in the subject. He throws them into an 
 agony, in order to reveal to them the remedy. 
 
 Pascal addresses himself to atheists. In the following 
 century he would not have done so. He would not have 
 thought it necessary. There were then infidels, deists, but 
 not atheists. In Pascal's time, the term was appropriate. 
 There were, on one side, men attached to the religion of their 
 country, and on the other, atheists in the strict sense. Do 
 you figure to yourselves the character of minds at the period 
 when Pascal appeared ? The disposition of men's minds is 
 distinctly shown in the literature of the time. The affec- 
 tation in manners, the inflated nobility of Balzac, the heroes 
 of Corneille, still more his heroines, Emilie, Cleopatra, 
 Viriate, indicate something excessive, hyperbolical, un- 
 natural, if not in life, at least in ideas and characters. 
 Those moral and intellectual shadings, which were after- 
 wards exhibited, did not yet exist; there were only de- 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 113 
 
 cided colours. This was reproduced in all departments. 
 In religion, you shall see men zealous, either from prejudice 
 or from conviction ; and alongside of them scoffers, libertines 
 (as they were called in the eighteenth century), practical 
 rather than speculative atheists. There is no mean. It 
 was with these men that Pascal had to deal. His book is 
 directed against them, but not in a spirit of hatred or 
 bitterness. 
 
 u To commence (says he) with a lamentation for unbe- 
 lievers. They are sufficiently miserable by their condition. 
 It would not be proper to offend them, unless for the pur- 
 pose of benefiting them ; but this hurts them." (II. 387.) 
 
 " To lament for atheists who are inquiring ; for are they 
 not sufficiently unhappy ? To anathematise those who boast 
 of their atheism." (II. 19.) 
 
 From the outset, he attacks them, but in a grave manner. 
 In an admirable page, he paints, with unparalleled vivacity, 
 the indifferent man. 
 
 " What matter for boasting is there in finding oneself in 
 impenetrable darkness ; and how can it be that such reason- 
 ing as this should go on in the mind of a reasonable man ? 
 
 " I know not who has §ent me into the world, nor what 
 the world is, nor what I myself am. I am in a terrible 
 ignorance of all things. I know not what my body is, or 
 my senses, or my soul, or that part of me which thinks what 
 I say, which reflects on everything and on itself, and which 
 knows itself no more than the rest. I see those frightful 
 spaces of the universe which enclose me, and I find myself 
 attached to a corner of this vast extent, without knowing 
 why I am placed here rather than elsewhere, or why the 
 little time which is given me tojive is allotted to me at this 
 
 K 
 
114 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 point rather than any other of the eternity which has gone 
 before, or of that which is to follow. 
 
 Ci I see only infinities on all sides, which encompass me as 
 an atom, and as a shadow which endures but an instant and 
 never returns. 
 
 "All that I know is that I must soon die; but what I know 
 least of all is this death which I cannot escape. 
 
 "As I know not whence I come, so neither know I whither 
 I go. I only know that on leaving this world, I fall for 
 ever either into nothingness, or into the hands of an angry 
 God, without knowing whether of these two conditions is to 
 be my lot for eternity. Behold my state, full of misery, of 
 weakness, of darkness ! And from all this I conclude that 
 I am to pass all the days of my life without caring to inquire 
 what is to befall me. Perhaps I might find some enlighten- 
 ment in my doubts, but I will not take the trouble, or lift 
 my foot to seek it. And then, treating with contempt those 
 who shall burden themselves with this care, I shall go, 
 without foresight and without fear, to try so great an issue, 
 and allow myself to be led softly to death, in uncertainty 
 of the eternity of my future condition." (II. 9, 10.) 
 
 The principle of this conduct appears to him so contrary 
 to reason, that he thinks there is affectation in it. 
 
 u There must be a strange overturn in the nature of man 
 ere he can boast of being in this state, in which it seems 
 incredible that a single person should be. Still, experience 
 shows it me in so great a number, that it would be surprising, 
 if we did not know that most of those who take part in it 
 counterfeit, and are not such in reality. They are people 
 who have heard that the fine manners of the world consist 
 in thus acting the extravagant. It is what they call shaking 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 115 
 
 off the yoke, and they try to imitate it. But it would not 
 be difficult to make them understand how much they are 
 at fault in seeking for esteem by such means. This is not 
 the way to acquire it, even among people of the world, who 
 judge soundly of things, and who know that the only way 
 to succeed is to appear honest, faithful, judicious, and 
 capable of serving one's friend ; since men naturally love 
 only what may be useful to them. But what advantage is 
 it for us to be told, by a man who says that he has shaken 
 off the yoke, that he does not believe that there is a God 
 who watches over his actions, that he considers himself as 
 the sole master of his conduct, and that he has only to 
 render account to himself? Does he expect thereby to in- 
 duce us to put confidence in him, and to expect from him 
 consolations, counsels, and aid in all the necessities of life ? 
 Do they imagine that they give us joy when they tell us 
 that they hold that our soul is but a little wind and smoke, 
 and when they tell us this with a voice of bravery and 
 satisfaction ? Is it a thing to be told with gaiety ? Is it 
 not, on the contrary, a thing to be told sadly, as indeed the 
 saddest thing in the world?" (II. 11, 12.) 
 
 He then concludes with these words : — 
 
 u There are only two sorts of persons who can be called 
 reasonable : either those who serve God with all their heart 
 because they know Him, or those who seek Him with all 
 their heart because they know Him not." (II. 13.) 
 
 " Those who seek Him mourning," as he says elsewhere. 
 And this is what he does himself; he seeks mourning with 
 them and for them. His book is a long; mourning. Let us 
 make, with him, an inspection of intellectual and moral man 
 
 The book is divided into two parts, of which the first 
 
116 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 treats of the misery of man without God, or until he has 
 found God ; the second, of the happiness of man with God. 
 
 A simple plan ; but immensely great. Pascal seems to 
 experience a rude pleasure in looking at the former part. 
 
 The misery of man is composed of three miseries, — of 
 three deep and unsatisfied wants : the want of truth, the 
 want of happiness, the want of righteousness, are always 
 unsatisfied. Or, rather, it is a threefold truth of which he 
 is deprived. Three truths are lost since the fall, or truth 
 under three modes ; for truth is not only the correspondence 
 of an idea with a fact, but also the correspondence of a fact 
 with an idea. u Is there not (says Pascal himself) a sub- 
 stantial truth, seeing so many true things, which are not the 
 truth itself?" (II. 164.) Happiness, under this aspect, 
 is also truth. 
 
 Relatively to truth in itself, or rather to the faculty of 
 knowing, Pascal declares that " man is only a subject full 
 of error, natural and ineffaceable without grace. Nothing 
 shows him the truth. Everything misleads him." Reason 
 shall have its turn ; but Pascal begins by correcting it, and 
 attends to various circumstances which prevent our discover- 
 ing the truth. First, imagination, or images, — then our 
 sensibility, our taste, our desire, all concur to deceive us. 
 Images deceive us, but we are willing to be deceived by 
 them.* The external world is all founded on these decep- 
 tions. 
 
 " Our magistrates (says Pascal) well know this mys- 
 tery. Their scarlet robes, their ermines, with which they 
 deck themselves out like furred cats, the palaces in which 
 they sit in judgment, their fleurs-de-lis — all these august 
 * See Appendix, Note P. 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 117 
 
 paraphernalia were very necessary ; and if physicians had 
 not cloaks and mules, and doctors had not had square caps 
 and large robes with four folds, they would never have duped 
 the world, which cannot resist so authentic a display. . . . 
 If they had real justice, if physicians had the true art of 
 healing, they would have no need of square caps. The 
 majesty of the sciences would be sufficiently venerable of 
 itself. .... We cannot even see an advocate in his 
 gown, and his cap on his head, without an advantageous 
 opinion of his sufficiency ." (II. 50—52.) 
 
 In like manner, as imagination prejudices us, novelty 
 equally surprises us. Sicknesses, interest, accidental dis- 
 tractions, still obscure our understandings. 
 
 a The mind of this sovereign judge of the world is not so 
 independent but that he is liable to be troubled by the first 
 hubbub that is made around him. It does not need the 
 noise of a cannon to interrupt his thoughts ; the click of a 
 weather-cock or a pulley is enough. Do not be astonished 
 if he do not reason well at present, a fly is buzzing in his 
 ears ! This is enough to incapacitate him for good counsel: ' 
 (II. 53, 54.) 
 
 Of all the enemies of truth, no one is more noticeable 
 than self-love. 
 
 "This misfortune (of not understanding the truth) is 
 doubtless greater and more usual in greater fortunes, but the 
 least are not exempt from it, because there is always some 
 interest in attracting the love of men. Thus human life 
 is only a perpetual illusion ; they do nothing but deceive 
 and flatter one another. . . . The union that subsists 
 between men is only founded upon this mutual deception " 
 (II. 60.) 
 
118 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 Such is the chapter entitled, Deceptive Influences, 
 In another chapter (The Disproportion of Man ; — Pascal 
 had at first entitled it Incapacity), he treats of the dispro- 
 portion of man with the universe, of the despair which seizes 
 him in face of the two infinites, the one above and the other 
 below him ; all destroys him, and throws him into the state 
 which Pascal calls incapacity of knoiving. 
 
 " Let him once consider nature seriously and at leisure ; 
 let him also look at himself, and let him judge if he has any 
 proportion with it. . . . Let man then contemplate the 
 whole of nature in its lofty and full majesty ; let him with- 
 draw his view from the base objects which surround him ; 
 let him look upon that brilliant light, set as an eternal lamp 
 to enlighten the universe ; let the earth appear to him as a 
 point, in comparison with the vast orbit described by this 
 heavenly body ; and let him be confounded by the considera- 
 tion that this vast orbit itself is but a minute point with 
 respect to that embraced by that of the stars which revolve 
 in the firmament. But though our sight stops there, let 
 imagination go further. It will w r eary itself with conceiving 
 sooner than nature will be weary of furnishing matter for 
 conception. All this visible world is but an imperceptible 
 line on the ample bosom of nature. No idea approaches it. 
 We do well to elevate our conceptions beyond imaginable 
 spaces. We give birth only to atoms, in comparison with 
 the reality of things. It is an infinite sphere, of which 
 the centre is everywhere, the circumference nowhere. In 
 short, it is the greatest sensible characteristic of the omni- 
 potence of God, that our imagination loses itself in this 
 thought.* 
 
 * See Appendix, Note Q. 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 119 
 
 u Let man, returning to himself, consider what he is, in 
 comparison with what is ; let him regard himself as wander- 
 ing in this remote region of nature ; and from this small 
 prison-house in which he is lodged — I mean the universe — 
 let him learn to estimate the earth, its kingdoms, its towns, 
 and himself, at their proper price. . . . 
 
 " But, to present to him another prodigy equally astonish- 
 ing, let him examine the most delicate things in what he 
 knows. Let a mite show him, in the smallness of its body, 
 parts incomparably smaller, — legs with their joints, veins in 
 those legs, blood in those veins, humours in that blood, drops 
 in those humours, vapours in those drops. Let him, still 
 dividing these last things, exhaust his powers in these con- 
 ceptions, and let the last object to which he can arrive be 
 still that of our discourse. Perhaps he will think that here 
 is the extreme littleness of nature. I wish to show him a 
 new abyss within it. I wish to paint to him not only the 
 visible universe, but the conceivable immensity of nature 
 within the circuit of this fraction of an atom. Let him see 
 there an infinite number of universes, each one of which 
 has its firmament, its planets, its earth, in the same propor- 
 tion as the visible world ; in this earth animals, and lastly 
 mites, in which he will find what he found in the first; and 
 finding still the same thing in the others, without end and 
 without rest, let him lose himself in these marvels, as aston- 
 ishing in their littleness as the others by their extent. . . . 
 "Whoever will consider himself in this way, will be 
 frightened at himself, and regarding himself as sustained 
 in the group which nature has assigned to him between the 
 two abysses of the infinite and nothingness, he will tremble 
 at the sight of these marvels ; and I believe that his curi- 
 
120 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 osity changing into admiration, he will be more disposed to 
 contemplate them in silence than to investigate them with 
 presumption. 
 
 "For, in short, what is man in nature? A nothing 
 with respect to the infinite, a whole with respect to nothing; 
 a mean between nothing and all. Infinitely withdrawn from 
 the comprehension of the extremes, the end of things and 
 their beginning are irrecoverably hidden in an impenetrable 
 secret, equally incapable of seeing the nothing from which 
 he has been derived, and the infinite in which he is engulfed. 
 What we have of being deprives us of the knowledge of the 
 first principles, which are produced from nothing, and the 
 littleness of our being conceals from us the infinite. . . . 
 
 " Behold our true being. It renders us equally incapable 
 of certain knowledge and of absolute ignorance." (II. 
 63-71.) 
 
 Moreover, our knowledge is relative ; we cannot know the 
 whole without knowing the parts, nor the parts without the 
 whole ; whence it follows that we know neither the one nor 
 the other. In like manner, as we are embarrassed between 
 the two infinites, we are embarrassed between the two 
 worlds of mind and of body. We continually mingle and 
 confound them. " We are composed (says Pascal) of two 
 natures, opposite and diverse, soul and body " (II. 73). We 
 occupy the middle place between two worlds, pure matter 
 and pure spirit. " Instead of receiving the ideas of these 
 things in their purity, we taint them with our own qualities, 
 and impress our composite being on all the simple things 
 that we contemplate." (II. 74.)* 
 
 From all this Pascal concludes our incapacity of know- 
 * See Appendix, Note It. 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 121 
 
 ledge ; and he adds the more delicate consideration, that the 
 despair of being able to discover the infinite is not within 
 the reach of every one. 
 
 As to the unsatisfied craving for happiness, we must have 
 a right understanding as to the meaning of the term. There 
 are two sorts of happiness : one disinterested, the other 
 selfish ; one in the soul, the other in outward objects. Pascal 
 makes little account of objective happiness. He is a pessim- 
 ist ; but we are not to seek in his pessimism for a catalogue 
 of our evils. The happiness that he seeks for must spread 
 itself from within outwards ; he lays hold of it in the soul, 
 and attaches himself to it with a love wholly intellectual. 
 In a w T ord, it is, for him, contentment that is in question. 
 In this sense, happiness is a part of order, and its absence in 
 man is, in Pascal's eyes, a new proof of the disorder of his 
 condition. He applies himself first to describe our dis- 
 quietude. In every condition, happy or unhappy, man is 
 unquiet. Pascal thence explains the necessity we have for 
 agitation in order to withdraw us from ourselves. This is 
 the object of the chapter entitled, Diversion. 
 
 "When I have sometimes set myself to consider the 
 different agitations of men, and the perils and the pains to 
 which they expose themselves in the court, in war, whence 
 arise so many complaints, passions, rash and often wicked 
 enterprises, I have often said that all the misery of man arises 
 from one source, which is, that he cannot remain at rest in a 
 room. . . . But when I have thought more closely, and after 
 having found the cause of all our misfortunes, I have wished 
 to discover the reason of them, I have found that there is 
 a very effective one, which consists in the natural misfortune 
 of our weak and mortal condition, which is so miserable that 
 
 L 
 
122 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 nothing can console us when we think closely of it. . . . 
 Hence it comes that men so much love noise and bustle. 
 Hence it comes that imprisonment is so horrible a punish- 
 ment ; hence it comes that the pleasure of solitude is a thing 
 incomprehensible. And, lastly, it is the greatest subject of 
 congratulation in the condition of kings, that men are con- 
 tinually trying to divert them, and to procure for them all 
 sorts of pleasures. 
 
 " They have a secret instinct which leads them to seek 
 for diversion and occupation from without, which springs 
 from the feeling of their continual miseries; and they have 
 another secret instinct, which remains from the greatness of 
 our first nature, which makes them know that happiness is, 
 in fact, only in rest, and not in tumult ; and from these 
 two contrary instincts, there is formed in them a confused 
 project, which is concealed from their view in the depth of 
 their soul, which leads them to make for rest by agitation, 
 and always to represent to themselves that the satisfaction 
 which they have not will come to them, if, on surmounting 
 some difficulties which they encounter, they can thereby 
 open to themselves the gate of repose. Thus the whole of 
 life glides aw r ay. We seek for rest by combating certain 
 obstacles ; and if we surmount them, rest becomes intolerable. 
 For we think either of the miseries which we have, or of 
 those which threaten us. And even if we should see our- 
 selves sufficiently sheltered on all sides, still ennui, with or 
 without reason, would not leave oft' springing from the bottom 
 of the heart, where it has its natural roots, and filling the 
 mind with its poison (II. 31-35). If man were happy, he 
 would be so much the more so as he was the less diverted, 
 as the saints and God." 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 123 
 
 "The only thing that consoles us in our miseries is 
 diversion, and yet it is the greatest of our miseries." (II. 
 40.) 
 
 Pascal then occupies himself with objective happiness, 
 that which comes to us from without, and from circum- 
 stances. Men have not even the idea of the true good, 
 though they have an implacable and inextinguishable 
 craving for it. All that the wisest men have had a glimpse 
 of in this respect is of very little consequence. 
 
 "All men seek to be happy; that is without exception. 
 Whatever different means they employ, they are all aiming 
 at this end. What makes some go to war and others not, 
 is the same desire in both, accompanied by different views. 
 The wish never makes the least step save towards this object. 
 It is the motive of all the actions of all men, down even to 
 those who go to hang themselves. 
 
 u And yet, throughout so great a number of years, no one 
 without the faith has ever attained that point at which all 
 are continually aiming. All bewail themselves, princes and 
 subjects, nobles and tradesmen, old and young, strong and 
 weak, learned and ignorant, healthy and sick, men of all 
 countries and of all times, of all ages and of all conditions. 
 
 a An experience so long, so continual, and so uniform, 
 might well have convinced us of our inability to attain to 
 good by our own efforts ; but example does not teach us. 
 It is never so perfectly alike but there is some slight difference; 
 and hence we expect that our hope shall not be disappointed 
 on the present, as it has been on previous occasions. And 
 thus, the present never satisfying us, experience lures us 
 on, and leads us from misery to misery, even till death, which 
 is an eternal accumulation of it." (II. 121-122.) 
 
124 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 " Others have considered that it is necessary that the 
 universal good which all men desire, shall not consist in 
 any of the particular things which can only be possessed by 
 a single individual, and which being divided afflict their 
 possessor more, by the want of that part which he has 
 not, than they content him by the enjoyment of that which 
 falls to his share. They have understood that the true 
 good must be such that all might possess it at once without 
 diminution and without envy, and that no one should lose 
 it against his will" (II. 123). 
 
 Justice, that is to say, truth in society, is the third re- 
 quirement which man finds within himself, and which does 
 not obtain satisfaction. The word is there, and by its 
 presence attests the existence of the thing ; but man stops 
 at this abstract notion of it, which remains, so to speak, 
 suspended in the air, and never alights. For, if we know 
 what justice is, we know no one who is just. The ideas of 
 the just and the unjust vary with times and places. " A 
 meridian (on this subject) decides upon the truth ; in a few 
 years of possession, the fundamental laws change. Eight 
 has its epochs. The entrance of Saturn into Leo marks to 
 us the origin of this or that crime. Pleasant justice, which 
 a river bounds ! Truth on this side the Pyrenees, error on 
 the other!" (11.126.) 
 
 This extreme diversity puts it out of the author's power 
 to admit a natural knowledge of right. Much is said of 
 natural principles ; but what, he exclaims, " are our natural 
 principles, but the principles to which we are accustomed?" 
 (II. 131). Not without reason man appeals to nature ; and 
 this word, like justice, has no doubt a meaning ; for if it 
 had not, it would not exist : but " the true nature being lost 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 125 
 
 (for man) everything becomes his nature" (II. 131) ; every- 
 thing for him takes the place of nature. u Custom is a second 
 nature which destroys the first. Why is not custom natural? 
 I am afraid that this nature is but itself a first custom, as 
 custom is a second nature" (II. 132). 
 
 From this impossibility of finding evident principles, 
 principles which all the world acknowledges, it follows that 
 " the only universal rules will be the laws of the country 
 in ordinary matters, and plurality in others" (II. 134) ; 
 which means, that in matters which the law cannot provide 
 for, the accidental fact of the majority shall make law, and 
 that the law shall regulate all the rest. 
 
 And what shall be this law, which Bossuet, speaking of 
 the republics of Greece, has magnificently defined to be 
 " reason recognised by the whole people V 9 It will be force. 
 " Without doubt (says Pascal) the equality of blessings," by 
 which he probably means the equality of social advantages, 
 u is just ; but not being able to cause that it be enforced to 
 obey justice, men have made it just to obey force ; not 
 being able to enforce justice, men have justified force, in 
 order that the just and the strong might coincide, and that 
 there might be peace, which is the sovereign blessing" (II. 
 134-135). 
 
 This last passage, little in accordance, perhaps, with the 
 preceding, seems to indicate that the notion of righteousness 
 is less strange to the minds of men than the wish to be 
 righteous is strange to their will. The consciences of men 
 fundamentally agree ; their selfishnesses never agree. This 
 being so, it has become necessary to erect might into right, 
 in order to have a point of departure, a datum ; and this is 
 what men have been compelled at last tacitly to agree upon. 
 
126 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 " How well it is (exclaims Pascal, with an admiration some- 
 what ironical) to distinguish men by the external, rather 
 than by the internal qualities ! Which of us two shall take 
 precedence ? Which shall give place to the other ? The 
 less intelligent ? But I am as intelligent as the other. We 
 must go to fight upon this point. The other has four 
 lacqueys, and I have but one. That is something visible, 
 it is a matter of counting. It is for me then to yield, and I 
 am a fool if I contest the point. Thus we are at peace by 
 this means, which is the greatest of blessings" (I. 184). 
 
 And elsewhere he says : " The most unreasonable things 
 in the world become the most reasonable, because of the 
 disordered condition of men. What can be less reasonable 
 than to choose to govern a state the first son of a queen ? " 
 — (A queen, he says, not a king, in order that the epigram 
 may be complete). (t People do not choose as commander 
 of a ship the one of the passengers who is of the best family. 
 This law would be ridiculous and unjust. But because they 
 are and will always be so, it becomes reasonable and just ; 
 for whom should they chose ? The most virtuous and the 
 most intelligent ? Behold us forthwith at blows. Every one 
 pretends to be the most virtuous and the most intelligent. 
 Let us then attach this quality to something about which 
 there can be no dispute. This man is the eldest son of the 
 king. This is simple ; there is no room for dispute. Eeason 
 cannot do better ; for civil war is the greatest of evils" (I. 
 177). 
 
 We easily perceive what is the meaning of this word 
 reasonable in the thought of Pascal. The question is simply 
 as to expediency, under the name of reason. But what is 
 reasonable only in this way will become so in a far higher 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 127 
 
 sense for any one who will place himself on the point of 
 view of Christianity. This Pascal tells us in the following 
 passage : — 
 
 " Rank : The people honour persons of high birth. The 
 half intelligent despise them, saying, that birth is not a 
 personal, but an accidental advantage. The intelligent 
 honour them, not by the thought of the people, but by 
 after-thought (that is, more reflective, more profound 
 thought). Devout men, who have more zeal than know- 
 ledge, despise them, notwithstanding the consideration which 
 causes them to be honoured by the intelligent, because they 
 judge of them by a new light which piety gives them. But 
 perfect Christians honour them by another and superior 
 light" (I. 218). 
 
 This does not mean that the greatness of the great is 
 just in itself. It remains precisely as it was. What perfect 
 Christians honour in the great is not themselves, but appa- 
 rently the eternal providence of Him who has made them 
 great. 
 
 And after all this, justice or social truth is so much one 
 of our requirements, that injustice, in order to maintain 
 itself, has need to pass for justice. The very people, who 
 take "the antiquity of the laws as a proof of their truth" 
 and who, on that ground, yield them obedience, "are apt to 
 revolt, when they are shown that these laws are worth 
 nothing" (II. 131). It is Pascal who speaks, gentlemen, 
 and it is still he who adds, " and this can be shown respect- 
 ing all laws (that they are worth nothing) by looking at them 
 from a certain side." From what side % Pascal does not say. 
 
 Such are the politics of our author. From these consider- 
 
128 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 ations it is undoubtedly easy to pass to the misery of man ; 
 for this, I think, is one of them. But our misery being thus 
 sufficiently established by all that Pascal has now said, it 
 only remains further to balance it with our greatness. This 
 Pascal does in a chapter of incomparable beauty. Man, in 
 the bosom of his misery, is great, because he does not con- 
 found his misery with himself; because he does not consent 
 to come down to the level of his misery ; in a word, because 
 he wishes to be great. u Despite the view of all our miseries 
 which touch us, which hold us by the throat, we have (says 
 Pascal) an instinct which we cannot repress, which elevates 
 us" (II. 8). What do I say? Man is not only great 
 because he knows himself great, but because he knows him- 
 self miserable. " The greatness of man is great (says. 
 Pascal) in that he knows himself miserable. It is to be 
 miserable, in truth, to know ourselves miserable ; but it is 
 to be great to know that we are miserable" (II. 82). What 
 is it then that is great in the one case and the other ? It is 
 not specifically to know that we are great, nor specifically 
 to know that we are miserable ; it is to knoiu. But to know is 
 to think. It is then thought that constitutes the greatness 
 of man ; and reason, which is the instrument of thought, 
 reason, so degraded, according to Pascal, that it is no longer 
 reasonable (II. 125), is the constituent element, the foun- 
 dation of our greatness. It is often foolish, this thought, 
 but still it is thought. " How low it is by its defects ! but 
 how great by its nature !" For it is it that makes the being 
 of man. u It behoved to have great defects, that it should 
 be contemptible" (II. 85). Man is deeply convinced of this ; 
 his love for glory may prove it. " For, whatever possession 
 he may have on the earth, whatever health and essential 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 129 
 
 comfort he may have, he is not satisfied if he is not in the 
 esteem of men. He estimates so highly the reason of man, 
 that whatever advantage he may have upon the earth, if he 
 is not also placed advantageously in the reason of man, he 
 is not content" (II. 80). 
 
 This is what balances his miseries ; tlii3 is what prevents 
 their destroying him. " Man is but the feeblest reed in 
 nature ; but he is a thinking reed. It is not needed that 
 the entire universe arm itself to crush him. A vapour, a 
 drop of water, is sufficient to kill him. But though the 
 universe should crush him, man would still be more noble 
 than that which kills him, because he knows that he dies, 
 and the universe knows nothing of the advantage that it 
 has over him. — All our dignity then consists in thought. 
 It is by this that we are to elevate ourselves, not by the 
 space or the time which we cannot fill. Let us then labour 
 to think: behold the beginning of morality" (II. 84). 
 
 This last expression, so unexpected, darts forth like a 
 lightning-flash, at the end of the passage. Morality is then 
 loftier than thought, and thought has all its greatness, only 
 in so far as it is the beginning of morality. Let us keep 
 this in mind. 
 
 But if we know ourselves to be great even by this that 
 we feel ourselves miserable, the knowledge of our misery 
 brings us in other light. We should not feel ourselves 
 miserable if we had always been so. " Who is wretched 
 because he is not a king, except a king deposed ? Should 
 we consider Paulus JEmilius unhappy because he is no 
 longer consul ? On the contrary, all the world would con- 
 sider him fortunate to have been consul, because the condi- 
 tion of the consulship was not to be always consul. But 
 
130 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 we should regard Perseus unhappy in being no longer king, 
 because the condition of his kingship was to be always king " 
 (II. 82). " All the miseries of man (that is to say, all 
 the suffering which occasions to him the three-fold want 
 of which Pascal has told us), prove his greatness. His 
 miseries are those of a great lord, of a king dethroned " 
 (II. 82). 
 
 u Let man now estimate himself at his proper price. Let 
 him love himself, for he has in him a nature capable of 
 good ; but let him not, for that, love the basenesses that are 
 in him. Let him despise himself, because this capacity is 
 empty ; but let him not, for that, despise his natural capa- 
 city. Let him hate himself; let him love himself. He 
 has in him the capacity of knowing the truth and of being 
 happy ; but he has not truth, either constant or satisfying " 
 (II. 90). " Shall the only one who knows it be the only 
 unhappy one?" (II. 118.) 
 
 This u constant or satisfying " truth, where is it to be 
 sought for ? 
 
 The philosophers present themselves. 
 
 After a profound discussion, Pascal rejects the Stoics and 
 the Epicureans, the former of whom have known only the 
 greatness, and the latter only the misery of man. " Some 
 (says he) have wished to renounce the passions and become 
 gods ; others have wished to renounce reason and become 
 brute beasts" (II. 91). 
 
 Among all the sects of philosophers, one alone deserves 
 to be heard, or at least compels us to hear it. It is the sect 
 of the Pyrrhonists. 
 
 In order that this remarkable piece may be rightly un- 
 derstood, we must take into account the state of mind of 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 131 
 
 Pascal. It is an incomprehensible mixture of contempt and 
 terror. 
 
 One would say, on seeing the commencement, that the 
 general tone will be that of contempt. 
 
 il I shall write here (says Pascal) my thoughts without 
 order, and not perhaps in confusion without design. It is 
 the true order, and will mark my design even by the dis- 
 order. I should do too much honour to my subject, if I 
 treated it with order : since I wish to show that it is in- 
 capable of order." (II. 96.) 
 
 This disorder, which was intended to be a sign of dis- 
 dain, this kind of rolling of the ship into which the au- 
 thor embarks us with himself on the ocean of doubt, in- 
 spires the unhappy passengers rather with alarm than 
 contempt. 
 
 The point of departure, the datum of the whole chapter, 
 is this. u Man is made to know the truth : he desires it 
 ardently, he searches for it ; yet when he tries to seize it, 
 he is so dazzled and confounded, that he gives occasion to 
 dispute his possession of it. It is this that has given birth 
 to the two sects of Pyrrhonists and Dogmatists, the former 
 of whom have wished to take away from man all knowledge 
 of the truth, the latter strive to assure him of it ; but each 
 with reasons so little truth-like, that they increase the con- 
 fusion and embarrassment of man, as long as he has no 
 other light than that which he finds in his own nature." 
 (II. 100.) 
 
 They cannot overthrow one another. Dogmatism is 
 strong, because it has nature, or a sort of internal necessity 
 on its side ; Pyrrhonism is strong by the logical weakness 
 of its rival, but not otherwise. 
 
132 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 u We have," says the author, u an incapacity of proof 
 which cannot be overcome by any dogmatism. We have 
 an idea of truth, which cannot be overcome by any Pyr- 
 rhonism" (II. 99). But at bottom " Pyrrhonism is true." 
 So Pascal says, and throughout several pages you shall see 
 him, with a sort of enthusiasm, act the part of an advocate 
 or organ of Pyrrhonism, of which he reproduces the best 
 known arguments. " The only strength of the Dogmatists 
 (adds he) is, that speaking in good faith and sincerely, 
 we cannot doubt natural principles. Against this the 
 Pyrrhonists oppose the uncertainty of our origin, which 
 includes that of our nature ; to which the Dogmatists will 
 still have to seek an answer while the world lasts." (II. 
 102.) 
 
 All the answer that can be given is, that if reason gives 
 reason to the Pyrrhonists, " nature confounds them ;" 
 nature, says Pascal, " supports feeble reason, and prevents 
 its being so extravagant" (II. 103). 
 
 Thus we find, indeed, in our reason, an obstacle to Dog- 
 matism ; but we find in our nature an absolute opposition 
 to Pyrrhonism. Whether we will or no, we affirm, we 
 dogmatise, we believe. 4 
 
 This is very well for practice and for life ; but in theory 
 the difficulty remains untouched. Pascal does not restrict 
 himself, against Pyrrhonism, to this summary and haughty 
 plea of declining jurisdiction. He comes down to the field 
 of discussion, and maintains that Pyrrhonism derives the 
 greater part of its force from a petitio principii. Pyrrhonism 
 defies our reason to prove first principles ; but in fact that 
 is not its affair. It would be of as much use to deny to a 
 man that he is suffering or enjoying till he has proved it. 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 1 33 
 
 This denial would be exactly like that of M. Jourdain's 
 tailor in the Bourgeois-gentilhomme. We must rise up from 
 proof to proof unto a fact which does not admit of proof — a 
 fact which we affirm because we feel it. It would serve 
 nothing to say that what we call primitive is not always 
 primitive ; for, if we are liable, as I admit that we are, to 
 take the derivative for the primitive, we shall never take 
 the primitive for the derivative. It is perfectly in accordance 
 with reason to suppose that there are truths without the 
 reach of reasoning. It would be unreasonable to deny it. 
 By those truths, independent of reasoning, we do not mean 
 the mysteries of the Divine essence, but the truths which 
 immediate intuition, or the heart, as Pascal says, makes 
 known to us. The heart, as well as the reason, is an organ 
 of knowledge ; and although it does not reason, we cannot 
 see why man should put less confidence in it than in those 
 first principles of the reason, which cannot be proved, and 
 from which all men, even the Pyrrhonists, set out in proving 
 their systems. As the Pyrrhonists do not deny these first 
 principles of logic, since they make use of them, they have 
 no right to deny first principles in general. And it serves 
 them nothing to say, that under the name of the heart, 
 Pascal again introduces nature. Why not ? What is the 
 meaning of the term? The question is always about a 
 primitive fact, which is affirmed without being proved. We 
 willingly grant this. Was it not always necessary that 
 reason should have a point of departure ? Could it be its 
 own point of departure ? In that case we should not be 
 men ; we should be God. But it is time that we should let 
 Pascal speak : — 
 
 "We know truth, not only by the reason, but also by the 
 
134 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 heart. It is in this latter way that we[know first principles ; 
 and it is in vain that reasoning, which has nothing to do with 
 the matter, attempts to dispute them. The Pyrrhonists, who 
 have only this for their object, labour at it to no purpose. 
 We know that we are not dreaming, however unable we 
 are to prove it by reasoning. This inability shows only 
 the weakness of our reason ; not, as they would have it, the 
 uncertainty of all our knowledge. For the knowledge of 
 first principles, as the existence of space, time, motion, num- 
 bers, is as firm as any of those which our reasoning gives us. 
 And it is upon such knowledge of the heart and of instinct, 
 that reason supports itself and founds all its discourses. 
 The heart perceives that there are three dimensions in space, 
 and that numbers are infinite ; and reason then demonstrates 
 that there are no two square numbers of which the one is 
 double the other. Principles are perceived ; propositions 
 are deduced, and the whole with certainty, though by dif- 
 ferent ways. And it is as ridiculous that reason should 
 demand of the heart proofs of its first principles before it 
 will admit them, as it would be ridiculous that the heart 
 should demand of the reason a perception of all the proposi- 
 tions that it demonstrates, before it will receive them. 
 
 " This inability ought then to serve only to humble reason, 
 which would judge of every thing, but not to lessen our 
 certainty, as if reason alone were capable of instructing us. 
 Would to God that, on the contrary, we had no need of 
 reason at all, and that we knew all things by instinct and 
 feeling ! But nature has refused us this blessing, and on 
 the contrary it gives us but very little knowledge of this 
 sort ; all other knowledge can only be acquired by reason- 
 ing." (I. 108-109.) 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 135 
 
 This, gentlemen, if I be not much mistaken, this is the 
 last word of Pascal on this subject. And many other pas- 
 sages establish, as does the last line of this passage, his 
 confidence in reason as an instrument of certainty, and his 
 freedom from the extravagance of Pyrrhonism. Thus you 
 may hear him say : — 
 
 u If we shock the principles of reason, our religion will 
 be absurd and ridiculous." There are two excesses equally 
 dangerous : " to exclude reason, and to admit only reason" 
 (II. 348). " As to those who have not religion by feeling, 
 we can only procure it for them by reasoning" (II. 352). 
 " The method of God is to put religion into the mind by 
 reasons, and into the heart by grace" (II. 178). 
 
 I do not think that I am wrong in saying that these 
 passages express the conviction of Pascal. On his own 
 account personally he was not a Pyrrhonist ; he regarded 
 Pyrrhonism as a malady of the human mind, but as a 
 malady inherent in man, who cannot, he says, "either 
 escape from one of these sects, or abide in any of them" 
 (II. 104). This malady is a consequence of our fall. a For 
 (exclaims our author) what are we to infer from all our 
 darkness, except our un worthiness 1 " (II. 155). "We 
 must have been born guilty, or God would be unjust" 
 (II. 144). 
 
 " Know then, O proud one (says he to man), what a para- 
 dox you are to yourself. Humble yourself, impotent reason ! 
 Keep silence, weak nature! Learn that man infinitely 
 transcends man, and hear from your Master your real con- 
 dition, which you know not. Listen to God. For, in short, 
 if man had never been corrupted, he would, in his innocence, 
 enjoy both truth and happiness with assurance. And if 
 
136 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 man had never been bnt corrupted, lie would have no idea 
 either of truth or of happiness. But, wretches that we are, 
 and all the more so than if there had been no greatness in 
 our condition, we have an idea of happiness, and cannot at- 
 tain to it ; we perceive an image of truth, and possess only 
 falsehood. Incapable of absolute ignorance and of certain 
 knowledge, it is manifest that w T e were once in a degree of 
 perfection from which we are unhappily fallen " (II. 104). 
 
 Be it as it may (for that is the whole object of this chap- 
 ter), behold, as regards truth and happiness, the philosophers 
 set aside. After all their efforts, man remains wdiat he was, 
 — an object of surprise and terror, — a deplorable enigma. 
 " What a chimera, then, is man ! What a novelty, a 
 monster, a chaos ! what a contradictory subject, — what a 
 prodigy ! Judge of all things, a weak earth-worm ; deposi- 
 tory of truth, a sink of uncertainty and error ; the glory 
 and the shame of the universe!" (II. 103). "If he boast 
 of himself I humble him ; if he humble himself I boast of 
 him ; and always contradict him till he comprehend that 
 he is an incomprehensible monster" (II. 89). 
 
 Let us leave philosophy, and see if religion have more 
 knowledge and power. Natural religion, which Pascal does 
 not name, but which he speaks of without naming it, is but 
 a sort of philosophy, which pretends to connect all its ideas 
 with the idea of God, making all things depend on Him 
 and tend towards Him by turns. This new philosophy finds 
 no more favour in Pascal's eyes than the others. It directs 
 us to God. A laudable intention, but, at the same time, a 
 gross error respecting our natural capacity. For man either 
 knows, or does not know, himself. But " what a fine thing 
 it is to say to a man who does not know himself, that he 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 137 
 
 should go from himself to God ; and what a fine thing to 
 say to a man who does know himself!" (II. 95). The for- 
 mer will not care to do so through arrogance ; the latter 
 will be kept back by discouragement. Speaking to the 
 philosophers who would persuade men to dispense with God, 
 Pascal said to them : U If man is not made for God, why is 
 it that he is not happy but in God ? " Speaking to the fol- 
 lowers of natural religion, he says to them : " If man is 
 made for God, why is he so contrary to God?" (II. 90). 
 First destroy this contrariety. 
 
 Such, under one aspect, is the weakness of this philosophy. 
 Its weakness is not less evident in another respect, that of 
 the knowledge of God. 
 
 It pretends to adduce two sorts of proofs of the existence 
 of the Supreme Being, physical proofs and metaphysical 
 proofs. The physical proofs, derived from the fair order of 
 the universe, implying a system of optimism, fill Pascal with 
 a contempt which he does not conceal (II. 113). He puts 
 scarcely more value on the metaphysical proofs, on which he 
 makes this observation : u The metaphysical proofs of God 
 are so remote from the reasonings of men, and so involved, 
 that they have little influence. And though it should be 
 of use to some, it would only be during the instant that they 
 were looking at the demonstration. An hour after, they 
 would be afraid that they had been misled" (II. 114). 
 
 Do not these words recall those of Fontenelle in his 
 eulogy of Malebranche : — 
 
 u It is sufficiently apparent that in this respect (in respect 
 of edification), metaphysical ideas will always be, for the 
 most of men, like the flame of spirit of wine, which is too 
 subtile to set fire to wood." 
 
 M 
 
1 38 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 But more than this : these proofs are not only insufficient, 
 they are useless. u I will not undertake (says our author) 
 to prove by natural reasons either the existence of God, or 
 the Trinity, or the immortality of the soul, or anything of 
 this kind ; not only because I should not feel myself suf- 
 ficiently able to find in nature the means of convincing 
 hardened atheists, but also because this knowledge, without 
 Jesus Christ, is useless and barren. Though a man were 
 persuaded that the proportions of numbers are immaterial 
 eternal truths, dependent on a first truth in which they sub- 
 sist, and which is called God, I should not consider that he 
 had made much advance as respects his salvation" (II. 
 115). 
 
 The author concludes these considerations on natural re- 
 ligion, with the following reflections, full of seriousness and 
 melancholy : 
 
 " I look round on all sides, and everywhere I see only 
 obscurity. Nature offers me nothing but matter of doubt 
 and disquietude. If I saw nothing to indicate a Divinity, 
 I should determine not to believe in one. If I saw everv- 
 where marks of a Creator, I should rest peacefully in the 
 faith. But seeing too much to admit of denial, and too 
 little for assurance, I am in a lamentable condition ; and I 
 have wished a hundred times, that if a God sustains nature, 
 she would unequivocally indicate Him, and that if the in- 
 dications which she gives are fallacious, she would suppress 
 them altogether ; that she would say all, or say nothing, 
 that I might see what part to take. Whereas, in my actual 
 condition, knowing neither what I am nor what I ought to 
 do, I cannot find out either my condition or my duty. My 
 heart longs to know where is the true good, that I might 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 139 
 
 follow it. Nothing would be too costly for eternity. (II. 
 128.) 
 
 Let us leave behind us all these ruins, and march, on the 
 steps of Pascal, towards an edifice which has not been built 
 by the hand of man. 
 
 Two ideas serve as the foundation to this second part, in 
 which Pascal begins to affirm after having denied so much, 
 — to build after having demolished so much. 
 
 We must make up our minds to receive the truth from 
 the hands of God. 
 
 We can only receive it by the heart. 
 Or rather, these are the two conditions of success in the 
 investigation to which Pascal is about to devote himself. He 
 who shall ask of himself the truth concerning God, shall 
 not find it ; for, if he were capable of finding it of himself, 
 he would never have lost it. He who shall wish, in this 
 study, to make use of his reason alone, and not of his heart, 
 will not comprehend, will not know, or will know in vain. 
 
 Not only is the heart of great use in this inquiry, but 
 the heart, by itself alone, is sufficient for it. A great num- 
 ber of passages reproduce this idea, to which Pascal attached 
 great importance, and which constitutes, in great part, the 
 originality of this apology. 
 
 u There are three means of believing, reason, custom, in- 
 spiration (or the heart). . . A man must open his mind 
 to proofs ; confirm himself in them by custom ; but prepare 
 himself by humiliations for inspiration, which alone can pro- 
 duce the true and salutary effect." (II. 177.) 
 
 Pascal goes still farther : " Do not be surprised (he says) 
 to see simple men believe without reasoning. God gives 
 them love of Himself and hatred of themselves. He inclines 
 
140 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 their hearts to believe. No one will ever believe with a 
 profitable and faithful belief, if God do not incline his heart ; 
 and when he does so, a man will believe" (II. 177). Thus 
 is reasoning superseded by love of God and self-hatred. 
 
 u Those whom we see to be Christians without knowledge 
 of prophecies and of proofs, do not fail to judge as soundly 
 of it as those who have this knowledge. They judge of it 
 by the heart, as the others judge of it by the mind. It is 
 God Himself who inclines them to believe, and thus they are 
 very effectually convinced." (II. 179.) Here the heart 
 dispenses with even the knowledge of the proofs. 
 
 " Those to whom God has given religion by the feeling 
 of the heart, are very happy and well persuaded. But, as 
 to those who have it not, we cannot procure it for them but 
 by reasoning, waiting till God himself impress it on their 
 hearts; without which faith is useless for salvation." (II. 
 352.) 
 
 Elsewhere, and more briefly, he says : u Behold what 
 faith is : God sensible to the heart, not to the reason." (II. 
 172.) 
 
 From all this Pascal derives a practical lesson, which you 
 will thank me for presenting to you. 
 
 u The procedure of God, who disposes all things with 
 gentleness, is to put religion into the mind by reasons, and 
 into the heart by grace. But to try to put it into the mind 
 and the heart by violence and threats, is not to put religion 
 there but terror." (II. 178.) 
 
 Having got thus far, gentlemen, picture to yourselves a 
 man whom religion, by its internal characters of truth, power- 
 fully attracts to itself, but who, whether from natural incapa- 
 city or want of knowledge, feels himself to be, and is in fact, 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 141 
 
 unable on this point to bring his reason into accordance with 
 his heart. Or else, suppose a man whose reason has been 
 satisfied of the truth of Christianity by the external proofs, 
 whom his reason, consequently, urges to be a Christian, but 
 who cannot become one. Both these are well known and 
 common cases. Both the one and the other, in order to take 
 this last step, which in itself alone is equivalent to the whole 
 distance, have but one thing to do. Pascal has already told 
 us what it is, " to prepare themselves by humiliations for 
 inspiration." (II. 177.) This he expresses elsewhere, in 
 terms less eloquent, but more explicit. 
 
 " I should wish to induce man to be ready, and set free 
 from passions, in order to follow truth wherever he may find 
 it. Aware how much his knowledge is darkened by the 
 passions, I should wish him to hate that lust in himself 
 which sways him at its pleasure, so that it might neither 
 blind him in making his choice, nor impede him when he 
 has chosen." (II. 90.) 
 
 Such, in both the cases which we have supposed, is the 
 liquidation of the arrears, the means of supplying the deficit. 
 But Pascal confines himself to the former case, that in 
 which the heart being nearly resolved, the understanding is, 
 as it were, fettered in a lamentable infidelity. This is the 
 subject of the famous piece {Infinite : nothing, II. 167-169), 
 in which Pascal appears to reduce a question of truth to a 
 question of simple calculation, or of interest, rightly under- 
 stood. I shall discuss afterwards the purpose and the mean- 
 ing of this piece. At present I shall only say, that the 
 admirable saying of Christ, " He who shall be willing to do 
 the will of my Father, shall know whether my doctrine 
 cometh from God, or whether I speak of myself," finds here 
 
142 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 a commentary and developments with which it might have 
 dispensed, and in which the boldness and the ardour of Pas- 
 cal's mind are too conspicuous ; but of which, after all, the 
 idea is just and even philosophical. The thought of Pascal 
 may be summed up in these words, which we read elsewhere : 
 " I should soon have abandoned pleasures, say they, if I had 
 faith. For my part, I say to you, you should soon have 
 faith if you had abandoned pleasures. But it is your part to 
 begin. If I could I would give you faith. I cannot do this, 
 nor, consequently, prove the truth of what you say (that 
 you would abandon pleasures). But you can abandon plea- 
 sures, and test the truth of what I say." (II. 181.) 
 
 To the reasonings of the mind, and the inspirations of the 
 heart, which have determined you to believe, join, when 
 faith shall have been given you, habit or custom. Bring 
 the automaton, as Pascal terms it, to concur for the preser- 
 vation of the blessing which you have obtained by the use 
 of your higher faculties. u We must have recourse to 
 custom when once the mind has seen where the truth lies, in 
 order to refresh and tinge ourselves with that belief which 
 is continually escaping from us. For it is too difficult to 
 have the proofs of it always before us" (II. 175). I sup- 
 pose that Pascal would only have completed his own thought 
 by saying, that if there be a habit fitted to preserve faith, 
 it is the habit of acting and living according to that faith ; 
 for here at least the power is maintained by the means 
 which have procured it. 
 
 The remainder of the work does not require so detailed 
 an analysis on our part. Not that it is not worthy of it, but 
 it was my chief aim to guide you in the reading of the first 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 143 
 
 part. The second is beyond comparison more connected 
 and more clear. 
 
 In it the author treats first of the characteristics of the 
 true religion, which must, says he, inspire us at once with 
 esteem, and contempt of ourselves (II. 141, 142), constrain 
 us to love God (II. 144) ; and lastly, in order that it may 
 be a moral fact and a principle of morality in our life, must 
 " afford enough of light to those who desire only to see, and 
 enough of darkness to those who are contrarily disposed " 
 (II. 151). 
 
 Approaching, then, the positive religions, " he sees abund- 
 ance of religions in many quarters of the world, and in all 
 ages ; but they have neither the morality which can please 
 him, nor the proofs which can arrest him" (II. 185). Then 
 he sets himself to the consideration of the Christian religion, 
 founded on a preceding religion, of which he studies the 
 history and the characteristics, with reference to its design. 
 He passes on to the miracles, the types, the prophecies, and 
 then enters, but in his own manner, on the ordinary paths 
 of apologetics. There are few things in this part of the 
 work which are not original, its general characteristic being, 
 in conformity with the principles which he had previously 
 laid down, to speak to the heart in speaking to the mind. 
 At last the author comes to Christianity, or, to speak as he 
 speaks, to Jesus Christ, the object of the prophecies, the end 
 of the miracles, the inner sense of all the Jewish religion, 
 the divine flower which comes at the proper season to bloom 
 upon this great tree planted near to the cradle of humanity, 
 and of which He was the concealed root before He was the 
 open and fragrant flower. It is not till after he has spoken 
 of Him who is the object and the author of the Christian 
 
144 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 religion, that he treats of the Christian religion itself, as a 
 body of doctrine and of morals ; and that he applies himself, 
 by several striking considerations, to exhibit its excellence 
 and its beauty. I shall not quote any of these. I prefer 
 transcribing for you the immortal page in which, speaking of 
 him who has realised on the earth the idea of the true great- 
 ness, he carries us with him over the scale of all greatness. 
 
 " The infinite distance between body and mind is a figure 
 of the infinitely more infinite distance between mind and 
 love : for this is supernatural. 
 
 a All the splendour of worldly greatnesslias no lustre for 
 people who are engaged in investigations of the mind. 
 
 " The greatness of men of mind is invisible to kings, rich 
 men, captains, — all carnally great ones. 
 
 " The greatness of wisdom, which is nowhere but in God, 
 is invisible to the carnal and the intellectual. The three 
 orders are different in kind. 
 
 " Great geniuses have their empire, their eclat, their 
 greatness, their victory, their brilliancy ; they have no need 
 of carnal greatness, with which they have no concern. They 
 are not seen by eyes but by minds. That is enough. 
 
 " The saints have their empire, their eclat, their victory, 
 their lustre ; and they have no need of carnal or mental great- 
 ness, with which they have no concern, for they neither add 
 to them nor take from them. They are seen of God and of 
 angels, not of bodies nor of curious minds. God is enough 
 for them. 
 
 " Archimedes, without any eclat, would be in the same 
 veneration. He did not fight battles for men to gaze at, 
 but he has given his inventions to all minds. Oh how he 
 has shone upon men's minds ! 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 145 
 
 "Jesus Christ, without property and without any enlarge- 
 ment of science, is great in his order of holiness. He did 
 not give us any invention, — He did not reign ; but He was 
 humble, patient, holy, holy, holy towards God ; terrible to 
 the devils ; without any sin. Oh how He came in great 
 state and in prodigious magnificence to the eyes of the 
 heart, and of those who can see wisdom ! 
 
 " It would have been useless to Archimedes to act the 
 prince in his geometrical books, though he had been one. It 
 would have been useless to our Lord Jesus Christ, in order 
 to shine in His kingdom of holiness, to come as a king. He 
 did well to come with the splendour of His own order. 
 
 " There are men who can 'only admire carnal greatness, 
 as if there were no such thing as mental greatness ; and 
 others who admire only mental greatness, as if there were 
 not infinitely higher greatness in wisdom. 
 
 " All bodies, — the firmament, the stars, the earth and its 
 kingdoms, — are not so much worth as the smallest mind : 
 for it knows all this, and knows itself ; but inatter knows 
 nothing. 
 
 " All bodies together, and all minds together, and all their 
 productions, are not so much worth as the smallest emotion 
 of love : it is of an order infinitely more exalted. 
 
 " From all bodies together we could not draw forth the 
 smallest thought ; it is impossible, thought being of another 
 order. 
 
 u From all bodies and minds, we could not extract an 
 emotion of true love. It is impossible, love being of another 
 and a supernatural order." (II. 330-333.) 
 
 It is difficult to distinguish, among the Miscellaneous 
 Thoughts of Pascal, those which belong to his principal de- 
 
146 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 sign : but they agree with it, if they do not belong to it. It 
 is the same view of the condition of man, and the same lofty 
 disdain of all that the world admires. Who can fail to re- 
 cognise, in the tone as in the thought, the Pascal of the 
 Apology in the following passages : — 
 
 * Knowledge has two extremes which meet. The first 
 is the pure natural ignorance in which all men are found 
 to be at their birth. The other extreme is that at which 
 those great"souls"arrive, who, having gone over all that men 
 can know, find that they know nothing, and land in the 
 same ignorance from which they set out. But it is a 
 knowing ignorance which knows itself. Those between 
 the two, who have escaped from the natural ignorance and 
 have not been able to reach the other, have some taint of 
 this self-sufficient knowledge, and act the intelligent. These 
 men trouble the world, and misjudge everything" (1. 180). 
 
 u The last act is bloody, however fair be the comedy in all 
 the rest. At last the earth is thrown on the head, and there 
 is an end for. ever" (L 214). You may remember the com- 
 mentary of M. de Chateaubriand : "How frightful is this last 
 expression. We see first the comedy, then the earth, and 
 then eternity. The carelessness With which the expression 
 is thrown out shows the worthlessness of human life. What 
 bitter indifference in this short and cold history of man !" 
 
 "A small matter comforts us, because a small matter 
 afflicts us." 
 
 How often have the following thoughts been quoted : 
 
 " Cromwell was about to lay waste all Christendom. 
 The royal family had been ruined, and his own powerful 
 for ever, but for a small grain of sand which found its way 
 into his urethra. Rome itself was about to tremble under 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 147 
 
 him. But this small gravel being put there, he dies, his 
 family is humbled, all is in peace, and the king is restored." 
 
 a He who would know fully the vanity of man, has only 
 
 to consider the causes and the effects of love If 
 
 Cleopatra's nose had been shorter, the whole face of the 
 earth would have been different." (I. 207.) 
 
 We are now on the territory of Voltaire, whose taste is 
 known for this bringing together of small causes and great 
 effects. The religious point of view alone can raise this frivo- 
 lous antithesis above itself. For Voltaire, there is nothing 
 on this side or beyond the fact which he chooses to exhibit. 
 Pascal, in exhibiting it, perhaps obeys a secret desire to 
 humiliate man ; but, without doubt, his inmost thought is 
 summed up in this word of a prophet : " Oh, Eternal One ! 
 I know that the way of man depends not on himself." 
 
 Man is certainly more roughly handled, and with a mas- 
 ter's hand, in those notions in which Pascal appears to anti- 
 cipate La Rochefoucauld and La Bruyere. 
 
 u We do not sustain ourselves in virtue by our own 
 strength, but by the counterpoise of two opposite vices, as we 
 remain erect between two contrary winds. Take away one 
 of these vices, and we fall into the other." (I. 209.) 
 
 Virtue would then be the balance of vices. La Koche- 
 foucauld was never more bitter : and he is never so much 
 so as is Pascal in this thought, in which passion is ex- 
 hibited : — 
 
 "All men naturally hate each other. Advantage has been 
 taken, so far as possible, of lust (selfishness), to make it sub- 
 servient to the public good ; but it is only a feint and a false 
 image of charity. For at bottom it is only hatred." (L 225.) 
 
 "Man is so constituted (says Pascal again) that, by means 
 
148 ON THE THOUGHTS OF TASCAL. 
 
 of telling him that he is a fool, he believes it: and by means of 
 saying it to himself, he makes himself believe it." (I. 218.) 
 
 u Reason commands us far more imperiously than a 
 master ; for, in disobeying the one, we are unhappy, in dis- 
 obeying the other, we are foolish." 
 
 We have every reason to believe that Pascal greatly 
 dreaded the latter of these misfortunes. 
 
 On the whole, it cannot be denied that Pascal, in this 
 part of his book as in others, has 
 
 " Pushed to excess his keen hyperbole." 
 
 I confess that I prefer fixing your attention on the 
 thoughts in which passion has less place, and philosophy 
 much more. It is, in fact, philosophy that claims the 
 luminous and large views which Pascal has condensed in 
 the following passages : — 
 
 u All our reasoning is reduced to yielding to feeling." 
 
 " Nothing that is presented to the soul is simple, and the 
 soul is never presented simply to any subject." (I. 191.) 
 
 " I know a little what it (order) is, and how few people 
 understand it. Mathematics preserve it, but they are use- 
 less in their depth." (II. 389.) 
 
 " The reasons which, when seen at a distance, seem to 
 bound our view, do not bound it when we come up to them ; 
 we begin to see beyond them." (I. 215.) 
 
 Notwithstanding all the offence that has been taken at 
 this other thought, — " We ought to have a thought in re- 
 serve, and to judge of everything by it, still speaking like 
 the people," — I will venture to say that it appears to me 
 very just, saving its form, for which Pascal is not responsible. 
 From man to man, truth is one only in the feeling which 
 they have of it ; but there would be as many expressions of 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 149 
 
 it as there are minds, if the instrument (I mean language) 
 could accommodate itself to them, and if the fineness of 
 the conception in every one were equal to the delicacy of 
 the impression.* Every one, then, must have his expression 
 or his thought in reserve ; but he must, at the same time, 
 speak like the people, which does not mean that he will 
 disguise his own thought, but only that, in his language, he 
 will confine himself to an expression less learned, less pro- 
 found, less philosophical, which is within reach and in use 
 of all. This is not the esoterism of the old philosophers, 
 nor the opposition of two senses, one of which amuses the 
 imagination, while the other occupies and nourishes the 
 thought. There are two languages : that of the thinker, 
 and that of the simple man ; but the thought is one and the 
 same. 
 
 The Thoughts on Eloquence and Style have been, very 
 properly, put by themselves. There is no one who would 
 not desire to see the elements reunited of the theory which 
 Pascal has applied in his writings with so rare a superiority. 
 Theory and practice, with Pascal, translate each other with 
 extreme exactness. To apply the soul all naked to truth 
 all naked, is what Pascal does, and what he requires of 
 a writer. Nothing, not even the most transparent crystal, 
 between the author and his subject ; that is, in tw T o words, 
 all his rhetoric. In other words, to be a writer without 
 making profession of it, to be a man rather than a writer, 
 to live first, and then let his life develop itself in his words : 
 this is the whole of the art. The business is not so much 
 to clothe the truth as to strip it, diligently to remove from 
 it all that, under whatever pretence, might come between it 
 * See Appendix, Note S. 
 
1 50 ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 and us. " When we see the natural style, we are com- 
 pletely astonished and charmed ; for we expected to see an 
 author, and we find a man. Whereas those who have 
 good taste, and who, on looking into a book, think that they 
 will find a man, are wholly surprised when they find an 
 author" (I. 249). 
 
 Pascal is not less excellent when, from this intrinsic 
 truthfulness of style, he passes to that other truthfulness 
 which it has been agreed to call eloquence. For eloquence 
 is never aught but truth. If, in the former case, truth con- 
 sists in the intimate relation between the expression and the 
 thought, it" supposes, in the second case, a no less intimate 
 relation between the soul that speaks and the soul that 
 hears. I shall not transcribe a passage so well known. 
 Those who remember it will, I doubt not, agree that the 
 generating principle of eloquence could not be defined with 
 more simplicity and force. Pascal has not treated, has 
 scarcely even touched, any subject, without having in some 
 sort rendered it a forbidden subject to all men besides. 
 The most accomplished, after him, seem reduced to come 
 near him ; so closely does his thought grasp the object, so 
 closely does his expression grasp his thought. And when 
 we reflect how constantly he disdained the use of figurative 
 language, which comes to our help after direct language 
 fails us, precisely as music comes after speech, we cannot 
 sufficiently admire so much force. All that figure is to 
 others, emotion is to him, and passion is the sole ornament 
 of his style. 
 
 By the masculine simplicity of his diction, Pascal seemed 
 to have taken part, in literature, for the ancients against 
 the moderns. But the fact is, that he thought little of 
 
ON THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 151 
 
 the matter. Pie had, I believe, little acquaintance with the 
 ancients ; and beyond the very general principles which he 
 has laid down in his Thoughts on Eloquence and Style y 
 literary questions had no existence for him. Much more a 
 realist than a humanist in education, he is not one of the 
 writers who lend their authority in favour of classical 
 studies. It is much that he did not disavow them. Per- 
 haps this great writer, who, after having invented the mathe- 
 matics, invented the art of writing, made too little account, 
 in this delicate matter, of tradition, and set too little value 
 upon models. Perhaps this great mind, who comprehended 
 so many things, did not take the trouble to comprehend all 
 things. I am afraid that he had scarcely more relish for 
 good poetry than for bad, and that all that was poetical 
 was to him " the fatal laurel and the beauteous star." It 
 is rare, it is perhaps impossible, to be at once immense and 
 well proportioned. In more than one respect, Pascal was 
 only immense. In other respects, and these the most im- 
 portant, it is precisely proportion that distinguishes him and 
 renders him eminent. 
 
152 OF THE THEOLOGY OF THE 
 
 V. 
 
 OF THE THEOLOGY OF THE BOOK OF THE THOUGHTS. 
 
 We have gone over with, long strides, and measured with 
 our eye, the space where great ruins (for what else can we 
 call them ?) mark out to us a great design. Shall we tell 
 the meaning of each of these panels of wall, of each of these 
 pillars ? Do we know, amongst all these constructions, what 
 was to remain erect, and what the architect would himself 
 have overturned ? Do we know even if all these materials 
 belonged to a single design ? The general form which this 
 unfinished monument takes in our mind, is it at least in 
 conformity with the conception of the great man who reared 
 it with his dying hands ? Let us leave to the learned artist 
 to reconstruct at Tadmor the Temple of the Sun. His hope 
 is perhaps less presumptuous than ours would be. Every- 
 thing forbids us to make too absolute assertions, everything 
 impresses upon us reserve. It will preside, I hope, over 
 those observations which we have still to present to you on 
 this so important part of Pascal's book. Convinced that the 
 author, in many places of his work, is himself searching for 
 his thought, and that several of his assertions might be most 
 properly transformed into interrogations, we should risk too 
 much were we to add up in one term, so to speak, the cer- 
 tainty with the doubt, the conclusive with the conjectural, 
 and — who knows ? — the yes, perhaps, with the no. Even the 
 language of Pascal imposes precautions upon us. It is per- 
 
BOOK OF THE THOUGHTS. 1 53 
 
 Laps with glossary in hand that we ought to set about the 
 reading of it. The language of Pascal is singularly peculiar 
 to him. A writer who opposes the judgment to the mind, 
 who denotes under the name of the heart every kind of in- 
 tuition, who habitually uses reason in the sense of reason- 
 ing, spiritual in the sense of intellectual, abstract in the 
 sense of objective, may easily lead into error or disconcert 
 his readers,* especially readers of the nineteenth century. 
 Since there is so much question of Pyrrhonism in the book, 
 and on the subject of the book, of Pascal, let us say that a 
 little Pyrrhonism is seasonable in the reading of Pascal. 
 For my part, I confess myself a Pyrrhonist with respect to 
 some passages of the book of Thoughts. I shall not make 
 affirmations, therefore, but when I can do it w T ith security. 
 But all is not problematical or obscure in this famous 
 work. We not only recognise in it very determinate ten- 
 dencies, but very distinct convictions. Upon them dis- 
 cussion may lay hold; with them criticism has to do. 
 Let her enter then, but with respect and modesty. Though 
 it were certain that Pascal thought evil of Descartes, and 
 spoke ill of M. Cousin (and it can hardly be denied), this 
 would be no reason for treating lightly so great a man. 
 
 The idea which serves as the foundation of the Apology 
 of Pascal was not, and could not be, absolutely new. More 
 than one before him had found in the mysteries and the 
 miseries of the condition of man a presumption in favour 
 of the Gospel, or at least in favour of the idea of a revela- 
 tion. The want of light and of hope, which makes men 
 welcome all religions, hurried our ancestors, horribly un- 
 
 * Most of these ambiguities we have avoided, sometimes not without dif- 
 ficulty, in the translation of the extracts contained in this volume. 
 
154 OF THE THEOLOGY OF THE 
 
 happy, to the reception of the Gospel. For a great num- 
 ber of wretches, whether of the lettered class or of the 
 ignorant crowd, the adoption of Christianity w T as a last 
 attempt, tried advisedly by some and blindly by others. 
 Anticipatively, a want is a proof. Without doubt he had 
 examined but little, that warrior of Northumberland, who 
 towards the middle of the sixth century gave his vote in 
 these terms, if we are to believe M. Thierry, in favour of 
 the new doctrine : — 
 
 " Perhaps you recollect, oh King, a thing which some- 
 times happens in winter days, when you are seated at table 
 with your captains and your men at arms, while a good fire 
 is lighted, and your hall is comfortably warm, but it rains, 
 snows, and blows outside. A little bird comes in and crosses 
 the hall with a dash, entering by one door and going out 
 by the other. The instant of this crossing is for it full of 
 delight. It feels no more the rain or the storm. But that 
 instant is brief. The bird flies out in the twinkling of an 
 eye, and from winter it passes into winter. Such appears 
 to me the life of man upon the earth, and its duration for a 
 moment, compared with the length of the time wdiich pre- 
 cedes and that which follows it. This time is dark and un- 
 comfortable for us. It tortures us by the impossibility of 
 our knowing it. If, then, the new doctrine can teach us any- 
 thing in any degree certain, it deserves that we should fol- 
 low it." 
 
 Without further examination, the chronicles tell us, the 
 new worship was voted by the acclamations of the people. 
 Examination, experience, — that involuntary examination, 
 — came afterwards. They had believed from the simple 
 necessity of believing. They knew afterwards why they had 
 
BOOK OF THE THOUGHTS. 155 
 
 believed. Some of the most remarkable pages in the first 
 part of the Thoughts are but the development of this plea- 
 sant apologue of the companion of Edwin. The Saxon, 
 the barbarian, had only been struck by the most immaterial 
 and the least immediate part of the misfortune of our condi- 
 tion. Still the idea of introducing an apology for Chris- 
 tianity by a profound study of all our miseries, belongs to 
 Pascal. Augustine and Tertullian had taken as their point 
 of support the miseries of society in their times, and the 
 inability of polytheism to relieve them. They had made 
 use of history, Pascal made use of natural history. I can- 
 not say that Charron set him the example. In the first place, 
 Charron has only spoken of our incapacity of knowledge, and 
 of that he has not w T ritten in Pascal's point of view. Char- 
 ron represents himself as an apologist for Christianity ; but 
 he is not. To shake the foundations of belief in general, is 
 to shake, with the same blow, the foundations of the Chris- 
 tian belief. Was this his object ? I have never been able 
 to help believing that it was. Be that as it may, Charron 
 and his associates are but subtle, cold, indifferent intel- 
 lects. Pascal is a man, touched by the misfortune of his 
 race ; and if he exaggerates this misfortune (which, in his 
 point of view, is scarcely possible), it is at least not because 
 it gives him pleasure to do so. He does not enlarge the 
 wound, but the better to heal it. 
 
 This humanity of thought and of heart is, perhaps, the 
 most characteristic feature of his book. It is a tender and 
 austere compassion, in which are perceptible respect and a 
 sort of piety towards man. This respect, this piety, rest 
 upon the idea that man is the most accurate expression of 
 the creative conception, the most direct emanation from the 
 
156 OF THE THEOLOGY OF THE 
 
 Divine essence, and, with respect to creation, the key-stone 
 of the arch, which falls and crumbles with him. To re- 
 construct the arch around this stone, raised and shaped 
 anew by a Divine hand, is the work of Christianity, which 
 has for its object the whole creation, and not man alone ; 
 but still man especially, inasmuch as the universe is nothing 
 without man, just as man is nothing without God. In his 
 book Pascal addresses himself to all the wants, all the 
 interests, all the distresses of man. He appeals, respecting 
 them, from man to man himself. Man without God, man 
 with God. That is the whole plan of the work, which is 
 an apology for Christianity only in so far as Christianity is 
 man with God ; for the internal truth of Christianity — I do 
 not say its formal or historic truth — is nought else. In 
 estimating all sorts of proofs, Pascal, in his Apology, lays 
 hold of this principal point, and refers to it and subordinates 
 to it all questions. The chapters which have titles the most 
 foreign to this point of view T , contribute towards it as well as 
 all the rest. A twofold psychology, that of God and that 
 of man, is never wanting. God in His divine nature, man 
 in his human nature, are continually considered with refer- 
 ence to each other. 
 
 Let us confine ourselves to one of the terms of the 
 relation, to man. 
 
 The glory of the Gospel is not only to have made truth 
 divine, but to have made it human. Jesus Christ is a God 
 and a man ; and it is the same with His doctrine. It is 
 drawn at once from the depths of God and from the depths 
 of man ; it touches, by its two extremities, the mysteries of 
 the Divine essence and the mysteries of human nature, 
 which are, to say truth, but one and the same mystery ; for 
 
BOOK OF THE THOUGHTS. 157 
 
 the doctrine of man and that of God are two lines which, 
 inclining towards each other, end by meeting and mingling 
 at the summit of the angle in a single and indivisible point, 
 where all distinction escapes the eye, where all analysis is 
 impossible to the mind. Without denying the duality of 
 the terms, and without announcing any other design than 
 that of determining the relation between them, the religions 
 and the philosophies had been able only to do justice to one 
 of the two. Their doctrine was alternately either full of 
 God to the exclusion of man, or full of man to the prejudice 
 of God. The union in Jesus Christ of all the fulness of the 
 Godhead with all the fulness of manhood, was the programme 
 or the symbol, at the same time that it was the support and 
 the substance, of a new doctrine. This unity without con- 
 fusion, consummated at once in idea and in fact, was the 
 fiat lux of a new genesis, the organisation of a second chaos 
 produced by sin ; for, a second time, but in a spiritual sense, 
 " the earth was without form and void," as on the evening 
 of the first of the days. 
 
 And observe well that the two elements, the human and 
 the divine, are not the terms of a contradiction, but the two 
 hemispheres, or, if you prefer it, the two poles of the truth. 
 Revealed truth is human only because it is divine, it is 
 divine only on condition of its being human. We speak 
 here in the human point of view. We cannot place our- 
 selves in any other. It is certain that man bears in himself 
 the twofold necessity of being all for God and of being 
 entirely man. Nothing can withdraw him from the empire 
 of this twofold necessity. Nothing can even conceal it 
 absolutely from him. The religion which does not give all 
 to God does not answer the former of these internal laws of 
 
158 OF THE THEOLOGY OF THE 
 
 his being, and even thus it is not human. The religion 
 which tampers with his humanity withdraws him from God 
 while professing to restore him to God, and thus it is not 
 divine just because it is not human. Religion is a relation ; 
 the suppression of one of the two terms destroys it. No 
 matter which of the terms be suppressed ; either God 
 does not exist for man, or man does not exist for God. 
 Religion supposes God in the fulness of His Godhead, man 
 in the fulness of his manhood ; two beings, two persons, not 
 merely two names. 
 
 All the heresies that have sprung up in the bosom of 
 Christianity, as well as all the systems conceived outside of 
 Christianity, result in lessening man, or in lessening God. 
 The religion of the heart, the living faith, preserves an 
 admirable balance between these two excesses. Theology 
 has much difficulty not to incline towards the one or the 
 other. Why is this ? Because it rests always at some 
 distance from the summit of the angle, on one of the sides ; 
 whereas the living faith holds itself at the summit, whence 
 it commands the two sides or the two slopes of the truth, 
 without inclining towards either. Piety unites them, by an 
 indescribable process, of which it can render no better 
 account than we can of the union of thought and matter in 
 our existence, a union or reconciliation which life continu- 
 ally realises and exhibits. Theology or science distinguishes : 
 that is its work. But to distinguish is to separate by hypo- 
 thesis ; and by means of distinguishing, we forget to reunite. 
 Circumstances, moreover, impose law upon it. Now it 
 places itself at the service of the divine element which has 
 been compromised ; then it flies to the rescue of the human 
 element which has been threatened ; and it is engrossed in 
 
BOOK OF THE THOUGHTS. 1 59 
 
 the direction of the particular task which is imposed on it 
 by circumstances or the condition of men's minds. It 
 alternately lessens the divinity and the humanity either in 
 God and in man, or in Jesus Christ, who is fully both. 
 Theologians are rare who know how to guard themselves 
 from these two excesses ; and those who know how to do so 
 do not always pass, in the eyes of the vulgar, for true 
 theologians. 
 
 This strife takes very different names, which cannot in 
 any case conceal its identity from attentive eyes : predestina- 
 tion and liberty, doctrine and practice, the testimony of the 
 Word and that of the Spirit. It is, in a religious point of 
 view, the inexhaustible question in philosophy, of the sub- 
 jective and the objective, which are, after all, nought else 
 than God and man. Philosophy has not yet comprehended 
 that the incarnation of the Word is the final and the only 
 solution of the question which it puts. For the moment, it 
 is at suit before the impersonal reason. The Christian be- 
 lieves in the personal reason, and at the same time the 
 supreme, which is Jesus Christ. 
 
 To judge by appearances, theology has oftener had to do 
 with the tendency which seeks to lessen the Divinity than 
 with that which seeks to lessen the humanity. Excessive 
 on its part was the reaction, as the result of which the 
 supra-lapsarianism of Gomar was seen, with a surprised and 
 disconcerted air, to join hands with the quietism of Madame 
 Guyon. After these worse than fruitless strifes between 
 pure intellects, it was time that there should come a man. 
 The glory of Pascal is to have been a man in theology; 
 the glory of having been an honest man in polemics and in 
 literature is only a diminutive of this. He was not a doctor, 
 
160 OF THE THEOLOGY OF THE 
 
 but a man, who could bring into theology the doctrine of 
 the two contraries ; — a doctrine full of mystery and of light, 
 which is reducible to this proposition ; that life, that all life, 
 is the combination of two elements opposed and even contra- 
 dictory to our weakness, and that, apart from this combina- 
 tion, life or substantial truth escapes us absolutely.* This 
 man, treating theology as a man, was Pascal. The comple- 
 ment of his doctrine was soon apparent. He comprehended, 
 he explained that it was not in the head, but in the heart of 
 man, that the belligerent parties could meet to treat of 
 peace ; and he inaugurated, or rather he drew from the 
 Gospel, and laid before us under the form which was proper 
 to his genius and suitable to his time, that beautiful doctrine 
 of the knowledge and the comprehension of divine truths by 
 the heart, which is the dominant thought and the key of his 
 apologetics. 
 
 The heart! the intuition, the internal consciousness of 
 religious truth laid hold upon immediately as first prin- 
 ciples are ! A bold and sublime proposition, which one 
 much greater than Pascal had professed before him — " Be- 
 lieve My word, or else believe the works which I do." 
 Truth has its titles in itself; it is its own proof to itself; it 
 demonstrates itself by showing itself. And the heart is the 
 mirror of the truth. But this mirror, badly placed, does 
 not reflect the light, until a Divine hand has turned it to- 
 wards the sun. The heart requires to be inclined; that in 
 us which receives the truth, that in us which knows, be- 
 lieves, and loves, is not the heart such as it is, it is the heart 
 inclined, and in the first instance the heart humbled, the 
 heart "offering itself by humiliation to inspiration," as 
 * See Appendix, Note T. 
 
BOOK OF THE THOUGHTS. 161 
 
 Pascal himself expresses it. Pascal here announces the 
 advent, proclaims the authority, measures the empire, of 
 the Holy Spirit ; Christianity considered as existing in man 
 is the testimony, the reign of the Holy Spirit. The divine 
 and the human meet here in a glorious and ineffable 
 unity. 
 
 In proclaiming the all-sufficiency of the heart in the matter 
 of faith and salvation, Pascal set out, I admit, if not from the 
 same point, at least from the same shores, as the advocates 
 of authority. We have seen him argue, against infidels, on 
 the incapacity, not absolute, but relative, of human reason. 
 But while from this incapacity, relative or absolute, those 
 men infer the authority of a body, Pascal infers that of the 
 internal evidence, or of the intuition supplied by the Holy 
 Spirit. In other words, he sends us from our natural reason 
 to the testimony of our heart, enlightened by the Holy 
 Spirit. There is always an authority, that of the written 
 Word or the Book of God, which is to the Spirit of God 
 what substance is to quality or organism to life. But 
 whatever utility may attach, in a general interest, to what 
 science proves, after its own manner, the authority of the 
 book, it is sufficient that the book exists, it is sufficient that a 
 meeting has been brought about between the truth and the 
 heart of man. And observe, that what is peculiar to the 
 author of the Thoughts is not to have said that such a 
 meeting must take place ; for every one who does not preach 
 under the name of faith a voluntary nullification or suicide 
 of the mind and the heart, every one who wishes to find in 
 faith that " agreement of himself with himself," which Pascal 
 has made one of the characteristics of faith, will be at one 
 with him on this point. What distinguishes him from those 
 
 o 
 
162 OF THE THEOLOGY OF THE 
 
 who have confessed that we must end with this, is to have 
 maintained that we can begin with this, and that this act, 
 by itself alone, constitutes saving faith. Between Pascal 
 and Lamennais the difference is capital, immense. We do 
 do not as yet say (that will come afterwards) that Pascal 
 has not, like Lamennais, planted the roots of his demonstra- 
 tion in the territory of Pyrrhonism. With him faith is not 
 a conclusion from absolute doubt ; he knew too well that 
 from absolute doubt nothing can be concluded. He has 
 only proposed to establish the inability of reason and of 
 nature in the matter of religion ; but instead of referring 
 us, like Lamennais, to the Church, he refers us to the 
 Holy Spirit. There are two ways, in fact, of conceiving 
 of Christianity : either as the kingdom of the visible au- 
 thority, or as the kingdom of the Holy Spirit. The first of 
 these systems does not, it is true, exclude the Holy Spirit ; 
 but it fetters Him, or does not permit Him "to blow 
 where He listeth." The second restores Him to possession 
 of His liberty, sovereign and all divine. The first, in some 
 sort, monopolises Him; the second makes His divine in- 
 fluences the heritage and the blessing of all. The first says, 
 " The Church is taught of God, believe what she believes." 
 The second says, " Ye are all taught of God." In the first 
 system, the Church is an authority ; in the second, a help. 
 
 In the judgment of some persons, all this is rationalism ; 
 in that of others, it is pure mysticism. To our thinking, 
 it is simply the Gospel; but, to place ourselves in the point 
 of view and speak the language of accusation, we shall say, 
 without thinking that it is any abuse of words, that it is 
 spiritualism. The Gospel cannot but be spiritualistic. It is 
 the Gospel only on this condition. Every other strips it of 
 
BOOK OF THE THOUGHTS. 1 63 
 
 this character; for every other denies in principle, what 
 Jesus Christ has established at so great cost, the immediate 
 relations of man with God, the glorious liberty of the chil- 
 dren of God, or, to speak a less elevated language, religious 
 individuality. 
 
 It is with the soul engaged in the life of religion, or that 
 of thought, as with the ship launched on the waves, and 
 seeking, across the ocean, the shores of a new world. This 
 ocean is society, religious or civil. It bears us as the ocean, 
 — a fluid mass on which the ship traces furrows at its plea- 
 sure, but nowhere takes the ground. The ocean carries the 
 ship ; but the ocean may overwhelm it, and does sometimes 
 overwhelm it. Society overwhelms us much oftener ; but, 
 in short, it carries us, and we cannot arrive without being 
 carried by it ; for it is like the ocean, which, less fluid than 
 the air, and less solid than the earth, yields to us just 
 enough, and resists us just enough, to sustain without 
 shackling our march towards the truth. Our destination is 
 not the bottom of the abyss, it is the shore of the ocean. 
 While ploughing these deep waters, let us beware lest we 
 sink in their depths. It is enough to yield up to the element 
 which supports us the keel of our ship. We may founder 
 on the ocean of society as on the ocean of the globe ; and it 
 is needless to say on which of the two oceans shipwrecks are 
 more frequent. The vessel which each one of us is charged 
 to steer and to save is individuality, or moral liberty. It is 
 not saved, in the religious point of view, but by the system 
 of the pure Gospel. 
 
 The doctrine of Pascal respecting the faith of the heart, 
 or, more properly, respecting faith by the Holy Spirit, has a 
 bearing and consequences which Pascal himself could not 
 
1 64 OF THE THEOLOGY OF THE 
 
 have estimated. In order to get an idea of it, let us for a 
 moment place ourselves in the point of view of the system 
 of visible authority, or church authority. 
 
 Before this authority can be imposed upon us, it must be 
 legitimised. Before it can judge, it must submit to be 
 judged. By and by it will tell us what we are to believe ; 
 but it will not do to begin by telling us to believe in itself. 
 It is to be all; but, before being all, it is nothing. The first 
 thing is to recognise it. It produces its titles, we examine 
 them ; its powers, we verify them. Who is it that examines ? 
 Who is it that verifies I Without any doubt, individuals ; 
 for the body, or the community which they are to constitute, 
 does not yet exist ; and individuals, in this preliminary in- 
 quiry, cannot appoint delegates. Individuality has not as 
 yet any right to abdicate. The acceptance of any authority 
 is necessarily an act of liberty. 
 
 This being so, I entreat you to endeavour to form an idea 
 of the task imposed on the individual. We may distinguish 
 two cases. Either an individual believes beforehand, in a 
 general way, in the truth of Christianity ; or he does not 
 yet believe, and approaches the question only with the 
 simple want, and perhaps the desire, to believe. In the 
 former case, he will go from Christianity to the Church ; in 
 the latter, from the Church to Christianity. But in both 
 cases, he must come to the Church, to the visible authority; 
 and this authority he must prove to himself. In both cases 
 the task is immense. Exegesis, history, metaphysics, all 
 must be moved, all must be searched to the bottom. This 
 must be done with the instruments of a learned dialectics 
 and a rigorous criticism. How many persons are capable 
 of this I know not ; but what I do know, and what all the 
 
BOOK OF THE THOUGHTS. 165 
 
 world will admit, is that it is a very weak and insignificant 
 minority. But, in short, the task of which this minority 
 alone is capable, is imposed upon all, and no one can per- 
 form it by proxy. If ever authority be necessary, desirable, 
 it is at the very moment when authority does not as yet 
 exist. What then, all ye simple and ignorant ones, will ye 
 put in the place of the knowledge which ye do not possess, the 
 time even which is not at your command, and the authority 
 which, of necessity, withdraws itself and refuses you its sup- 
 port ? The heart, you will doubtless say ; but as the heart 
 is not an authority until the Holy Spirit incline it, it will be 
 the heart inclined by the Holy Spirit, it will be the Holy 
 Spirit Himself, or, which is the same thing, the truth speak- 
 ing directly to the heart ; and you will not, you cannot, 
 believe that the Holy Spirit refuses Himself for your neces- 
 sities, aided by your prayers. Thus you are out of pain, 
 and I congratulate you ; for you could not have escaped from 
 it otherwise. 
 
 But if the Holy Spirit, or the truth even, has been able 
 to speak directly to your heart, if you acknowledge at least 
 that it can do so, the consequence is sufficiently clear. What 
 it can do once, it can do always. What it can do on one 
 point, it can do on others. Its power is not limited ; why 
 should its willingness be limited? This will strike those 
 especially, who, before they know if there be any authority, 
 or where that authority is, have been so taught of God, 
 that they have already that living faith which is properly an 
 internal view of the truths of salvation, a communion of the 
 heart with the truth, a life rather than a view. To them, 
 what is the use of intermediaries ? And how shall they 
 doubt, after having seen (if I may thus express myself) the 
 
166 OF THE THEOLOGY OF THE 
 
 truth manage its business so admirably itself, that it can 
 manage them for the future and always ? 
 
 The differences, not only between men in general, but 
 between the persons whom they have reason to believe 
 placed, like themselves, under the teaching of the Spirit of 
 God, w r ill not be to them an occasion for doubt, or give them 
 a distaste for evangelical liberty. These differences, which 
 are accounted for by human weakness and external circum- 
 stances, cannot deprive them of the conviction of the essential 
 and deep-seated unity which prevails among all those who 
 are under the guidance of the same Spirit of God ; and they 
 recall those precious words of an apostle: "If you are other- 
 wise-minded than we, God will make known to you the 
 truth. Meantime, let us follow the same rule in the things 
 to the knowledge of which we have attained, and let us be 
 united together." (Phil. hi. 15, 16.) And with the same 
 eye which enables them to see so much unity in these 
 diversities, they discover diversity in that unity which is set 
 before them as an object of envy. They know at what price 
 this phantom of unity has been obtained, and they judge 
 that if life cannot be purchased at too high a price, any 
 price must be too high that is paid for death. 
 
 We are, as yet, but at the preliminaries of the theology of 
 Pascal. It would be very interesting to trace in this theo- 
 logy the same character of humanity which struck us at the 
 outset. I shall content myself, gentlemen, with having 
 pointed it out to your attention, and recommended it to your 
 study. You will not fail to remark to what extent the 
 theology of Pascal is original ; I mean, to what point it 
 belongs to himself. I wish not to exaggerate. I have 
 already admitted elsewhere that, despite his strong individu- 
 
BOOK OF THE THOUGHTS. 1G7 
 
 ality, Pascal was affected by the influence of his age. His 
 tendency to scepticism is not at all explained by his charac- 
 ter, and is but half explained by the nature of his favourite 
 studies. His reading, and the general tendency of the 
 period, also go some way towards the explanation. His 
 doctrinal system also does not belong to him in an absolute 
 sense. He did not construct it, deliberately and alone, the 
 Bible in his hand. He finds established a general tradition, 
 and within that a more particular tradition. He is born to 
 the Christian faith, or, more properly speaking, to the 
 Christian life, in a medium which we may call Jansenist 
 Catholicism ; and this tradition impresses upon him what 
 tradition impresses on the most independent, namely, form. 
 Under this form he becomes, under this form he will remain, 
 a Christian. He is born in the Romish sect, and in a sect 
 of that sect, Jansenism ; and there will he die. We are all 
 sectaries : and what is most important is not that we should 
 not be such, but that we should spiritually rule the sect of 
 which we form a part, and make the foundation prevail over 
 the form. We scarcely attain this but by means of some 
 inconsistency, or, to use a stronger term, some gross contra- 
 diction ; for every sect contains some element of error, and 
 we only subdue error by means of truth. Such is our destiny 
 throughout. It is the fable of Deucalion always. You see 
 human bodies fixed in the ground by one of their extremities. 
 What is of consequence is, that the head be above-ground. 
 I have no desire to eulogise sects. But, in short, in our 
 actual infirmity, the form or the sect is to truth w r hat our 
 flesh, heavy and corruptible, is to the spirit which dwells 
 with it, — dust, which must return to the dust whence it was 
 taken, while the spirit shall return to the God who gave it, 
 
168 OF THE THEOLOGY OF THE 
 
 and who, in a new and better economy, prepares for it a new 
 and better body. 
 
 Pascal was a sectary, as we all are ; but, without with- 
 drawing from the sect to which he may be said to have 
 belonged, he surpassed it. The substance, with him, pre- 
 vailed over the form, the spirit ruled the body. Will you 
 permit me to say that it was so, in some degree, with all those 
 who, sharing the same particular views with him, were 
 united by the heart to the living principle of truth ? They 
 all, in this, surpassed themselves, and were only attached to 
 their sect by the inferior parts of their spirits. But for in- 
 dependence, ingenuousness of thought, no one of them can 
 be compared with Pascal ; whether it be that he enunciates 
 views which his friends would have disavowed, and which 
 they did in fact disavow more than once by suppressing 
 them ; or that he enriched their theology by bold and new 
 points of view ; or, lastly, that he strikes afresh their pecu- 
 liar ideas with the deep die of his genius, and still more 
 that of his soul. 
 
 To bring together, to fuse into one another theology and 
 religion, speculation and feeling, is what, perhaps, most 
 markedly characterises Pascal in the positive part of his 
 demonstration. Also, this Apology is quite full of the apolo- 
 gist, I mean, of his impressions ; for the book is neither selfish 
 nor egotistical in the slightest degree. Pascal could not have 
 said, at least he would not have said in the same sense as 
 Montaigne : " I have taken myself for my argument and 
 my object ; I have no more made my book than my book 
 has made me, a book consubstantial with its author, a por- 
 tion of my life." Nothing could have more repelled Pascal 
 than what displeased him most in Montaigne, the abundance 
 
BOOK OF THE THOUGHTS. 169 
 
 of personal details and domestic confidences. Whether from 
 pride or from humility, Pascal never spoke of himself. His 
 book is subjective rather than personal. It is not abstract 
 truth that he sets before us, but truth concocted in a human 
 heart; truth completed, realised by its moral effects; truth in 
 that incarnation, of which the incarnation of the Word was 
 the pledge and the foundation. Here it might be truly 
 said : The voice is not entire but in the echo. It would be 
 going much too far to assert that all theology, all apolo- 
 getics, are a drama or a confession ; but how much is it to 
 be regretted that it is not even so ! Is a writer sufficiently 
 instructive, sufficiently clear, when he is not touching? 
 And how much more touching is a person than an idea, be 
 that idea as touching as it may ! 
 
 This character of personality, but of a personality wholly 
 spiritual, is recognised and felt in every page of the book. 
 Everywhere it marks it in a more or less lively manner ; 
 but sometimes emotion mingles with the thought to such an 
 extent as to turn it from its course, and to make us conclude 
 that several of these movements would have been suppressed 
 in a conclusive revision. The following is a sufficiently 
 remarkable example : 
 
 " I find, in point of fact, that, as far as the memory of man 
 extends, it has been constantly announced to men that they 
 are in a state of corruption, but that a regenerator is to come. 
 
 " That it is not one man who says this, but a multitude of 
 men, and a whole people, during four thousand years, pro- 
 phesying and constituted expressly for this purpose. These 
 books dispersed for four hundred years. 
 
 " Thus I stretch my arms towards my Deliverer, who, hav- 
 ing been foretold during four thousand years, came to suffer 
 
170 OF THE THEOLOGY OF THE 
 
 and die for me upon the earth, at the time and in all the 
 circumstances which had been predicted for Him ; and by 
 His grace I look for death in peace, in the hope of being for 
 ever united to Him ; yet I live with joy, whether in the 
 good which it pleases Him to give me, or in the evils which 
 He sends me for my good, and which He has taught me to 
 suffer by His example." (II. 197.) 
 
 " I love poverty, because Jesus Christ loved it. I love 
 wealth, because it gives me the means of succouring the 
 wretched. I keep faith with all men. I return not evil to 
 those who do me wrong; but I desire for them a condition 
 like to my own, in which they might not receive either evil 
 or good from men. I endeavour to be just, truthful, sincere, 
 and faithful to all men ; and I have tenderness of heart for 
 those whom God has united to me more closely; and whether 
 I be alone or in the sight of men, I have in all my doings 
 regard to God, who is to judge them, and to whom I have 
 consecrated them all. 
 
 " Such are my feelings ; and every day of my life I bless 
 my Redeemer, who has inspired me with them, and who, 
 from a man full of weakness, misery, lust, pride, and ambi- 
 tion, has made me a man exempt from all these evils by the 
 power of His grace, to which all the glory is due, as of myself 
 I have nought but misery and error." (I. 243.) 
 
 It is almost unnecessary to quote the w T ell-known dia- 
 logue which closes with these words : — 
 
 u This discourse transports me, ravishes me. 
 
 " — If this discourse pleases you, and seems to you to 
 be strong, know that it is made by a man who knelt, before 
 and after it, to pray to this Being, infinite and without parts, 
 to whom he submits all that is his, that he would submit 
 
BOOK OF THE THOUGHTS. 171 
 
 also to Himself all that is yours, for your good and His glory, 
 and that thus its force is in proportion to humility." (II. 169.) 
 It was perhaps in order to provide a freer course for these 
 outflowings of an impressed heart, not less than for the pur- 
 pose of being more dramatic and more agreeable, that Pascal, 
 who had succeeded so well in tho employment of the episto- 
 lary style in his quarrel with the Jesuits, had resolved, as his 
 manuscripts show, to put his Apology into the form of a 
 correspondence. 
 
 This Book of Theology is, then, what books of theology 
 are not always, a book of piety, and almost an ascetic work. 
 But it is, notwithstanding, in the true sense of the word, a book 
 of theology. Shall I attempt to say what theology it teaches ? 
 Jansenist in its foundation, it has taken from the Jansenist 
 doctrine the flower, or, if you please, the purest wheat. In 
 it the sovereign grace of God is continually adored, and 
 above all blessed ; and never perhaps was homage rendered 
 to it, for which human liberty had less cause to lament or to 
 be alarmed. There is a mystery of election, since there are 
 elect ones. But Jesus Christ died for all men ; all men 
 have been redeemed. There is nothing in the matter that 
 is unfathomable but the love of God. This love has its sole 
 cause in itself; for, at the last day, the reprobate will find in 
 their reason the justification of the sentence which condemns 
 them, and the elect alone will be astonished at the decree 
 which beatifies them. Grace is not an isolated fact, but a 
 perpetual effusion, a circulation of life between the mem- 
 bers — that is to say, created spirits — and the Head, which 
 is God, the Father of spirits. In the spiritual sense, as m 
 the temporal sense, the creature is continually created. The 
 
172 OF THE THEOLOGY OF THE 
 
 name of this divine life is love. God communicates His love, 
 which is His life. As we become members of God, we become 
 members one of another, but voluntary members, and by an 
 act of will continually renewed. We are neither absorbed 
 in the Head, nor in the whole; for love is not less the 
 triumph of personality than the means and the consummation 
 of unity. Taught by the Gospel his misery and his great- 
 ness, man learns from the Gospel to love and to hate himself. 
 He derives also from the Gospel a hatred and a love of 
 death, which the natural man hates unjustly in one sense, 
 and does not love sufficiently in another. He learns equally, 
 without giving in to the impiety of dualism, to recognise in 
 nature the traces of a good and an evil principle. But the 
 second of these two principles is himself. He comprehends 
 that in nature all is not rigour and chastisement ; for we 
 should have been too strongly tempted to blasphemy ; but, 
 in the moral condition into which sin has plunged us, he 
 understands suffering better than pleasure ; and misfortune 
 appears to him the natural state of sinful man. 
 
 This theology has been reproached as too sad. It is true 
 that the portrait of man, and the picture of his condition, are 
 not flattering in the book of the Thoughts, Is it natural 
 melancholy? Is it Jansenism? We care little what may be 
 thought of it. What is evident to us, and what appears to us 
 very difficult to deny, is that St Paul, St John, and their 
 Master before them, have not spoken of man or of human 
 destiny in more favourable terms than Pascal has done in 
 his Thoughts. This requires neither development nor 
 proofs. If any one maintains that the Gospel is not pessi- 
 mist, we refrain from answering him, and permit him to 
 make such use of our silence as he may. We remark only 
 
BOOK OF THE THOUGHTS. 173 
 
 that man is pessimist, if Christianity he not, Man does not 
 dislike to be told of the unhappiness of his lot. In detail, 
 and from hour to hour, we are all pessimists, and it would 
 be difficult to catch in the fact of contentment. Madame 
 de la Valliere, in her cloistral solitude, said to her visitors, 
 "I am not joyful, but I am contented." We are not at 
 bottom, and ordinarily, either joyful or contented. In theory, 
 and taking account of the universe, we find that all goes 
 not amiss ; and pessimists in fact, we are indignant against 
 pessimists. The doctrine of optimism has its zealous de- 
 fenders, and with good reason, in a certain sense. Pascal 
 himself was an optimist in the sense to which we allude. 
 He believed, as we do, in perfectibility, in progress ; but the 
 happiness in which he had faith, as w r e have, was in his eyes 
 a superficial, relative happiness; and he believed, on the 
 other hand, in a profound, radical, universal misery of 
 human nature, — a misery of which the impalpable and im- 
 material portion is, in his eyes, the true miser)- . The grief ot 
 Pascal is wholly intellectual and moral. The disorders and 
 the calamities of this world above all afflict his thought. They 
 are to him a stumbling-block, rather than a subject for com- 
 plaint. I do not refer you to those singular pages on Amuse- 
 mini, and on Deceptive Influences^ which the sublime and the 
 grotesque elbow each other ; I w r ould only have you pay at- 
 tention to the magnificent and celebrated piece on the dis- 
 proportion of man. There, the misfortune of man is not to 
 know or to find his place, to feel himself at once nothing 
 with respect to the infinite, and infinite with respect to 
 nothingness. The infinite and nothingness, — these two in- 
 finites, — oppress his thought; and he walks between these two 
 abysses with his eyes shut, choosing rather to be blind than 
 
174 OF THE THEOLOGY OF THE 
 
 to be dazzled. In the infinite is the reason and the sense 
 of the finite, and the infinite is inaccessible to us. We know 
 nothing absolutely ; and that is to know nothing ; and all 
 our knowledge is but a " learned ignorance," which consists, 
 according to the statement of the ancient philosopher, in 
 " knowing that we know nothing." If Pascal has proposed 
 to reckon this among the number of our misfortunes, there 
 is much reason to say, borrowing his bold language, 
 u Miseries of a great lord ! " This passage, of which the 
 intention is not very certain, is, besides, not at all necessary 
 to prove the wholly spiritualistic tendency of his thought, 
 and the elevated character of his pessimism. 
 
 But if the true religion is pessimist, pessimism is not the 
 whole of that religion; it ought to terminate in contentment, 
 and even in joy. This has been denied with respect to that 
 of Pascal. This denial would have more weight if those 
 who have made it could be supposed to know what is Chris- 
 tian joy, born of tears, and, even to the last, watered with 
 them. They are at the antipodes from Pascal, and see 
 another heaven, if indeed they see any heaven. Pascal 
 would not have disputed with them either about impressions 
 or tastes ; for these are not matters for dispute. He would 
 willingly have granted to them that Christian joy, which 
 does not exclude gaiety, is not absolutely gay ; that Christian 
 happiness, taken in its essence, is not without melancholy ; 
 and that, born in a sublime sadness, it loves to return to its 
 origin. All great Christian thinkers have deserved the 
 same reproach with Pascal. Those who have not deserved 
 it, may well be regarded as having diluted Christianity. 
 Jansenism is not the only cause at work here. The Jesuit 
 Bourdaloue, the Sulpician Fenelon, the oratorian Massillon, 
 
BOOK OF THE THOUGHTS. 175 
 
 and lastly Bossuet, the oracle of all, have received no other 
 lessons at the foot of the cross, and have given no other. 
 The dispute, therefore, is with all these great men, with all 
 the great Christian writers. Pascal, at need, might shelter 
 himself behind them, and we shelter ourselves behind 
 Pascal, 
 
 We are not obliged to vindicate ail the bitter or exclusive 
 words which may have escaped him. We adopt Pascal the 
 Christian, not the sectarian. All reform is exclusive, and 
 Jansenism was a reform. Moreover, it was not without 
 injury to him that he was a Catholic ; and the religion of the 
 Catholic oscillates continually between a subtle sensualism 
 and an extravagant asceticism. The Jansenist asceticism over- 
 bore all that is most primitive and most innocent in human 
 life. It denied, so far as possible, the family ; and Pascal, 
 on this point, is but too much a Jansenist. In this he is less 
 a man that he aimed at being, and wished that others 
 should be. M. Reuchlin remarks, with astonishment, that 
 the family is not even named in the book of the Thoughts. 
 Pascal blamed himself for his tenderness for his relatives, 
 forbade himself the smallest endearments with them, and 
 sought to substitute for them in his heart the great family 
 of the human race. He considered, all transient relations 
 as unworthy of the interest, and even of the regards, of the 
 Christian. This view, little evangelical, must have con- 
 firmed him in his indifference for civil society ; but this 
 indifference originated in a scepticism which study would 
 perhaps have cured, Pascal's disdain for history and for 
 books, bears, in this respect, some bitter fruits. In the school 
 of his friend Domat, he would have learned, I am fond of be- 
 lieving, that there is a social truth, and that this truth, of which 
 
176 THE THEQLOGT OF THE BOOK OF THOUGHTS. 
 
 he has acknowledged the existence in the fourteenth Provin- 
 cial, is being painfully but continually disengaged from the 
 chaos in which our passions have buried it, and gains ground 
 insensibly in progressive societies. The first link will always 
 fail, and therefore the chain drags on the earth. We can- 
 not with surety set out but from God ; and we set out from 
 ourselves, w T hether it be that we proclaim, instead of the 
 divine right of the eternal reason, the divine right of chance 
 or the divine right of number. But because God has not 
 completely abandoned us, and because necessity has secret 
 relations with truth, — the truth, which, in social matters, is 
 honesty, justice, and liberty, — the truth, from which indivi- 
 duals can but too easily disenthral themselves, — subjects 
 society by slow degrees to its Divine laws, which, moreover, 
 the Gospel has published with entirely new authority. By 
 reason of despising the social institution, by reason of ad- 
 miring the good sense of the people, which makes up for 
 the w r ant of good sense in the institutions and the laws, 
 Pascal plays the game of the anarchists, for whom he pro- 
 fesses the most decided hatred. Faith in social progress is 
 a guarantee of order no less than of progress. What is 
 called political atheism is, in its sphere, doubtless a much 
 lower one, w T hat religious atheism is in another sphere. 
 
ON THE PYRRHONISM OF PASCAL. 177 
 
 VI. 
 
 ON THE PYRRHONISM OF PASCAL, AND ON HIS 
 PERSONAL RELIGION. 
 
 The Pyrrhonism of Pascal, or at least what people have 
 been pleased to call so, has been the subject of many attacks. 
 If we understand Pyrrhonism in its strict sense, as a denial 
 of first principles (and it is thus that Pascal defines it), Pas- 
 cal was not a Pyrrhonist; for he has defended, in opposition 
 to this sect, the existence of first principles. But it must 
 be admitted that it was not till after he had been so identi- 
 fied with the principal arguments of Pyrrhonism, that it 
 might well have been believed that Pascal was a partisan of 
 this sect, that, notwithstanding, he calls it extravagant It 
 must be admitted further, that, in the chapter on justice, he 
 speaks at one time the language of Pyrrhonism (and this 
 time without retracting it), when he asks if our natural 
 principles respecting justice are aught else than our accus- 
 tomed principles, and if nature be not simply a first custom. 
 It may be supposed, indeed, that the principles of which 
 he speaks are not the first notions of right and wrong, but 
 those secondary rules, which certainly vary from one country 
 to another. But the distinction is not expressed, and ad- 
 vantage may be taken of this silence. For my part, I think 
 that, preoccupied with the desire of humbling reason, Pascal 
 has not introduced into this first sketch of a work, of which 
 perhaps nothing would have been preserved, all the exact- 
 
1 78 ON THE PYRRHONISM OF PASCAL, 
 
 ness and niceties of expression which this matter, more than 
 any other, required. He has not always measured his 
 strokes ; and the long acquaintance which he had with 
 Montaigne, whom he incessantly quotes and transcribes, had 
 given his mind a bent which he did not always resist. The 
 period turned towards Pyrrhonism ; and perhaps it has not 
 been sufficiently noted that the work of Descartes was a re- 
 action of methodical doubt against the irregular and un- 
 bridled doubt with which the books of the period were filled. 
 That Pascal may have contracted, in the cultivation of the 
 exact sciences and of the sciences of observation, a habit of 
 strictness which made him less sensible to demonstrations of 
 another order — in other words, that geometry may have 
 disposed him to scepticism — it is easy to conceive. Then it 
 was a pretty general idea among Christian philosophers, 
 that Pyrrhonism was useful to religion. Pascal himself 
 has said in this sense, it is true, that a great good may come 
 out of a great evil. But, in short, it was an error even to be- 
 lieve so great an error to be profitable to the truth; and, in one 
 way or other, Pascal appears to me to have fallen into it. 
 
 Others, less great than he no doubt, have fallen into it in 
 our days. But Pascal, if he erred, erred only respecting 
 the fact, and they have erred respecting the right. They 
 have done more than believe in the relative utility of 
 Pyrrhonism ; they have loftily professed it, and have pro- 
 posed to give for a foundation to the Christian faith the 
 moving sand of absolute doubt. From absolute doubt they 
 have proposed to come to the conclusion of absolute dogma- 
 tism; on which subject I shall state all that I think in a few 
 words. In like manner as "I shun a brazen-faced man 
 w T ho preaches modesty," I hate, " as the gates of hell," the 
 
AND ON HIS PERSONAL RELIGION. 179 
 
 Pyrrhonism which dogmatises. The conclusion that it 
 permits itself to reach, whatever it may be, is exorbitant, 
 monstrous ; for it is a conclusion. Its faith is, at the best, 
 but a stroke of despair, an accident, a catastrophe. Between 
 Pyrrhonism and faith, there is a whole infinity. It is a 
 strange rashness to begin by breaking all the steps of the 
 ladder by which we propose to climb ; it is a strange inso- 
 lence to attempt to prove anything whatever after having 
 annihilated all the elements of proof. The modern Pyr- 
 rhonists, dogmatists in the bottom of their hearts, have in- 
 vented and kept in reserve an element of certainty, one 
 only, universal consent. But even this element they have 
 not been able to obtain but by making use of all the others, 
 and consequently by supposing them all. I have no occa- 
 sion, after this, to inquire with what success they have 
 established universal consent with respect to any point. I 
 do not inquire if their system, invented as they tell us for 
 the benefit of Christianity, do not give the lie to that reli- 
 gion, making truth the secret of the few, and for all others 
 an absurdity. I ask not, lastly, if the doctrine of universal 
 consent is not the most murderous, though the most indirect, 
 attack on the dignity of man, the holiness of God, and even 
 on morality. Enceladus, crushed under his smoking moun- 
 tain, tells more of it than I can tell. Pyrrhonism is self- 
 condemned. 
 
 M. Keuchlin has said that Pascal, climbing on the 
 shoulders of Montaimie in order to assail with greater 
 effect the enemies of religion, is a striking proof of the 
 support that the faith may find from its natural enemies, 
 incredulity and scepticism ; and he compares them to those 
 demons which, in the architecture of the middle ages, sup- 
 
180 ON THE PYRRHONISM OF PASCAL, 
 
 port, so to speak, the bold spring of the vault of the temple 
 towards another vault, which is heaven. All w T ell for the 
 stone demons ; but Pascal would not knowingly have called 
 any of the supports of falsehood to the aid of truth. Even 
 while admitting that Pyrrhonism had been advantageous to 
 religion, he disavowed it. A Pyrrhonist was, in his opinion, 
 an extravagant person. But how could he have avoided 
 showing us into wdiat dangers we are throw r n, or in what 
 dangers we are left, by logic, " that blind thing," as a cele- 
 brated writer lately called it, whose two eyes are put out 
 when the soul and immediate intuition do not concur with 
 it ? It is to this immediate intuition, as to certain infor- 
 mation, that Pascal sends us, in the paragraph on the heart, 
 which I read to you the day before yesterday, and which I 
 took upon me to call Pascal's last word on the subject.* It 
 is so in fact, and how could it be otherwise ? It is evidently 
 an answ r er to the Pyrrhonist arguments that are spread over 
 the book of the Tlwughts. It is intentionally so, it is 
 evident ; and no one will believe, on the other hand, that it 
 is an objection against Pyrrhonism, to which the Pyrrhonist 
 ideas spread over the book are to serve as "an answer. I 
 say even, that in whatever place Pascal may have put it, 
 before or after the Pyrrhonist arguments, the tenor of this 
 paragraph shows its intention. It is an answer, and a con- 
 clusive answer. I have not now to prove that the answer 
 is good. I think it excellent. But people will judge of it 
 according to their lights. It is sufficient for me that it is 
 an answer, and that, by this answer, Pascal considers that 
 he has saved first principles, that is to say, the first elements 
 upon which thought operates. This includes all, gentlemen; 
 
 * See pp. 133, 134. 
 
AND ON HIS PERSONAL RELIGION. 181 
 
 for as to reasoning or logic, Pascal believes in it. A 
 thousand and a thousand passages attest it. Those that I 
 have quoted would suffice. One would suffice, that, namely, 
 in which Pascal makes the dignity of man consist in 
 thought, which is nought else than the means or organ of 
 knowledge. But, at the same time, it is very true that 
 Pascal made a rude onslaught on human reason ; that he 
 taxes it with impotence, since it does not know what would 
 most import it to know, and with insolence, since it pretends 
 to know and comprehend everything. This impotence 
 afflicts, this insolence irritates him ; and in the liveliness of 
 his feelings he is carried on to exaggerate his own thought, 
 and glides more than once towards Pyrrhonism. This kind 
 of vehemence of thought is sufficiently marked, and gives 
 us a presentiment of the possibility of some extravagances 
 in the following passage : — 
 
 " Reason is sufficiently reasonable to confess that she has 
 not yet been able to find anything solid ; but she does not 
 despair of yet attaining to it. On the contrary, she is as 
 ardent as ever in this research, and supposes that she has in 
 herself the powers necessary for this conquest. We must 
 then have done with he?'; and after having examined her 
 powers in their effects, let us judge what they are in them- 
 selves : let us see if she has any powers and any resources 
 capable of laying hold of truth." (II. 125.) 
 
 We do not perceive here a man restraining himself, but 
 rather a man warming in the struggle. Pascal has thrown 
 all his fire into those fragments, where, it cannot be too 
 often repeated, he is still rather searching for his thought 
 than enunciating it. He went to excess in the direction of 
 the objections which may be made to human reason. All, 
 
182 ON THE PYRRHONISM OF PASCAL, 
 
 for some moments, was good for him, provided he could 
 bring reason to his feet. Hence in his book there are 
 dangerous assertions, contradictions. But though he had 
 been, which we do not admit, stronger in wdiat he alleges in 
 favour of Pyrrhonism than in what he alleges against this 
 sect, we say, nevertheless, that personally he is no Pyr- 
 rhonist. However badly he has defended his cause, it is; 
 clearly seen that his cause is not Pyrrhonism. I beg you to 
 observe, gentlemen, that this is the important, the capital 
 point ; since, however badly Pascal may have defended 
 dogmatism, if he is a dogmatist, that is sufficient to exclude 
 absolutely the idea that Pyrrhonism threw him into religion, 
 and that his conversion was, as some have thought, only the 
 shipwreck of his reason. 
 
 There is one thing which is too much forgotten. It is, 
 that faith in the Gospel implies little faith in the teachings 
 of pure reason. The Gospel is not given as a brighter light 
 added to our natural lights, but as a torch which comes to 
 dissipate our darkness, and as the day taking the place oi 
 the night. It not only presupposes, but declares, that all 
 men were wandered, and that none of them had understand- 
 ing, not even one. No one believes in the Gospel without 
 believing that before the Gospel humanity was in darkness, 
 and in darkness all the more dangerous that it was, at 
 distances, streaked with gleams of light which encouraged 
 man to go abroad, whereas a deeper and more impenetrable 
 darkness would have constrained him to remain at home, and 
 would have kept him far from the abysses. It is a remark- 
 able fact, and ought not to be omitted, that the Gospel, by 
 its light, exercises a retrospective influence on the past 
 darkness. It renders it visible to us. The man who, before 
 
AND ON HIS PERSONAL RELIGION. 183 
 
 being a Christian, believed himself sure of many things, 
 learns thenceforth what was the value of this assurance, in 
 some sort gratuitous and anticipative. He becomes sceptical 
 afterhand, not in the present, but in the past. There are, 
 as it were, arrears of scepticism to pay. The matter is not 
 about the question of more or less. Christianity finds us or 
 makes us sceptical with respect to many things. The 
 question is, What are these things % What is not one of 
 them is, that the Christian faith no more leads to Pyrrhonism 
 than it can set out from it. Repeating ourselves in these 
 terms, we shall say a thing which will appear singular 
 only at the first instant. It is said that scepticism made 
 Pascal a Christian ; it would perhaps be more correct to 
 say that Christianity rendered him sceptical. 
 
 But Pascal, it is said, doubted of the existence of God. 
 He has said that, according to the lights of nature, we 
 cannot certainly know either what God is, or whether He 
 is. A fortiori he doubted of the immortality of the soul, 
 which has no solid support but in the belief of a God. 
 
 We must begin here by setting aside the question of 
 Pyrrhonism. Whatever idea we may form of scepticism in 
 this matter, or even of atheism, an atheist, so far as he is 
 an atheist, is not a Pyrrhonist. He is much worse, you 
 will say. Or you will say, that when one has attained 
 to be an atheist, he may just as well take another step 
 in advance and plunge into absolute Pyrrhonism. I 
 do not think so ; but I make the supposition. It is 
 enough for me, in this matter, to have put Pyrrhonism out 
 of court. 
 
 I do not mean to examine more closely whether Pascal 
 was really sceptical with respect to the existence of God. 
 
184 OX THE PYRRHONISM OF PASCAL, 
 
 If you wished absolutely to know what I think on the sub- 
 ject, I should say that I believe that Pascal, apart from the 
 lights of Christianity, believed in the existence of a God, 
 and in the body of doctrines which constitute what is called 
 natural religion. But I cannot give you strict proof of this ; 
 and what, on the other hand, is certain, is that he declares 
 that he did not find, either in nature or in metaphysics, 
 reasons sufficiently strong to convince hardened atheists. 
 Let us suppose the worst ; that Pascal was an atheist. 
 
 If he was, it was a misfortune. If he was, we may be 
 astonished at it. Still it is right here to make some obser- 
 vations, which, without serving as an excuse for so pro- 
 digious an error, explain its existence in the world. 
 
 To know that a thing is, without knowing what it is, is 
 very often to know nothing. Separated from its mode, 
 existence is but a word. And according to the mode which 
 is assigned to it, an existence is anything, or it is nothing. To 
 believe in the existence of God, without forming any idea 
 of the attributes of God, would be to believe in the word 
 God, rather than in the existence of God. To believe in 
 the existence of God, and not to believe in the personality, 
 the sovereignty, the righteousness of God, decidedly is not 
 to believe in God. To believe in the existence of God and 
 to doubt as to His essential attributes, is to doubt even as to 
 the existence of God. Lastly, to believe in God, but to 
 be incapable of deriving any practical consequence from the 
 belief, is, if you please, to believe in God, but it is to be 
 without God. On this ground, you will perhaps be obliged 
 to admit that belief in God, a firm, energetic, real belief, is 
 not quite so common as is supposed. 
 
 A second observation. We believe in the existence of 
 
AND ON HIS PERSONAL RELIGION. 185 
 
 God. We believe in it with a real, firm, energetic faith. 
 But who are we who believe in this sort, but the disciples, 
 voluntary or involuntary, of Christianity ? For Christianity 
 has disciples of both kinds. But what were the common 
 notions on this important subject before Christianity? 
 What are they now, apart from Christianity ? If we could 
 ourselves, for an instant, divest ourselves of the impressions 
 which we have received from Christianity, and shut out all 
 informations on this subject but those of nature and pure 
 reason, to what would our assurances be reduced ? What 
 w T ould be the strength or the clearness of our convictions 
 respecting natural religion ? Should we know more respect- 
 ing those matters than the philosophers of antiquity knew ? 
 And what did they know ? 
 
 A third observation. The truths of this order have been, 
 according to M. Cousin, admirably proved. By whom? 
 By men trained in the school of Christianity. But, be this 
 as it ma}r, they behoved to be proved. If their demonstra- 
 tions are admirable, that means, doubtless, that they have 
 put forth great power, which necessarily supposes a great 
 resistance. It was necessary then to prove these truths, and 
 to prove them at great expense of argument. What a 
 humiliation ! It has been requisite to prove to man, to man 
 the most learned, the best organised, that he is not self- 
 created ; and the will, the intelligence, the faculty of loving 
 which he finds in himself, attest the existence of a Supreme 
 intelligence, will, and love. When these things require 
 to be proved, are they ever well proved ? — I mean, are they 
 rendered evident, actual ? And however strong be the proof, 
 does it ever produce the effect of rendering the object pre- 
 sent, near, sensible to us ? And if it is not — I mean, if it 
 
 Q 
 
186 ON THE PYRRHONISM OF PASCAL, 
 
 does not put God into the heart — shall we not too easily find 
 in the fascinations of abstract dialectics (for dialectics, too, 
 have their fascinations) a thousand ways of escaping from 
 this truth, or, if you please, of divesting ourselves of it ? Is 
 logic never at issue with logic ? And can we surely foresee 
 a termination of the struggle, unless the good sense of the 
 heart interpose as arbitrator t And has the heart always 
 good sense ! Is not the heart often defective ? 
 
 Ponder all this well, ye who speak of the atheism of 
 Pascal. It was not what you suppose. This atheism was 
 nought else than a profound feeling of the insufficiency of 
 reason, without the aid of the heart, to procure for itself, by 
 itself, I do not say an abstract certainty of the existence of 
 a God, but the knowledge of God, the possession of God. 
 I say the possession, because, according to Pascal, we know 
 God only if we possess Him ; at all events, the knowledge 
 of God without the possession of God is useless and barren. 
 Though you had succeeded in convincing Pascal that man 
 is capable of a certain kind of knowledge of God, he would 
 have added: "What matters it? Apart from Jesus 
 Christ, this knowledge is illusory and vain. Paul said to 
 the Ephesians, with the temple of Diana and the statues 
 of a thousand divinities before him, Ye are without God. So 
 I say to humanity, so I say to the followers of natural re- 
 ligion ; for their god also is but an idol." That this excla- 
 mation should revolt those who believe in the sufficiency of 
 natural religion, is very simple. The only astonishing thing is, 
 that they believe in this sufficiency. But that it should offend 
 those who, like M. Cousin, profess to believe in Christianity, 
 that is what surpasses my comprehension. What is Christi- 
 anity, in this reckoning? Would they have the goodness 
 
AND ON HIS PERSONAL RELIGION. 187 
 
 to tell us ? Would they please to give us a reason for what 
 it contains that is tragical, and, I venture to say, violent ? 
 
 I am willing that, at present, no account be taken of the 
 preceding observations, and that Pascal be considered an 
 atheist. What is it proposed to conclude from this ? 
 
 That despair threw him into Christianity? Is it sup- 
 posed that we are to be much alarmed by this conclusion ? 
 What is the meaning of the word despair ? Nothing else 
 than a deep feeling of the insufficiency of atheism. Truly, 
 as atheism is represented to us, this despair is not astonish- 
 ing. But, is it meant to be concluded that, being ill at 
 ease in atheism, Pascal had no right to become a Christian, 
 and that a Christianity which took its root in the grief of 
 being an atheist is not a Christianity of a good sort ? The 
 conclusion would be strange. Every conversion from one 
 doctrine to another, whether in religion or even in philo- 
 sophy, would be in like manner irregular, null, and unal- 
 lowed by reason. 
 
 For, be pleased to consider that it is almost only in the 
 mathematical and observational sciences that the change 
 from one doctrine or another would be legitimate on these 
 terms, and even in these it would not always be so. M. 
 Schognbein did not, I suppose, find it any unhappiness to 
 believe till last year that azote is an element. This convic- 
 tion did not drive him to despair ; he did not sigh for the 
 moment of deliverance from it ; his heart and its ne- 
 cessities did not drive him to the doctrine according to 
 which azote itself is capable of decomposition. If we 'can 
 suppose a case in which a doctrine of this kind is desired 
 before it is proved, this depends upon circumstances foreign 
 to the subject, and is an exception. But this exception is 
 
188 ON THE PYRRHONISM OF PASCAL, 
 
 the rule, — the constant fact in religion, in politics, and, 
 more or less, in philosophy. All these things affect man 
 deeply, and touch him to the quick. It is not by his mind 
 only, but by his heart, that he aspires in these matters 
 to truth, to certainty. Opinions of this kind may render 
 him happy or unhappy. If he find himself unhappy, he 
 looks elsewhere. " With wandering eyes ... he sought for 
 light;" and too often it must be added, "and when 'twas 
 found, lamented." Atheism, you say, and we say too, is an 
 unfortunate doctrine, and the impression which certain souls 
 receive from it may be easily intensified into despair. They 
 desire that the truth should be different ; and it is on that 
 side that their looks and their studies turn. But you come 
 up, you, inflexible defender of scientific loyalty, and you 
 say, " Hold there ! a desired result is no result. There can 
 be no research, since the heart is a partisan. It is with 
 the reason alone that researches must be made. A perfect 
 disinterestedness, a supreme indifference, are the conditions 
 of strictness. When you are sufficiently indifferent, suffi- 
 ciently dry, sufficiently dead, you are able to examine. 
 Green wood gives smoke." 
 
 The consequence is sufficiently obvious. Whoever has 
 begun with despair, or at least with grief, is incapable of 
 examining, and has not even the right to examine. You 
 must have no desire, or you must remain where you are. 
 Jesus Christ knew less of the matter than these philosophers; 
 He who summoned His disciples around Him in the name 
 of happiness. The word blessed is the first that comes 
 from His mouth (Matt. v. 3). It should have been the 
 last. What is to be done, since, in short, it is impos- 
 sible to approach religious questions without the heart 
 
AND ON HIS PERSONAL RELIGION. 189 
 
 being interested in them? What is to be done, if we 
 cannot prove that a faithful examination may follow a lively 
 desire ? 
 
 Mark well. It is not the sufferings of the intellect that 
 cause us to be so ill at ease in atheism. The mere discon- 
 tent of the mind would not be sufficient to make us escape 
 from it. A little uncertainty or obscurity on a purely spe- 
 culative question, would not render minds of an ordinary 
 cast so impatient. And why do we weary of the flat hori- 
 zon of natural religion? It is not because it is flat, but 
 because it is barren. The want of nourishment is more 
 imperious than the want of the picturesque. A great num- 
 ber of men have put themselves on the road towards 
 Christianity, only because they were hungry, and as it w T ere 
 famished in deism ; and after having cropped it to the root, 
 hunger has made them cry after another pasture. They 
 have, you say, no right to seek other nourishment, because they 
 have desired it ; that is to say, that because they are hungry, 
 that is a reason why they should die of hunger. This rea- 
 soning is above our reach. We understand this other better: 
 Eat, since you are hungry, but do not eat poison. In other 
 words, you cannot prevent yourselves desiring, but we con- 
 jure you to examine. 
 
 Despair alone does not make Christians, but despair may 
 open the paths towards the truth. Desire is not an argu- 
 ment ; but it is not an evil that God has given to truth the 
 figure of happiness. He has anointed with honey the rim 
 of the medicinal cup. Do you haply find that He ought 
 to have anointed it with gall ? Perhaps you w r ould have 
 done so, ye Stoic souls ; but God is no Stoic. No ; you say, 
 neither gall nor honey ; nothing at all. Oh, philosophers, 
 
190 ON THE PYRRHONISM OF PASCAL, 
 
 ye know everything except humanity ! But God knows it. 
 Leave Him alone. 
 
 Is it that perchance (for it is sometimes what is not said 
 that chiefly requires to be answered) — is it that perchance it 
 might have been wished that Pascal had made a halt in 
 natural religion, instead of passing boldly from atheism to 
 Christianity, or, in some sort, from one extreme to the other ? 
 It is possible that some who were atheists have become deists, 
 and even have remained such. There are others for whom 
 there is nothing between the two extremes, and whom Chris- 
 tianity alone, by what is special in it, has had the strength 
 to withdraw from the embraces of atheism. The pause 
 which you demand of them, they have not been free to 
 make. And, after all, why should they have made it, if 
 they have not found in the arguments and in the prin- 
 ciples of deism wherewithal to satisfy the wants of their 
 mind and heart, and if Christianity, on the other hand, 
 has fully satisfied these wants ? If you, who make this ob- 
 jection to them, are not Christians, you may lament for them 
 for having been carried too far ; but when you lament for 
 them, you can understand them. But if, on the contrary, 
 you are Christians, how can it be that you should make 
 this objection to them ? For, if you have become Christians, 
 it is because you could not be contented with theism ; it is 
 because this position did not, or does not, appear to you to 
 be tenable, and because you have found the true theism, 
 with its reality, its substance, and its life, only in the bosom 
 and under the form of Christianity. At what, then, are you 
 astonished ? Or what kind of Christianity do you profess, 
 if you can be astonished ? 
 
 At bottom, Pascal has made this pause which is demanded 
 
AND ON HIS PERSONAL RELIGION. 101 
 
 of him. He has made it in thought. Pie has tried natural 
 religion, and has found this frail bark unfit to carry humanity. 
 Seeing it sinking under him, he has hastened to pass into 
 another vessel; that is to say, that theism, like atheism, 
 has disappointed him. Always despair, you say. But let 
 us have done with this singular reproach. In fact, what is 
 it to you whether I have begun with despair or not ? Am 
 I obliged to render you an account of the matter ? I was 
 only responsible to you, or rather to myself, to examine. 
 Have I done so ? That is the question. And to return to 
 Pascal ; has Pascal examined ? Has Pascal been convinced? 
 Has Pascal become a Christian by conviction? Or has 
 Pascal thrown himself into the faith as into a dark abyss ? 
 Has his conversion been nought but a suicide of his reason ? 
 I appeal on this point to all who have read the Thoughts, 
 to all who are acquainted with the life of Pascal. They will 
 tell us if Pascal were convinced. Better still, perhaps, will 
 those tell us who owe to him that they are convinced, that 
 they are, like him, set free from despair, or that a serious but 
 calm curiosity attracted them to the reading of his Apology. 
 But I should do wrong were I to stop here. I have sup- 
 posed Pascal an atheist ; I have supposed him in despair ; 
 and I have intimated that it was not only his thought, but 
 his heart, that suffered in those polar regions of the moral 
 world. I must dwell upon this point ; for neither friends 
 nor' enemies have dwelt sufficiently upon it. 
 
 Some will see nothing in Pascal but the despair of the 
 thought, the distresses of an intellect hungering for truth, 
 eager for knowledge. 
 
 It is a mistake to suppose that in Christianity Pascal sought 
 only a pillow to rest his weary head. His life and his writ- 
 
192 ON THE PYRRHONISM OF PASCAL, 
 
 ings suggest to us a different judgment. Pascal, writing an 
 apology, or, if you will, a demonstration of Christianity, has 
 given so much space to the description of the troubles of the 
 intellect, that people have been led to suppose that he was 
 only recounting his own history, and that it was his whole 
 history. But his book, however full it be of himself, is one 
 thing, and his life is another. That he panted more pain- 
 fully than others under the oppression of doubt, that uncer- 
 tainty, as such, was more insupportable to him than to many 
 others, and that the desire of knowledge had with him almost 
 as much intensity as the love of happiness can have with the 
 generality of men, — I admit. But Pascal was conscious of 
 nobler wants. His soul thirsted for righteousness still more 
 than his mind thirsted for knowledge. This opens the eyes, 
 or rather this gives eyes. He had thenceforth, to assure him 
 of the truth of the Gospel, a sense which may be wanting to 
 the most intelligent, the most gifted. He knew thenceforth 
 that truth and life are not two things, — that there is a sub- 
 stantial truth, and that that alone is truth. Thus those 
 things were taught him " which have not entered into the 
 heart of man, and which God reveals to those who love 
 Him." He had part in the blessing promised to those who 
 " hunger and thirst after righteousness." 
 
 If Pascal threw himself into an abyss, it was into that of 
 holiness. The nothingness which he fled from is sin ; the 
 darkness which confounded him was the outer darkness, 
 which is black only from the absence of God. He saw light 
 where he saw love, and it is properly into love that he threw 
 himself. He is represented as drawn by despair into the 
 faith as into a dark cavern ; I see him drawn irresistibly 
 toward the beauty of God. 
 
AND ON HIS PERSONAL RELIGION. 1 93 
 
 It is not enough for an illustrious writer that Pascal, in 
 his opinion, became a Christian to have done with it, and as 
 a sort of last resort. He does not admit even that he found 
 rest in the faith. We are told cursorily of the " unquiet and 
 unhappy faith which he undertakes to communicate to men 
 like himself." Seek for it, this unquiet and unhappy faith, 
 for yourselves and all those whom you love. This is all 
 that I should say ; for how is it possible to answer such an 
 assertion ? We wait for proofs ; we want to know the pas- 
 sages, the acts, in which Pascal's faith shows itself to be 
 unquiet and unhappy. We have not yet been able to dis- 
 cover them. We keep silence till M. Cousin speak. He 
 has spoken, gentlemen. He informs us that there escape 
 from the author of the Tliouglits, in the midst of the attacks 
 of his convulsive devotion, cries of misery and despair. This 
 convulsive devotion is apparently those returns upon the 
 past, those regrets, those sobs, those tremblings, those prayers 
 perhaps, which we had taken for the usual characteristics of 
 the sublime reaction of the new man against the old man : 
 these are all his convulsions. As for those cries, vou are 
 perhaps still more embarrassed, and you ask in what part of 
 his book they are heard. Oh, what incredible deafness, or 
 what an unpractised ear ! What ? Have you not read in 
 Pascal this confounding expression : " The eternal silence 
 of these infinite spaces frightens me?" (I. 224); and this 
 other: "How many kingdoms know nothing of us?" (I. 
 224.) And this other still : " How hollow is the heart of 
 man, and how full of uncleanness?" (II. 31.) Is this 
 sufficiently clear? There is, truly, here only one thing 
 manifest. It is the sway of prejudice over the best minds. 
 And why should not Pascal, speaking as a man and not as 
 
194 ON THE PYRRHONISM OF PASCAL, 
 
 a Christian, stating the impressions which are natural to all 
 contemplative minds not settled by Christianity, have said 
 that he could not bear the eternal silence of these infinite 
 spaces? The God of Christians, the God of Pascal, ani- 
 mates with His voice, peoples with His presence, that infinite 
 solitude of which Pascal here speaks to us with so eloquent 
 terror. It is admirable, it is just .what he ought to have 
 said. Why, in the same point of view, should not the 
 author of the Thoughts have cried, " How many realms are 
 ignorant of us !" Leave him, then, to humble at his plea- 
 sure this creature whom, in good time, he is to magnify so 
 prodigiously before you ; for this caitiff being, whom the 
 worlds know not, God knows him, and God takes care of 
 him. Why, lastly, should Pascal be afraid to call hollow 
 and full of uncleanness that heart of man, of which a prophet 
 has said, with more energy than Pascal, " The heart of man 
 is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked ? " By 
 what right, when the question is about a book whose author 
 places himself by turns in the most different points of view, — 
 by what right lay hold of an isolated expression, of which 
 the destination is unknown, as well as the date, in order to 
 pronounce that this is the conclusive condition of the soul 
 of its author, and the last result of all his thinking ? We 
 think we recollect that it was four lines that a famous poli- 
 tician asked as enough to hang any one that he pleased. 
 M. Cousin requires but one to condemn the faith of Pascal. 
 What gives the most handle to criticism, I will even say 
 to blame, in this volume of Pascal, is the piece entitled by 
 the author himself, Of Infinity — Nothing. To explain this 
 title is to give account of the piece. Wagering against 
 Christianity, there is infinity to lose if Christianity is true, 
 
AND ON HIS PERSONAL RELIGION. 1 95 
 
 nothing to lose if Christianity is not true.* You will find 
 the same idea under another form in La Bruyere. If Pas- 
 cal and La Bruyere had proposed to make the choice be- 
 tween Christianity and infidelity a pure matter of calcula- 
 tion, assuredly they were wrong. If they have spoken in 
 such a way as to give grounds for ascribing to them such 
 an idea, still they are wrong ; and I believe that they cannot 
 be absolutely defended from this latter reproach. But it 
 seems to me difficult for a man convinced of Christianity, 
 and earnestly desiring to gather all men under the same 
 shadow, not to find himself, at one time or another, drawn 
 towards ideas which will not be without resemblance to those 
 of Pascal and La Bruyere. u What do you lose (he will 
 say) by being a Christian ? What evil will come of it ? 
 You will be faithful, honest, humble, grateful, beneficent, a 
 sincere friend, truthful. True, you will not be in sinful 
 pleasures, in glory, or in luxury. But will you not have 
 other pleasures ? I tell you that you will be a gainer in this 
 life ; for no one is so happy as the true Christian. What, 
 then, do you lose by being a Christian ? Nothing at all. 
 But what do you lose by not being a Christian, in case 
 that Christianity be true ? Infinity." 
 
 It will not be said that this reasoning is bad as reasoning, 
 but it will be asked if it is specifically applicable. That it 
 is advantageous to believe, we admit freely ; but do we be- 
 lieve anything because it is advantageous to believe it? 
 We believe it because it is true, or because it appears to be 
 true. We have stated in what situation we should regard 
 the man as placed with whom Pascal is dealing in the 
 chapter of which we speak. He is a man whom his heart 
 * See Appendix, Note U. 
 
196 ON THE PYRRHONISM OF PASCAL, 
 
 bears towards the Gospel, who cannot help seeing in the 
 Gospel the repose and the rule of his life; but who has been 
 stopped on the threshold, and for a long time, by invincible 
 doubts. It is to this man that Pascal addresses himself, and 
 whom he charges, not to believe, but to act as if he believed, 
 to live as a Christian before he thinks as a Christian. It is 
 as if he said to him : An element of conviction escapes you, 
 and it is not within the range of your reason, which evi- 
 dently is at its end, and understands no further. Enter, 
 and you will see from within what you cannot see from 
 without. Practise Christianity, and you shall know it. But 
 how will this lead me to Christianity ? asks the inquirer. 
 "To show you that it leads you thitherward," answers Pascal, 
 " it is because it lessens the passions, which are your great 
 obstacles," etc. (II. 169.) One more infallible than Pascal 
 had given the same counsel in terms that we have quoted to 
 you. (John vii. 17.) It is true that when Pascal comes 
 to the details, he separates from his divine model; for Jesus 
 Christ would not have said, Take holy water, cause masses 
 to be said. Jesus Christ is wiser than Pascal. He only 
 counsels us to do, experimentally, what in itself is good and 
 obligatory, — what we ought to do even if Christianity were 
 not true. Pascal has not counselled so well. But, at bot- 
 tom, what did he mean ? What Jesus Christ meant, to 
 regulate the life in order to regulate the mind. Jesus 
 Christ, moreover, did not say, "Naturally, this will lead you 
 to believe, and will reduce you to the condition of beasts :" for 
 He would not have added to the difficulty of things by the 
 obscurity of w r ords. But the thought on which Pascal has 
 thrown, as a coarse rag, this strange expression, Jesus Christ 
 Himself, the Divine Teacher, would certainly have approved. 
 
AND ON HIS PERSONAL RELIGION. 197 
 
 It is at the very foundation of Christianity, which would 
 have us renounce the wisdom of the world for a higher wis- 
 dom, — the reason of the reason, for the reason of the Spirit, 
 or of the conscience. We must, in a certain way, become 
 fools that we may be wise; that is to say, to express it more 
 simply, reason must be humbled before things that have not 
 entered into the heart of man, which God has prepared for 
 those who love Him. Love opens the mind to thoughts so 
 high, so new, that they must seem foolishness to those who 
 do not receive them. 
 
198 THE FRO VINCI ALS OF FASCAL. 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE PEOVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 
 
 The history of the Provincials, the analysis of the work, 
 and numerous quotations, have furnished us with the prin- 
 cipal elements of that summary estimate of them, which 
 you doubtless expect at the close of this study. I have 
 already, by several general observations, anticipated this 
 conclusion. I shall not hesitate to repeat them, in order 
 to collect under one view all that belongs to the same 
 design. 
 
 You know in what condition Pascal found language an d 
 style. France was then forming her rhetoric, and was pre- 
 paring forms for her thought, as if in preparation for her 
 thinking. Yet I confess that there was much mind already 
 in circulation, and even much thought. Descartes had 
 already written, in very good French, though perhaps a 
 little Grecianised, the Discourse on Method. But, besides 
 that it must be admitted that, in general, thought and speech 
 transacted their business apart and unknown to each other, 
 there was wanting to this language, already beautiful, but 
 with a cold beauty, — there was wanting to this Galatea, 
 if I may venture so to call her, a Pygmalion whose warmth 
 might impart life to her. Thought does much for a lan- 
 guage, but passion does more. From passion alone it can 
 receive motion, pliability, and, strange to say, even measure. 
 By its means alone the imposing, perhaps colossal, statue 
 
THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 199 
 
 becomes a living body, a free being which transports itself 
 whithersoever it is commanded to go. I speak of a passion 
 shared, of a public passion, or one fitted to become such : 
 for eloquence is born at once of the sympathy which we ex- 
 perience, and of that which we hope for; you may add, of the 
 opposition which we foresee without fearing it ; for in order 
 to eloquence there needs both friends and enemies, and it 
 can almost as little dispense with the latter as with the 
 former. But what is necessary to the orator in order to his 
 becoming eloquent, is equally necessary to the language of 
 a people in order to its becoming eloquent ; I mean eloquent 
 in itself, or suited to eloquence. It is indispensable that 
 passion, a public passion, intervene. There must be actual 
 interests, living questions. All the improvements that it can 
 have received ere then, are of necessity superficial. Its 
 swaddling-clothes may be embroidered, but it is strangled 
 in them. Its movements are painful and heavy. People 
 already w T rite, but they do not speak ; and that form of 
 discourse which is not intended to be poetry, and which yet 
 is not prose (if it be true that the impress of reality is the 
 true stamp of prose), is, as Bossuet says, " a something 
 which has no name in any language." 
 
 The author of the Proviricials found a passion in the 
 public, and, mixing his own with it, he hastened on its 
 course. He gave and received assistance. The full and 
 roaring wave of the public passion increased and drew on 
 his ; his own, more serious and more powerful than that of 
 the public, added ardour to the general pre-occupation. It 
 should not be necessary for us to share this passion in order 
 to comprehend it ; but still we should not comprehend it 
 unless we perceived how grave was the object of it. One 
 
200 THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 
 
 of the most universal faults of every epoch, is not appreciat- 
 ing the pre-occupations of the times which are no more. 
 The questions discussed in the Provincials are spoken of as # 
 obsolete questions ; but they are not obsolete, and nothing 
 can make them such. There is not, in the debate into which 
 Pascal threw the weight of his genius and of his conviction, 
 anything which is not interesting for all times. The con- 
 flict of Dr Arnauld with the Sorbonne; the play of passions 
 and of intrigue in the bosom of that corporation of theolo- 
 gians; the popular passion which is heard hoarsely muttering 
 around the sacred enclosure ; the minority previously con- 
 demned, who appeal from the doctoral Areopagus briskly 
 and suddenly to the public, which is constituted into a 
 court of appeal for the second time since its convocation by 
 the Reformers of the sixteenth century, — all this cannot 
 appear indifferent but to those for whom the Fronde, on the 
 other hand, is a serious event and worthy of minute study. 
 Let us dare to say it ; nothing greater occurred in the seven- 
 teenth century. The pre-occupations of the public of this 
 epoch were at least as important as ours. And although 
 we had only the three first Provincials, I should not speak 
 otherwise. But how much the ground of debate was enlarged 
 by the illustrious pamphleteer ! As to the real gravity of 
 the debate, form the estimate from the whole of his polemics, 
 and not from some words, in which the skilful tactician is 
 displayed rather than the impassioned man. When he says 
 to the adversaries of Port-Royal : " The principal artifice of 
 your conduct is to make it be believed that all is at stake in 
 a matter which is of no moment," you may internally answer 
 him ; Yes, all is at stake, and it is yourself that has con- 
 vinced us of it. Your first letters made us suspect it ; bu< 
 
THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 201 
 
 how much more the subsequent ones ! Can we fail to know, 
 after reading these letters, that the question at issue between 
 Port-Koyal and its adversaries is only this : in ecclesiastical 
 matters, the question of fact and of right, that is to say, the 
 limits of the infallibility of the holy see ; in theology, grace ; 
 in morals, everything, we mean principles and their appli- 
 cations ? 
 
 M. Villemain did not say all, but he said truth, when he 
 declared that " the solitaries of Port-Royal, while appearing 
 to discuss only scholastic subtleties, represented liberty of 
 conscience, the spirit of inquiry, the love of righteousness 
 and of truth." Even from the point of view of our age, 
 too exclusively pre-occupied with civil liberty, the struggle 
 of Port-Royal and its immortal secretary against an order 
 and against a party who aspired to the government of the 
 state, and knew how to attain it, is worthy, even now, of a 
 lively interest. The tradition of liberty, believe us, is per- 
 petual like that of truth. There is no period at which 
 liberty, which is one of the truths of social order, has not 
 had its representatives and its witnesses. Of what import- 
 ance are the form and the applications? The earnest 
 minds of the seventeenth century did not pursue the same 
 liberty that we pursue, or, to speak more properly, they did 
 not, like us, pursue the guarantees of liberty ; but, like us, 
 and perhaps more earnestly than we, they pursued liberty. 
 They drew on the public passion into a field into which it fol- 
 lowed them only, I believe, because it had no other; and we 
 do not risk much in supposing that between questions of theo- 
 logy and political questions, if the choice had been given it, the 
 public would, without much hesitation, have attached itself to 
 the latter. Be it as it may, one arena alone was open to liberty, 
 
I 
 
 202 THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 
 
 which in all times has known how to openfor itself one or more. 
 The seventeenth century, thus restricted, it appears to us, 
 at least exercised and prepared itself for liberty by means 
 of religion and literature, which are themselves two liberties, 
 and the pledge of all others. Those religious discussions in 
 the seventeenth century which we think wearisome, that 
 literary development which seems only to have puffed up 
 the vanity of the nation, did not fail to set France on the 
 way towards liberty. Port-Royal advanced her farther on 
 this road than the Fronde ; and Louis xiv., in pensioning 
 Racine and Despreaux, pensioned liberty, whose germ exists 
 in concealment, and silently develops itself in all the elevated 
 applications of the human mind. All these debates, all 
 these labours, by forming a public, prepared a people ; for 
 the public is the precursor of the people. 
 
 But in order to convoke this public on account of abstract 
 and even subtle questions, two things were necessary. It 
 was necessary, on the one hand, to raise them into questions 
 of morals ; for morals, especially in modern society, are 
 always popular ; and you will observe, gentlemen, that 
 now as always, the people, obeying the noblest of instincts, 
 reduce all questions of politics into questions of morals. 
 But to this height did the author of the Provincials elevate 
 the debate. Another thing still was wanted, I shall make 
 you understand what it was by repeating to you a passage 
 of Pascal, in his Thoughts : u It is necessary that we should 
 not be able to say (of a writer) that he is either a mathe- 
 matician, or a preacher, or eloquent, but that he is an honest 
 man" It was precisely in this that most of the writers of 
 the time, even on subjects of common interest, had hitherto 
 been deficient. Not that they did not pride themselves on 
 
THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 203 
 
 ueing honest men ; but u the true honest man (says Laroche- 
 foucauld) is he who prides himself on nothing/' no, not 
 even on being an honest man. Pascal knew that it was 
 necessary to be this, and he did not pride himself on it. He 
 knew, in his writings, to be an honest man ; that is to say, 
 according to the language of the time, a man rather than a 
 writer, a man although a writer, a man of reality, a man of 
 life, I would gladly say a man of the world, taking the ex- 
 pression in the best sense that it can bear. It was then, in 
 the domain of literature, a grand novelty, a real discovery. 
 And it is not only once that Pascal exemplified it. If he 
 was an honest man in the Provincials, he was also in the 
 Thoughts; for this apology for Christianity was the first, 
 among modern apologies, that was written by an honest man. 
 For the rest, you will understand that the honest man, in the 
 sense of the seventeenth century, is not the contrary of the 
 honest man in the sense of the present. In Pascal, at least, 
 the two meanings harmonise admirably. These Provincials, 
 so pleasant and so lively, so admirable in the estimation of 
 the world, were, in Pascal's intention, a work as serious, and 
 perhaps as necessary, as the Thoughts. He wrote them in 
 the midst of the most acute sufferings, and, so to speak, 
 with one foot on the threshold of the eternal world. Is 
 there nought to be found in them of the spirit of the world, 
 nought of the bitterness of the old man ! I dare neither 
 affirm it, nor deny it. But when still nearer the tomb, 
 Pascal, being adjured in some sort, to do himself justice 
 with respect to this writing, answered : " If my letters are 
 condemned at Eome, what I condemn in them is condemned 
 in heaven. To Thy tribunal I appeal, oh Lord Jesus ! I 
 am asked if I repent of having written the Provincials, I 
 
204 THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 
 
 answer that, far from repenting of it, if I had to do it now, 
 I should make them still stronger." 
 
 But for the moment we have to do with another kind of 
 honesty. What we refer to consists only in rejecting tech- 
 nical language, the formula? of the schools, esoterism, the 
 emphasis or the delicacies of wit, and, in a word, speaking 
 like everybody and for everybody. And, in fact, the Pro- 
 vincials, being addressed to everybody, reached their destina- 
 tion. Their success was immense and popular from the 
 first, as Pascal himself testifies. " Your two letters (he re- 
 presents the Provincial as writing to him) w T ere not for me 
 alone. Everybody sees them, everybody understands them, 
 everybody believes them. They are not only esteemed by 
 theologians, they are agreeable even to people of the w T orld, 
 and intelligible even to women." The public did them the 
 honour which it does to the works whose names it has often 
 in its mouth. It abridged their title. They were not the 
 Letters to the Provincial, but the Provincials, a title which 
 Pascal himself adopted. There are only tw r o name-givers in 
 the world, the people and the law. I say not which of them 
 has more authority. 
 
 I do not know whether it ought not to be added that 
 Pascal, without knowing it, flattered some popular instincts, 
 apparently because he had them in himself. When you 
 hear him exclaim : " In truth the world is becoming dis- 
 trustful, and only believes things when it sees them ;" when 
 the saying escapes him, " If there were constant observations 
 to prove that it is the earth that turns around the sun, all 
 men together (the Pope included) would not keep it from 
 turning, and would not keep themselves from turning along 
 it,"— the observer of the Puy-de-dome, who was supposed to 
 
THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 205 
 
 be far away, reappears before you. And doubt not these 
 words, and others like them, when spread abroad, made 
 more than one heart throb with a strange pleasure. Pascal, 
 as a theologian, made his reservations no doubt, and pre- 
 served for the head of the Church a sphere of infallibility ; 
 but he made other reservations in favour of the senses, in 
 favour of common sense perhaps, in favour of facts, in 
 favour of science. He is not on that account the less a 
 Catholic ; but he has interposed, in the name of the intel- 
 lectual liberty which was threatened, an appeal on the 
 ground of excess of jurisdiction. This shall be reckoned to 
 his credit; it shall be remembered; and all that class of men 
 who believe only what they see, shall regard themselves as 
 proceeding from this writer, who in his Thoughts has some- 
 times the air of not allowing men to believe even what they 
 do see. M. Villemain is right : the spirit of inquiry is one 
 of the things of which Pascal, in the book of the Provincials, 
 has made himself the representative. 
 
 We have no occasion to say more in order to make it be 
 understood what charming surprise was excited in the public 
 by the appearance of the little letters. The interest of some 
 of them has diminished ; that of several others is lasting, or 
 is always ready to be renewed. " Your maxims (says Pas- 
 cal to his adversaries) have something amusing in them, 
 which always rejoices the world." In our days, Pascal 
 would perhaps find that the odious carries it over the ridi- 
 culous ; for, excepting that he has made a choice, and that 
 he has managed his adversaries, what we know of modern 
 casuistry excites less of laughter than of horror. But there 
 was ample material for both in the curious library, whose 
 rays are so obligingly dispensed by the good father whom 
 
206 THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 
 
 Pascal brings on the stage from the fifth letter. I am not 
 capable, gentlemen, of sitting in judgment on the judgment 
 of Pascal, though I have no hesitation in repelling with in- 
 dignation the well-known saying of M. de Maistre : u From 
 the Liar of Corneille to the Liars of Pascal." Pascal here 
 occupies the position of an accuser, and not of a judge. The 
 Provincials are not a sentence, but an indictment. If he is 
 just, it is as an adversary, an enemy may be just ; as one 
 may be just towards those whom he wishes, justly perhaps, 
 but still wishes, to destroy. Even in this sense, is he always 
 just? Is he just in referring everything to premeditation, 
 to calculation, and never anything to error ? Even a Jesuit 
 may be deceived. And when, in his thirteenth letter, Pas- 
 cal represents the Jesuits as throwing forth upon the world 
 the halves of maxims, innocent when halved, but intended 
 to be united in due time and place, to form by their union 
 a monstrous error, do you not think that he infers a little 
 too strictly the intention from the act ? I have asked my- 
 self these questions ; but, after all, it must be admitted that 
 the most skilful could not do at the same time two things so 
 different as are polemics and history. Pascal, u the minis- 
 ter of a great vengeance," to use his own language, holds a 
 sword and not a balance ; and, whether on this account, or 
 because he is a Catholic, a whole class of considerations must 
 have remained strange to him. He is not led to observe 
 that the Jesuits are only the foster-fathers, not the real 
 fathers, of the system which bears their name ; that what 
 has, justly or unjustly, been called Jesuitism, dates from the 
 beginning of the world ; that the art of interpretations, the 
 direction of intention, and mental reservations, have been 
 practised in all times by the most ignorant of men ; and that, 
 
THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 207 
 
 if the name Jesuit had the meaning which the Jansenist3 
 had given it of their own accord, and which it has since 
 borne in general usage, it would require to be said that the 
 human heart is naturally Jesuit. What is probability, but 
 an extraordinary name of the most ordinary thing in the 
 world, — the worship of opinion, the preference given to autho- 
 rity over individual conviction, to persons over ideas, to the 
 chance of occurrences over the oracles of conscience ? The 
 spirit of the age, public opinion, the progress of ideas, what 
 is it all but still probability under modern and popular 
 names ? Probability was without a name until Satan as- 
 sailed our first parents. But w r as Satan, in their eyes, 
 aught else than a grave doctor, — very capable, after all, of 
 rendering his opinion probable ? All this is no excuse for 
 Escobar, Molina, or Father Bauny, if they did, in fact, from 
 the infinitely varied suggestions of the wicked one, compose 
 a whole system of morals ; only, the honour or the shame of 
 the invention does not belong to them in any way. 
 
 For another reason, Pascal could not have said that a 
 church which is led by its principle to value numbers above 
 all else, and to address itself immediately to the masses, must 
 give up two things at once, viz., the formation of a living 
 unity, and the maintenance of the highest principles in 
 theology and in morals. What Montesquieu said of aristo- 
 cratic government, that its spirit is moderation, may be said, 
 in a certain sense, of the massive church to which Pascal 
 and his adversaries alike belonged. Sublime verities may 
 have been professed, sublime virtues may have been prac- 
 tised, by men belonging to her ; but the sublime in anything 
 is not her doing ; and there is no angle a little sharp which 
 she has not more or less blunted. But every idea, with the 
 
203 THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 
 
 help of circumstances, must one day reach its complete ex- 
 pression, and be personified either in a body or an indi- 
 vidual ; and then it has the appearance of rising above 
 itself, whereas it simply stands erect on the platform where 
 it was. Thus it happened with the Romish idea in the 
 sixteenth century. The companions of Ignatius produced 
 indefinitely all the lines that had been begun. In theology, 
 in morals, they spoke the last word of their church; or 
 rather, they revealed to the church her own thoughts ; or 
 rather still, they revealed to her the inevitable consequences 
 of her principles. The church was excited; the most 
 illustrious doctors issued protests, disavowals. Catholicism 
 would be neither Jesuit nor ultramontane. Still it is both 
 the one and the other in germ ; and I know not how, with- 
 out denying or destroying itself, it can ever get rid of these 
 inconvenient and dangerous excrescences. 
 
 An observation suggests itself on reading in Pascal the 
 extracts on the morality of the casuists. How the human 
 mind is stunted under the influence of sophistry, and, above 
 all, religious sophistry ! There are no smaller minds than 
 those that approach great subjects with small thoughts. 
 Instead of growing large, they grow smaller ; and, in this 
 respect, we may say that no science is so well fitted as the 
 science of religion to elevate and enlarge thought, yet no 
 region of science presents to us, among the minds that fre- 
 quent it, so striking and complete examples of frivolity and 
 puerility. So it is, and so it must be. Truth, when we 
 diminish it, avenges itself by diminishing us. 
 
 The quotations that we have made* have given you the 
 
 * In a previous lecture, not extant. 
 
THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 209 
 
 means of appreciating what a continuous perusal will, 
 doubtless, make you admire still more ; the ingenious skil- 
 fulness of the composition. The general progress of the work 
 was not, and could not be, premeditated ; and if we admire 
 in it truly dramatic changes, a perfect rhythm, the honour 
 of it belongs to the situation and the incidents at least as 
 much as to the author. But in each of the distinct parts of 
 which the work is composed, to what a pitch is the art of 
 transitions and of gradation carried ! Art truly perfect ; 
 for it is not perceived on a first reading, but reflection soon 
 discovers it, and it is a new enjoyment. I speak especially 
 of the letters in which Pascal represents himself as indoc- 
 trinated by the good Jesuit father ; but the merit which I 
 remark, and which I recommend to your study, is more or 
 less remarkable in them all. 
 
 The two series of letters which unitedly compose the col- 
 lection of the Provincials differ greatly from each other, 
 though both are equally perfect. We have alternately, it 
 has been often said, Moliere and Demosthenes. There is no 
 exaggeration in this compliment. The comic of Moliere, 
 in his most excellent works, is not better than that of the 
 first Provincials ; and when they appeared, Moliere did not 
 exist. As M. Villemain says, "We should admire the 
 Provincial Letters less, if they had not been written before 
 Moliere." Moliere, in fact, may have owed something to 
 Pascal, and it is difficult to doubt that he did. Pascal 
 learned nothing from Moliere. Corneille, in his comedies, 
 the best of which preceded the pamphlets of Pascal by four- 
 teen years, had had the merit of bringing on the stage the 
 conversation of respectable people. He had been very 
 pleasant in the Liar ; but the Liars, to use the language 
 
210 THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 
 
 of M. de Maistre, owe nothing to the Liar. If Pascal did 
 not invent the comic, which is older in France than 
 Corneille himself, he gave the first example of it to the 
 seventeenth century. All the letters included between the 
 fourth and the eleventh Provincials are, I will not say per- 
 fect comedies, but treasures and models of the most excellent 
 comic. What is to be admired in Pascal, is his preference, 
 in the execution of his design, of comedy to satire. A satire 
 of such length would have been monotonous ; we weary of 
 mockery almost as quickly as of praise. But the comic, 
 which is nought but the simple disclosure of a character by 
 itself, when it is good, is not wearisome. Such is the virtue 
 of the drama, and the charm, I will say, of simplicity, for the 
 comic is always simple. A comic character is one who does 
 not wish to be so, who betrays himself unconsciously, and 
 who would willingly say with Alceste, on seeing the laugh 
 burst out around him, and on account of him — " Upon my 
 word, gentlemen, I did not suppose myself to be so pleasant 
 as I am." The comic is the simplicity of sin. 
 
 The most consummate hypocrite may have simplicities 
 which render him comic ; and thus it is that Tartufe, I mean 
 the character of Tartufe, is found proper for comedy. It is in 
 the same sense that those of the little letters which have led 
 to the comparison of their author to the author of Tartufe, 
 are essentially comic. The malicious good-nature and the 
 feigned docility of the disguised Jansenist are, doubtless, 
 very amusing ; but what is comic is the character and the 
 part of the casuist. I tried, in my last lecture, to analyse 
 this character : I did better ; I allowed it to delineate itself 
 before your eyes in some of Pascal's pages : I shall not 
 return to it now. I shall only add, that the pleasure 
 
THE PROVINCIALS OF TASCAL. 211 
 
 afforded by satire, however excellent, is in general of an 
 inferior nature to that yielded by comedy. There is in the 
 latter something more than amusement, something even 
 above the legitimate but dangerous satisfaction which the 
 sight of a necessary and deserved punishment may afford. 
 The pleasure of comedy, or, to restrict myself to the exact 
 truth, the pleasure which the comic properly so called 
 yields, is a poetical and intellectual, I will even say, if you 
 permit me, a philosophical pleasure. But we should not 
 forget that Pascal is not only pleasant by the ridicule of 
 others, but that he is very pleasant on his own account, and 
 that, for the fineness and good taste of his raillery, he is an 
 accomplished model who had had no model. There is no 
 gaiety more fresh and more cordial than that of this melan- 
 choly man ; and this is perhaps a proof that the gift of 
 tears and that of laughter have a secret relationship. But 
 there is no raillery more elegant than that of this solitary. 
 The honest man appears throughout, in that age which was 
 peculiarly that of honest people. Never, or almost never, 
 does he play on a w r ord ; his pleasantry, like that of Madame 
 de Sevigne, turns ahvays upon things. Not, says Boileau, 
 but that 
 
 u A fflnse, though e'er so fine, 
 May give to play on words a passing line." 
 
 And Pascal has allowed himself this liberty at least once, but 
 sheltering himself behind an academician, which is perhaps, 
 after all, but a piece of supererogatory maliciousness. "As 
 an academician (he makes this personage say), I would au 
 thoritatively condemn, banish, proscribe, I might almost say 
 I would exterminate with all my power, this neighbouring 
 power, which makes so much noise about nothing. The 
 
212 THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 
 
 evil is, that our academic power is a very distant and limited 
 power." A play upon words more decided, and of more 
 questionable taste, occurs at the end of the first letter, but 
 only in the old editions : " I leave you at liberty to hold by 
 the word neighbour or not ; for I love my neighbour too 
 much to persecute him under this pretext." As I find this 
 badinage still in an edition of the Provincials published in 
 1667 (five years after Pascal's death), the expression stands 
 to his account, and presses with all its weight on his con- 
 science as a writer. It is not, I think, a very heavy burden. 
 Be that as it may, the expression has disappeared. As the 
 friends who suppressed it had not, apparently, better taste 
 than Pascal, it may be supposed that scruples of a more 
 serious nature demanded this suppression. 
 
 But what fault can the most delicate taste find in such 
 passages as the following 1 ? The first forms part of the 
 postscript of that thundering philippic which is called the 
 fourteenth Provincial. How ready gaiety is always to 
 spring up afresh in a serene soul ! 
 
 " . . . You ought not to make him disavow anything 
 so public as the blow of Compiegne. It is evident, my 
 fathers, from the declaration of the injured man, that he 
 received on his cheek a stroke from the hand of a Jesuit ; 
 and all that your friends have been able to do, is to make it 
 doubtful whether it was given with the palm or the back of 
 the hand, and to agitate the question whether a stroke with 
 the back hand on the cheek ought to be called a blow or 
 not. I know not whose province it is to decide that ; but 
 I should still think that it was at least a probable blow. 
 This saves my conscience." 
 
 The following appears to me still better : — 
 
THE PROVINCIALS OF FASCAL. 213 
 
 " Ho ! ho ! says the father, you do not laugh any more. 
 I confess to you, said I, that the suspicion that I wished to 
 amuse myself with sacred things would be very painful to 
 me, as it would be very unjust. I did not say it in earnest, 
 answered the father ; but let us speak more seriously. I 
 am quite disposed to that, if you wish it, my father ; that 
 depends on your 
 
 It may appear singular to say so, but I say it notwith- 
 standing : Of the two comparisons which have been made 
 of Pascal, the one with Moliere, the other with Demosthenes, 
 the one which honours him most is the former. In the 
 second of these parallels it is Demosthenes that is honoured. 
 To lessen the danger of this assertion, it must be explained. 
 Individually, and in respect of talent, the author of the 
 Provincials is, perhaps, not superior to the author of the 
 Philippics. But if the one is not more eloquent than the 
 other, things, if we may so speak, are more eloquent with 
 Pascal than with Demosthenes. We must start from this 
 principle : what is eloquent in eloquent w r orks is truth. 
 Eloquence is only truth impassioned, that is to say, truth in 
 its fulness, for passion completes truth. I speak, you will 
 understand, of truths of the moral class ; but who thinks of 
 asking eloquence from truths of any other class ? Whence 
 w T ould Demosthenes himself have derived his eloquence, if 
 not from moral truths? What are his most famous oratorical 
 displays, but energetic appeals to truths of this class ? It 
 may then be expected that an eloquence which shall have 
 all these at its disposal, and in their most perfect purity as 
 in their greatest elevation, — an eloquence of which these great 
 ideas shall be not only the point of support, but even the 
 object and the material, shall be, all other things being equal, 
 
214 THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 
 
 the loftiest of eloquences. We can, without effort, share in 
 the emotions of Demosthenes ; but our whole heart springs 
 forward to meet the emotions of Pascal in the letter on the 
 love of God, and in that on homicide. Christian eloquence, 
 by which I do not mean to particularise that of the pulpit, 
 but the eloquence of Christian ideas, has doubtless in itself 
 some substantiality and unction, fitted to fill the whole soul ; 
 while every other eloquence, though it bear the name of 
 Demosthenes, will never do more than half fill. We could 
 dispense with the eloquence of talent, if w r e had always the 
 eloquence of things. But we are bound to it. It does not 
 exempt us, it rather imposes upon us a law, to be eloquent 
 ourselves. For w T hat is eloquent in a sensible and effective 
 manner is not the truth without us, but the truth within us ; 
 consequently, as I just expressed myself, truth impassioned. 
 
 Others have called it, gentlemen, impassioned logic. It 
 is without doubt that this adjective and this definition are 
 superior in truthfulness to that incomplete formula, " To be 
 eloquent is to know how to prove." But logic is only a 
 part, the formal and instrumental part, of truth. All 
 truth is logical, so far as it is truth ; but there is a logic 
 concealed at the bottom of truth, even when it is only as- 
 serted or stated ; and there is another logie, ostensible, 
 avowed, actual, so to speak, the employment of which counts 
 for much in the eloquence of discourse ; for to discourse and 
 to reason are synonymous terms. This logic, it appears to 
 me, has attained perfection in the Provincials. 
 
 The logic of discourse, in the Provincials, is remarkable 
 for the close fitting of the links, which are separated by no 
 interval, and whicli form so continuous a whole, that they 
 may be said to be incorporated into one another. In the 
 
THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 215 
 
 fragments of discussion, properly so called, or of deduction, 
 every phrase, every word, travails for the proof, gravitates 
 towards the result. The particles, no less than the masses, 
 obey attraction and tend towards the centre. By the way, 
 and without loss of time, each idea is marked out, each object 
 is characterised ; but all seem to have heard, like humanity, 
 the famous word of Bossuet : March, March ! And all 
 marches, in fact, in these ardent and stubborn deductions. 
 All is on the march, and nothing is in haste. The eloquence 
 of Bossuet consists often in omitting the intermediate ideas, 
 and in bounding with one stroke of wing across all the 
 space which the horizon encloses. The eloquence of Pascal 
 might be said to consist in doing the opposite. So it might 
 be said, gentlemen ; so much power has this slowness. In 
 this progress, measured, but imperturbable, the argument 
 always, so to speak, is advancing : the aspects of the idea 
 are multiplied ; new consequences appear ; formidable alter- 
 natives, ruinous dilemmas, flash out unexpectedly ; error, 
 pressed to extremities by the ruthless logician, gives up, 
 drop by drop, all the poison with which it was inflated ; it 
 is astonished, terrified at itself. Like the criminal put to 
 the rack, besides the confession that is asked from it, pain 
 forces from it others which were not asked. The reduction to 
 the absurd or to the hateful, is doubtless found, whatever be 
 the appearances, at the termination of all argumentation; but 
 it is flagrant, and often unexpected in the discussion of the 
 Provincials ; and Pascal has understood, better than any one 
 else, the oratorical advantage of superabundant proof, which 
 is strengthened by its length, its delays, or, if you will, its 
 adjournments ; as, in another sphere or on other occasions* 
 it is strengthened by expeditious and summary justice* 
 
216 THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 
 
 It is not enough to study the logic of Pascal in the places 
 where naturally it takes its ease, and reigns without a 
 partner. With Pascal, logic mixes itself with everything ; 
 and this, still more than what we have just said of his argu- 
 mentation, forms the distinguishing feature of his fine 
 genius. Shall I be able here to make myself intelligible? 
 Under features more or less veiled, logic or reasoning is 
 everywhere in human speech. The nicest logic is the law, 
 and constitutes the beauty, of the simplest narratives ; logic 
 is at the beginning or at the bottom of the most impetuous 
 emotions of oratory. And how should it be otherwise, since 
 our innermost and most instinctive emotions are mixed with 
 logic? Is a witticism aught else, often, than a sally of 
 logic ? The finest things of every class are the expression 
 of, or are subject to, the law of a superior logic. For cor- 
 rectness and inexactness are not the only differences between 
 one man's logic and another's. There is a learned or 
 sublime logic, as there is a vulgar and superficial logic. It 
 is often inspired or suggested by something which prevails 
 over it; and as there are solid reasonings, so there are 
 touching reasonings. Logic is not anterior to all. Before 
 it there are the facts, and the impressions which the facts 
 produce ; although I w r ould not say that logic has never 
 aught to do with the impressions which appear the simplest. 
 Sublime facts and impressions render logic sublime ; but it 
 preserves its character, and gives to the discourse not only 
 a form but a special energy. Logic has doubtless some 
 part in the effect of these famous lines of Medea — 
 
 " Can he betray me after so many kindnesses ? 
 Dares he forsake me after so many crimes ? " 
 
 May not this be thus translated ? Of two things he forgets 
 
THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 217 
 
 at tlie least one, my kindnesses or our crimes; for if he 
 remembered the former, how could he forsake me; and if he 
 remembered the latter, how would he dare to betray me ? 
 
 The lines which I have just quoted make me almost 
 hesitate to draw from a divine source another proof of my 
 position. Hasten then to forget them, that I may venture 
 to remind you that logic is present and manifest in some of 
 the most impressive sayings of the Great Teacher. Is it 
 not a sublime reasoning, but still a reasoning, that strikes 
 us so forcibly in this passage ? u And as touching the 
 resurrection of the dead, have ye not read what God says 
 to you, I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and 
 the God of Jacob? God is not the God of the dead, but of 
 the living." 
 
 I wish now to say that, in the Provincials, Pascal im- 
 presses the character of logic on all the parts of his discourse, 
 on all the details of his style. I beg you, gentlemen, to 
 peruse the book with this single view. You will then 
 understand me, and you will see, I venture to say, to what 
 extent I am right. It were sufficient for me to recall to 
 you those last pages, which we read a few days ago, of 
 Pascal's fourteenth letter. Even when passion seems to 
 hurry on the course of his chariot, with what firmness, or 
 rather with what vigilant strictness, does logic hold the 
 reins, and with what attention does Pascal, even in respect 
 of the form, observe its minutest requirements! In the 
 calmest passages, devoted to pure discussion, you will not 
 find him more scrupulous, more exact, than in the moments 
 of his ardour. And yet you feel yourselves hurried on, and 
 you see the wheels of the chariot smoke. Logic is impas 
 sioned ; passion remains logical. 
 
 T 
 
218 THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 
 
 These observations may serve to set before you some of 
 the characteristics of Pascal's style. We know what the 
 rhetoricians of the time, at the head of whom it is right to 
 place Balzac, had made of style, or what sort of style they 
 had found. That style, which too often sounded hollow, 
 had acquired, by their care, an elegance, a number, and a 
 certain kind of elasticity which had previously been wanting 
 to it. But that style is full-grown and manly only in the 
 prose of Pascal. Logic and passion have been at the charge 
 of this transformation. Still it must not be supposed that 
 Pascal was entirely dependent on himself, and that he owed 
 nothing to his predecessors. We cannot read him long 
 without perceiving that he had learned something in their 
 school ; and I do not know whether it should not be added, 
 that he might have gained still more. Nothing certainly so 
 important, so essential, as what he has added from his own 
 resources to the common stock. But, in short, those who, 
 in refuting his opinions, tried to refute his style, were some- 
 times right, though on points on which it was of scarcely 
 any consequence to be right. Their remarks prove at least 
 how nice the ear had become ; and Pascal might well have 
 said, what is so true, " Let those only consult the ear who 
 have no heart." It is not, however, the less true that it is 
 good to consult it, and that he sometimes fails in this parti- 
 cular. Father Daniel was perhaps a little severe when he 
 blamed, as inelegant, this expression at the beginning of the 
 Provincials: u So many assemblies of a company so celebrated 
 as is the Theological Faculty of Paris, and where there have 
 passed so many things so extraordinary and so unexampled, 
 make us form so lofty an idea of it, that we can only believe 
 that this is a very extraordinary subject." But would he 
 
THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 219 
 
 have been too rigorous had he found the same fault with 
 some other expressions ? — the following, for example : — 
 " It is time to restore their reputation to so many persons 
 who have been calumniated ; for what innocence can be so 
 generally recognised that it shall not suffer some damage 
 from the so bold impostures of a company spread over all 
 the earth, and who, under religious habits, cover so irreli- 
 gious souls, that they commit crimes, such as calumny, not 
 against their maxims, but in accordance with their own 
 maxims?" 
 
 Expressions such as this, truly unformed, not to say de- 
 formed, are not so rare in the Provincials as might be ex- 
 pected. This does not prevent Pascal's surpassing his pre- 
 decessors even in the good qualities which are peculiar to 
 them. He is more harmonious, more periodic, than any 
 one of them, when he chooses to be so ; and I would say that 
 he cannot equal them without surpassing them, since the 
 merit on which they prided themselves is completed by his. 
 The ear is best consulted when the heart is consulted at the 
 same time. Then number, harmony, have a meaning; and 
 the pleasure which we derive from these being combined 
 with emotions, is so much the more lively and the more 
 touching. You know, gentlemen, that when Shakespeare 
 is moved, he begins to speak in verse ; and that Schiller, in 
 similar moments, adds to his verses a more marked rhythm, 
 and the ornament of rhyme. Pascal, in his way, does the 
 same thing. He is only periodic and harmonious on occa- 
 sion. It is when he is grave, impressed, vehement, that his 
 style becomes musical. He is then as much so as the cha- 
 racter of prose admits of: 
 
 " Before the incarnation, there was an obligation to love 
 
220 THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 
 
 God ; but since God has so loved the world that He has given 
 His only-begotten Son, the world, redeemed by Him, shall be 
 discharged from the obligation of loving Him ! St John's 
 declaration, that he who loveth not abideth in death, is re- 
 versed ! Thus those are rendered worthy of enjoying God 
 in eternity wdio have never loved God in all their life ! 
 Behold the mystery of iniquity completed." 
 
 u Cruel and cowardly persecutors, must, then, the most 
 retired cloisters be no asylum from your calumnies ! While 
 those holy virgins night and day adore Jesus Christ in the 
 holy sacrament, you cease not night and day to proclaim 
 that they do not believe that He is either in the Eucharist, 
 or even at the right hand of His Father ; and you drive 
 them publicly from the Church, while they pray in secret for 
 you and for the whole Church. You calumniate those who 
 have neither ears to hear you, nor a mouth to answer 
 vou," etc. 
 
 I suppress the remainder of this passage, which we have 
 already read entire. 
 
 You who are acquainted with Balzac, and who have read 
 Flechier, these two heroes of the periodic style, have you 
 discovered in the one or the other a period finer than the 
 following ? 
 
 " Oh, great venerators of the holy mystery, whose zeal is 
 employed in persecuting those who honour it by so many 
 holy communions, and in flattering those who dishonour it 
 by so many sacrilegious communions ! How worthy it is of 
 these defenders of so pure and admirable a sacrifice to cause 
 the table of Jesus Christ to be surrounded by hoary sinners 
 budding with their infamy, and to place in the midst of 
 them a priest whom his confessor even sends from his wan- 
 
THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 221 
 
 tonness to the altar, there to offer, in the place of Jesus 
 Christ, that all-holy victim to the God of holiness, and to 
 convey it from his polluted hands into their all-polluted 
 mouths!" 
 
 This fine passage must have struck you in another re- 
 spect; I mean, by the accumulation of antitheses. This 
 figure, altogether intellectual, is that which Pascal employs 
 by preference, if not even exclusively. And one of my 
 hearers pointed out to me the other day, that Pascal's anti- 
 theses are redoubled and interlaced, opposing several words 
 to several words, phrase to phrase, and often one series to 
 the inverse series, with the most careful exactness. You 
 have examples of this in the passage which I have just read 
 to you; or rather the whole passage is composed in this 
 way. On one side the venerators of a holy mystery, and on 
 the other, those who honour it by holy communions ; here, 
 so pure and so admirable a sacrifice, there, hoary sinners all 
 budding with their infamy ; a victim all-holy, and a God of 
 holiness ; polluted hands, and mouths all-polluted. 
 
 You will see elsewhere (Letter XIV.) the world of the 
 children of God, which forms a body of which Jesus Christ 
 is the Head and the King ; and the world at enmity with 
 God, of which the devil is the head and the king ; — Jesus 
 Christ, called the King and the God of the world, because 
 He has everywhere subjects and worshippers; and the devil, 
 called also in Scripture the prince of the world and the god 
 of this generation, because he has everywhere emissaries and 
 slaves. You shall hear the language of the city of peace, 
 which is called the mystical Jerusalem; and you have heard 
 the language of the city of trouble, which the Scripture 
 calls the spiritual Sodom. 
 
222 THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 
 
 Examples, if we sought them, would be found in abund- 
 ance. 
 
 So much evil has been said of antithesis, that I need not 
 say any more. Pascal condemned it more forcibly than 
 any one else, when he compared u those who make antitheses 
 by forcing words to those who make false windows for 
 symmetry." But Pascal does not force words ; and, indeed, 
 it is not properly w r ords that he opposes to words, but ideas 
 to ideas. Antithesis is but a toy in the hands of the orator, 1 
 who says, lamenting the death of Turenne, " Is it that after 
 so many actions worthy of immortality, he had no other 
 mortal thing to do?" But antithesis in Pascal's hands is 
 no toy, it is a w 7 eapon. And what a w r eapon, gentlemen, 
 you have seen. It is a two-edged sword. 
 
 I have established the wholly intellectual character of 
 antithesis. This leads me to speak more generally of the 
 style of Pascal. All its beauties are intellectual or moral ; 
 that is to say, they are of a severe kind. Pascal has 
 always correctness and force, clearness and depth ; but the 
 picturesque metaphor, the coloured image, of which the 
 Thoughts present some beautiful examples, is almost a 
 stranger to the style of the Provincials. No one would say 
 indeed, with reference to this style, 
 
 " Stepmother Nature, in these frightful regions of cold, 
 Produces nothing but soldiers, — iron instead of gold :" 
 
 But it is certain that this manly diction rather calls forth 
 the idea of strongly-tempered and perfectly-polished steel, 
 than of burnished gold. The purification of style, by the 
 writers of the former half of the seventeenth century, had 
 
 1 Flechier. s 
 
THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 223 
 
 had, for its first object, the elimination of those lively and 
 bold metaphors which pushed themselves, in clustered jets, 
 into the writings of the sixteenth century. But not every 
 one knew, like Pascal, to supply the place of brilliancy by 
 strength. With him, strength, always measured and natural, 
 is so great, that it scarcely allows us to regret the want of 
 brilliancy ; but assuredly no one ever less abused, or even less 
 used, figurative style. Pascal would not stoop to collect the 
 happiest of metaphors ; and if he did make an effort, it 
 would be to avoid the metaphor which presents itself to him, 
 and to find the direct expression which escapes him. His 
 style, if you will have it, is strewn with figures, but with 
 those figures wdiich are called oratorical, and which might 
 be called dramatic, in which it is not the word, but the 
 writer himself, that forms the image or picture. 
 
 My admiration of this incomparable style does not, per- 
 haps, prevent my understanding and sharing the regrets of 
 a modern critic, who is displeased with the author of the 
 Provincials for not having sufficiently preserved " the free- 
 dom, the carelessness, the lively and rapid turn, and the sim- 
 plicity of language of our fathers." Perhaps, in fact, in the 
 reformation of the language, sufficient distinction was not 
 made, perhaps all this Gaulism was too hastily rejected. 
 The old was discarded for the antique. We have gained, 
 no doubt ; but we have lost also. But these changes in style 
 were the consequence of changes far more important. 
 People not only wrote, but lived, in a different style. A 
 certain boldness of transition, a certain familiarity in images, 
 a highly coloured style, appeared to every one like the legacy 
 of the old time. In several of these respects, Pascal and his 
 age were admirably at one. Port-Royal also has its share 
 
224 THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 
 
 in this regulated gait and this sobriety. There is asceticism 
 in all this ; and the authority of St Augustine, so prevalent 
 with these solitaries, was not sufficiently so to make them 
 adopt his style. They have only taken his doctrines. Pascal, 
 their secretary, speaking for them, forbade himself those 
 liberties for which his posthumous fragments have proved 
 that he had a natural taste. But, let us admit it, he took many 
 other liberties. Did they appear to him to be more innocent? 
 The Provincials have got the credit of having fixed the lan- 
 guage. If this honour does not belong entirely to Pascal, if 
 Corneille and Balzac claim a share of it, that of Pascal is 
 certainly the greatest. Pascal was the first who was at once 
 pure and popular in prose. Balzac had been less popular, 
 and Corneille, it must be said, less pure. The decisive mo- 
 ment in the history of the language is the moment of the 
 Provincials. For the rest, there is sometimes a misappre- 
 hension of the meaning of the words, " the fixing of a lan- 
 guage." To fix a language is not to arrest its development, 
 to limit its acquisitions. It is to reject entirely what it was 
 hesitating about rejecting, and to sanction authoritatively all 
 the rest. Many expressions which were still in use were 
 condemned without remedy by the contempt with 'which 
 Pascal treated them. Others, whose fate was uncertain, he 
 has, as Madame de Sevigne would have said, " consecrated 
 to immortality." Very few words which he has employed 
 have since then gone out of use. It would be difficult to find 
 three or four instances ; pleige, marri, envieilli. But, by 
 the effect of that insensible derivation which draws words 
 far from their first or etymological signification, the mean- 
 ing of several terms which Pascal uses in the Provincials 
 has much changed since his time. Against this effect of 
 
THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 225 
 
 time, genius can do something, but not everything. Pascal 
 has stopped on this descent far more words than we can 
 know. He has employed some words in such a way as to 
 make it impossible that they should ever signify aught else 
 than they signified under his pen. But he could not arrest 
 them all at this point. The following passages will show 
 you some of those words on whose destiny time has prevailed 
 over Pascal : 
 
 u When discourses are opposed to discourses, those which 
 are true and convincing confound and dissipate those 
 which have only vanity and falsehood." Instead of dis- 
 courses (discours), we should now say reasonings (raisonne- 
 ments). 
 
 "I should have renounced Jesus Christ and His Church, 
 if I did not detest their conduct, and that publicly." Detest 
 (detestais), that is, bear testimony against, disavow (desa- 
 vouais). 
 
 u He offered me several of them, which did not agree with 
 me ;" — which had no relation to my position. 
 
 " Your superiors are rendered responsible for the errors 
 of all the particulars" that is, of all the individuals, mem- 
 bers of the Society. 
 
 "It only remains to me, in order to be catholic, to 
 approve of the excesses of your morality." The excesses 
 (les exces) for the laxity, the deviations (les ecarts, les 
 egarements). 
 
 " Who would not believe that these had been in fact im- 
 posed upon Father Bauny ?" " What falsehood to impose 
 these terms on general councils!" To ascribe falsely, gra- 
 tuitously. 
 
 " Some way which I admire without knowing it, and 
 
226 THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 
 
 I pray you to declare it to me ;" — to indicate, show, point 
 out. 
 
 " Do not interrupt me, for the sequence even of it is con- 
 siderable" Sequence (suite) for order or connection ; con- 
 siderable for important, or worthy of attention. 
 
 Without much search, you might find others. These I 
 have collected without seeking for them. 
 
 The Provincials are become again a work of importance. 
 This is a fortunate circumstance. They will be re-read, and 
 this model will resume, not its former honours, which have 
 never been abolished, but its literary influence, the part 
 which of right belongs to it in the education of talent. 
 Masterpiece of discussion and of style, it will reclaim its 
 share in our attention and in our study from the works 
 which seem to have usurped all our admiration, and which, 
 though perhaps not less brilliant, are much less perfect. 
 The special glory of the writings of the great age is justness 
 in the beauty, and measure in the strength. It is by this 
 admirable tempering that they have become classical. We 
 may enjoy as much, and more, the reading of other writings; 
 none will be so profitable to the mind and the taste as these ; 
 and I know not, after all, if our enjoyment will be less, 
 though it will be of a different kind. Take them for all in 
 all, nothing has taken the place of the Provincials. Between 
 antiquity and the present time, this book remains unique, 
 with none like it. However high above Pascal we may 
 choose to exalt the Socratism of Plato, the mockery of 
 Lucian, the irony of Voltaire, the sarcasm of Junius, the 
 causticity of Paul-Louis Courier, all this, be it better or less 
 than Pascal, is not Pascal ; and polemics is entirely in his 
 hand. Pascal is polemics itself. Rousseau and Lamennais, 
 
THE PROVINCIALS OF PASCAL. 227 
 
 and several others, whom the polemics of the day have 
 rendered really illustrious, ask me if I forget them. Not at 
 all. But without detracting from them, it is not to them, 
 but to Pascal, and for reasons merely literary, that I should 
 first send young minds who wish to learn at once the diffi- 
 cult art of discussing, and the not less difficult art of writing. 
 If I had succeeded in attracting any such into this path, I 
 should not regret, either on their account or my own, the 
 length of this study. 
 
228 JACQUELINE PASCAL. 
 
 VIIL 
 
 JACQUELINE PASCAL. 
 
 Obedience is a blank in the modern programme of human 
 life and social progress ; and we can scarcely explain how 
 the word has been retained, unless by supposing that it has 
 found in the world some improper and erroneous applica- 
 tion. People do not always have their own will, or all their 
 will; they often do the w T ill of others. In this respect 
 nothing is changed, and there is still obedience in the world, 
 if to yield is to obey. But where is the principle even of 
 obedience ? Who is there that makes obedience a duty ? 
 We might say, in a sense, that the present generation has 
 lost it. It has been said also, that this loss has been so- 
 much the less in favour of liberty, as liberty, true and 
 worthy liberty, is always proportioned to obedience ; their 
 principle, in the bottom of the soul, being one and the same 
 principle, and the two currents springing, so to speak, 
 from one and the same source. This consideration gives us 
 a measure of the moral decline of our age. Obedience is 
 retiring with hasty steps, drawing with her liberty, her 
 sister. They are not yet, thanks be to God, out of sight ; 
 but he must hasten who w r ould make up with them. 
 Their majestic figures are already half-down beyond the 
 horizon. 
 
 There is no obedience where there is no religion. That 
 is a truth ascertained by experience and common sense. 
 
JACQUELINE PASCAL. 229 
 
 Religion is an obedience, and the only principle of obedience ; 
 and all that can remain of this latter in a world or in a 
 heart whence religion is withdrawn, is but the impression 
 still subsisting of the old empire of God over the con- 
 science; a remainder, still perceptible, of a first impulse 
 which is exhausted. 
 
 Amid the too general neglect of this rule, and the decline 
 of this power, it is pleasing to discover in the past, and still 
 more blessed to meet in the present, illustrious or obscure 
 examples of this virtue of obedience. Above all, we are 
 pleased with those examples which show obedience at its 
 source, or in the first, the loftiest, and the most righteous of 
 its applications. This satisfaction is but little disturbed by 
 some aberrations more or less grave, which still leave the 
 principle intact. One is refreshed by the sight of those 
 beings who are absorbed by one only thought, that of serving 
 God, and who are more jealous of all that pertains to Him 
 than is the most complete miser of his wealth, or the most 
 suspicious despot of his power. This contemplation carries 
 back the soul, at least for a moment, to all its loftiness, and 
 affords it a transient perhaps, but a lively consciousness, of 
 its unchangeable destination, and its most essential relation. 
 Such is the impression which we receive from every example 
 of serious piety, of piety, we would say, penetrated by obedi- 
 ence. Such is, in particular, the great boon that we owe to 
 those accomplished masters of the spiritual life, the men and 
 the women of Port-Royal. But, perhaps, upon none of them 
 is this character more strongly impressed than upon the 
 humble nun whose memory has been revived, almost at the 
 same time, and as by concert, by M. Cousin and M. Faugere. 
 With the others, command was mingled with obedience ; and 
 
230 JACQUELINE PASCAL. 
 
 although the exercise of command was on their part still 
 obedience, yet pure submission in them does not so forcibly 
 strike any one who does not look at them very closely. 
 Whereas, in Jacqueline Pascal, all is manifestly submission; 
 all is converted into obedience ; her great talents, the little 
 of liberty that still remains to her, the energy of her will, 
 all being devoted only to will what God has willed, to such 
 an extent that it is in the share of authority that devolved 
 upon her that this feature of her character and her life, 
 obedience, is most prominent and most prevalent. 
 
 This volume (for, with some differences which we shall 
 point out, it is one book published by two editors) — this 
 volume was necessary to make us fully acquainted with the 
 great Christian school to which the author of the Provincials 
 belonged, and of which Port-Eoyal is but the highest ex- 
 pression and the fullest development. The doctrinal books 
 which it produced, and the great features of its history, do 
 not tell us all. Details, accidents, disclose better the inner 
 thought, the spirit, the life. That this school betook itself 
 to seriousness, no one ever thought of doubting. But to 
 what extent it did this, and to what extremities people were 
 consistent in this lofty region of Catholicism, we cannot 
 fully learn but by listening at the gates ; and that is what 
 we do, when we read, whether in M. Faugere's or in M. 
 Cousin's volume, the life and correspondence of Jacqueline 
 Pascal. 
 
 In truth, not Jacqueline alone, but all the members of this 
 great family, stand by turns before us. Perhaps there is, in 
 certain families, a bright moment — a moment never to return, 
 when the type of the race, slowly elaborated, attains the 
 degree of energy and perfection to which it was destined, 
 
JACQUELINE PASCAL. 231 
 
 stamps its clear and deep impress on two or three coins, and 
 then is broken for ever. Such appears to have been the case 
 with Blaise and Jacqueline Pascal, two precious vessels which 
 were broken by the boiling in them of truth and genius and 
 feeling. The covering was found too weak, as perhaps any 
 other would have been, to resist the internal effort. Blaise died 
 at thirty-nine years of age, Jacqueline three years younger. 
 This short term was sufficient for them to give to the world 
 great examples which shall never perish. 
 
 We feel an admiration more complete and more respectful 
 for her than for him. We doubt whether we have any- 
 where met a character of man, or even of woman, more 
 complete than that of Jacqueline. Had we to do with one 
 of those peaceful and naturally submissive souls, for whom 
 regulation is a rest, we should speak otherwise ; but such as 
 was the sister of Pascal, she became by means of a combat, 
 a victory, and that one of the most difficult, as also one of 
 the most complete, that ever were. It may be asked if, in 
 order to obey so exactly when one is thus constituted, it be 
 not necessary to turn towards obedience the passion which 
 was directed otherwise. But every passion is indocile. If 
 it do obey, it will obey at all events to excess. But it is not 
 thus that the sister of Pascal obeyed. She knew not that 
 cunning manner of "finding her own pleasure," as says the 
 prophet, in disobeying by the strength of her obedience. 
 She obeyed peacefully, holily, exactly (yet strenuously) ; 
 that is to say that she obeyed; and we cannot tell with 
 what grace (we must be allowed to use the word) she dis- 
 plays, on certain occasions, an authority of language which 
 proves without dispute that, according to nature, she was 
 born, more than any one, for command, and would have 
 
232 JACQUELINE PASCAL. 
 
 exercised it with incomparable vigour, if she had not, ac- 
 cording to grace, been born for obedience. 
 
 And she is quite a woman. Nothing allows us to forget 
 this, and she never forgets it herself. No one of her sex 
 had ever a manlier character. Madame Roland would 
 have taught her nothing. Her thought is not less manly 
 than her character ; and yet we are never tempted to say 
 that she comes out of her sex. No : she never does so. 
 All this strength is pervaded by feminine grace and tender- 
 ness. We were reminded, while reading her Life and 
 Letters, of that fine line which a modern addresses to the 
 prince of poets, — 
 
 " Still thou wert man, we feel it by thy tears." 
 We feel also, by her tears perhaps, or by something still 
 more touching even than tears, that the sister of Pascal, 
 his mother also we might say, was profoundly a woman. 
 She is more so than any one of the strong women whom the 
 history of the Church or of the world recommends to our 
 just respect. Her life is that of a strong woman, her death 
 that of a woman. She dies of grief for having — on the faith 
 of her brother, of the great Arnaud, of all that was illustrious 
 at Port-Royal — taken part in a transaction which they all 
 considered honest, but in which the exquisite delicacy of 
 her moral sense had detected a slight equivocation. What 
 strength and what weakness in such a death ! But it is not 
 the Christian, it is the woman that succumbs, pressed down 
 under the weight of her own courage. This grief, this 
 death, this whole soul so tender and so mighty, what a 
 subject for the poet who knew so well to compel us with the 
 tears of Racine to mingle our own, and for whom, of a 
 long time, Port-Royal and its inner life have no secrets ! 
 
JACQUELINE PASCAL. 233 
 
 In order to estimate the extent and the value of the 
 sacrifices which Jacqueline had made in renouncing the 
 world and herself, we must, after the Training for Children, 
 read the letter to the Mother Angelica of St John, upon the 
 signing of the formulary. " We ask (with M. Cousin) of 
 all who still retain some feeling of energy of character, and 
 of the beauty of disinterested convictions, — we ask of them 
 if they know many pages grander and more energetic." 
 But what we desire especially to notice is the authority, let 
 us venture to say the boldness of language, which Jacqueline 
 never allowed herself on her own personal account, and of 
 which she would never have been believed to be capable, if 
 the perils to which truth was exposed had not compelled her 
 to throw off her inviolable reserve. By favour of this un- 
 expected opening nature escapes, character for a moment 
 claims its rights, and the loftiness of heart of the Pascals 
 appears entire in these words : — " I know well that it is not 
 for girls to defend the truth, though it might be said, by a 
 sad mischance, that since the bishops have the courage of 
 girls, the girls ought to have the courage of bishops." Such 
 a life, long buried in the shade under the influence of idle- 
 ness, of sickness, or of piety, is awakened, like that of the 
 great Conde, by a battle of Senef. But there must be 
 the opportunity. Without it there can be no awakening, 
 no revelation. And all great souls have not had, at the 
 commencement of their career, a Eocroy to put their great- 
 ness for ever beyond the risk of doubt. What is the 
 Eocroy of Jacqueline Pascal? An internal victory of which 
 God was the sole witness, and which owes the better part of 
 its greatness to the obscurity in which it is enveloped. To 
 
 obliterate herself, and then to obliterate even the least traces 
 
 u 
 
234 JACQUELINE PASCAL. 
 
 of the obliteration, had been, for some years, the task of this 
 heroic girl. She had believed it to be her duty, in parti- 
 cular, to mortify her fine intellect. But she had not been 
 able to separate herself from it ; and she neither did nor 
 wrote anything which does not bear intellectually the stamp 
 of superiority. Still nothing is comparable, in this respect, 
 to the letter on the formulary. Precision, sagacity, vigour 
 of dialectics, energy of language, all that constitutes eloquence 
 is there, and stands out boldly on an admirable ground of 
 humility. 
 
 From this agitated scene, where she scarcely shows her- 
 self, and shows herself only for a moment, we gladly follow 
 Pascal's sister into the habitual sphere of her thoughts and 
 her labours. This world is still more extraordinary than 
 that in which we have just admired her. This world, apart 
 from the world, is not only the monastery : it is a group 
 of individuals and of families ; it is a distinct portion of 
 French society of the period ; it is that portion of the 
 Catholic church, to which, subsequently, the name of a 
 man, or of a book, was given, but which certainly does not 
 proceed either from the book or the man. It is, if you will, 
 a spiritual and ascetic school which Catholicism has dis- 
 avowed, and which obstinately refuses to disavow Catholi- 
 cism. The life of Jacqueline Pascal, the memoirs of her 
 sister and of her niece, procure for us an entrance, and give 
 us at least as much acquaintance with it as the pious 
 writings of the Nicoles, the St Cyrans, the Quesnels, the 
 Duguets. We learn not only how they thought, but how 
 they lived in this little church, born of the Spirit. Can it 
 be true that man cannot give account of himself, and take 
 knowledge of himself, without exaggerating himself, and 
 
JACQUELINE PASCAL. 235 
 
 that this exaggeration is the weakness of the strong? 
 Many facts, individually and collectively, seem to conspire 
 to make us believe so. One of these is the asceticism of the 
 religious school to which the sisters of Pascal, and Pascal 
 himself, belonged. No other has ever more loftily professed, 
 or better put in practice, the voluntary and deliberate devo- 
 tion of the creature to the Creator. No other ever had 
 more grief for, or abhorrence of, sin. There seems to have 
 been a contest, in these strong and pious souls, between 
 love of God and hatred of themselves ; and although we 
 cannot say that the latter prevails in them over the former, 
 we may believe that the second, the hatred of self, is the 
 special key-note of the piety of the Jansenists. It might be 
 supposed that in their estimation God is not sufficiently 
 avenged; and. the Christian, without hope of completing 
 this vengeance — (mark this point) — continues it, and follows 
 after it. Though life were naturally a punishment, all 
 must be done to aggravate it. If it be not, it must become 
 such. The apostolic maxim, " Use the world as not using* 
 it," is not sufficient for this school. It takes for its motto 
 u Use not." Too spiritual not to know that it is vain to 
 withdraw from the world if we do not first withdraw from 
 ourselves, it does not admit the one without the other ; and 
 the life of the faithful becomes, in every sense, a long fare- 
 well to life. St Paul, while rendering just homage to 
 Christian celibacy, had declared that u marriage is always 
 honourable," Pascal pronounces it a the most perillous and 
 the lowest of the conditions of Christianity ;" and on this 
 ground alone, he dissuades from it one of his nieces. His 
 brother-in-law, M. Perier, habitually wears a girdle armed 
 * Abusing? — Tbans. 
 
23G JACQUELINE PASCAL, 
 
 inside with iron spikes, of which, through humility, he 
 makes a secret. Secretly, also, he puts a plank into his 
 bed, which, for this reason, he always make3 himself. 
 Mental enjoyments are, in the eyes of some of these Chris- 
 tians, another species of sensuality or luxury, and they 
 sedulously retrench this superfluity, which remains permitted 
 only to those who have no taste for it. To say all in one 
 word, they have no bond connecting them with this world 
 and its inhabitants but that of love. This cable alone 
 holds them to the shore; all others have been cut. In 
 their estimation, a man is still of the world as long as, with 
 substantial, humble, and practical piety, he still lives the 
 common life. To renounce it is the true, the only conver- 
 sion. One sole object, one sole thought, one sole work ; — 
 such is the rule, such the spirit of the piety of Port-KoyaL 
 And if you would gain at once a lively and a freezing view 
 of this life, you have only to read, in Jacqueline Pascal, 
 the picture of the education of the little girls entrusted to 
 her care, the description of one of their days. You will feel 
 yourself seized at once with veneration and with shuddering. 
 M. Cousin has some very just observations on this subject, 
 from which we would make no abatement. We would 
 rather confine ourselves to adding, that what is not perfect 
 as a model may be admirable as a symbol. It seems to us 
 that w T e ought to congratulate ourselves, that, with all their 
 imperfections and all their excesses, such examples have 
 been given us. For our part, we are less struck, in all this, 
 with the evil than with the good, with the false than with 
 the true. Whatever may be said, the good and the true 
 prevail. If man must deceive himself, it is better that he 
 deceive himself thus ; and if there is offence, it is less given 
 
JACQUELINE PASCAL. 237 
 
 than taken. This life forcibly represents, even though 
 metaphor be too much mixed with the direct sense, the 
 true relation of man, the true feelings which are produced 
 by repentance, the true greatness and the true beauty of 
 human life. I should not speak in this way if I perceived, 
 in the asceticism of Port-Koyal, two errors of which, I con- 
 fess, asceticism is alternately the cause and the effect : — I 
 mean the mercenary spirit, and the lamentable prejudice 
 which places the principle of sin in matter, or in the flesh. 
 There is nothing of this sort here. Jansenism is perhaps 
 on the border, but not on the slope, of this abyss. Every- 
 thing in this piety appears to me spiritual, substantial, 
 serious. The sublime fantastical is not in use. The virtues 
 which it practises are those of utility and good sense. It 
 rests, in its human relations, on justice and charity ; and 
 its moralitv is not an exact and ingenious mechanism, 
 but a flexible and living organism. In a word, these extra- 
 ordinary characters are nought else, in daily practice, than 
 devout lovers of God and of their neighbour. 
 
 Since I have spoken of the penances of M. Perier, I 
 should like to make him known to you in some other aspect. 
 The following trait of character will compensate, I doubt 
 not, for the girdle and the wooden bed. I leave his 
 daughter, Marguerite Perier, to speak : 
 
 " Two days before his death, he did a deed which deserves 
 to be recorded. There was at Clermont a treasurer of 
 France, whose family was indebted to M. Perier to a large 
 amount. My father, seeing that this debt was on the point 
 of prescription, wished to take some step to prevent its lapse. 
 He went to see this treasurer, to beg that he would not take 
 it amiss if he made some demonstration. This man acted in 
 
238 JACQUELINE PASCAL. 
 
 an unworthy manner, and made in the world bitter and 
 very injurious complaints against him. These were reported 
 to my father, who said that a man must be excused who is 
 unfortunate in his circumstances. About eight days after, 
 there came news from Paris that the treasurers were to be 
 obliged to pay a tax of 10,000 livres ; failing which, they 
 should lose their situations. My father told this to my 
 mother, and added, i Here is a man ruined ; I should like 
 to offer him some money.' My mother said to him, c Do 
 what you will; but you see how much this family is in- 
 debted to you.' He said no more ; but next day he went 
 in search of this treasurer, and asked him whether he had 
 heard the news, and what he had determined upon. ' I 
 must/ replied the treasurer, i give up my situation ; for you 
 see well that I shall not find 10,000 francs.' My father said 
 to him, 6 No, sir, you shall not give it up. I have 10,000 
 francs, which I will lend you.' This man was so surprised 
 that he said, weeping : i You must, sir, be a good Christian, 
 for I have spoken evil ol you, and I know that you are not 
 ignorant of it.' My father told us nothing of all this, which 
 took place on Monday the 21st of February; and he died 
 suddenly at seven o'clock in the morning of Wednesda}^ 
 the 23rd. The'treasurer, having heard of his death, came to 
 the house, crying, weeping, and saying, 'I have lost my 
 father ;' and he told us all that had passed on the Monday." 
 Every one will be struck with the simplicity, almost 
 biblical, of this narration. What I wish to point out is the 
 extreme reserve and moderation of the expression. It is 
 the style of this piety. It has no outpouring but towards 
 God. On every other subject it restrains itself; and the 
 habit being once formed, there is no more any need even 
 
JACQUELINE PASCAL. 239 
 
 of restraint. The barrier is no longer threatened even by 
 the nearest interests or the liveliest emotions. This sobriety, 
 all pious and holy, in the expression of its natural feelings, 
 is not only a discipline respectable in its principle ; it is a 
 judicious and salutary economy. We expend ourselves in 
 expressing ourselves. Never without an " evident miracle/' 
 which will never be performed, shall it be possible to say of 
 the soul what the poet has said of a marvellous cup : 
 
 " The more the cup was turned, the less it empty got." 
 
 Every vessel is emptied by discharging it ; and, up to a 
 certain point, what is true of a vessel is true of the heart. 
 The soul has its excesses, which weaken it as other excesses 
 weaken the body ; and reserved men, when this reserve is 
 not the mask of barrenness, preserve their souls as temperate 
 men preserve their bodies. This reserve, even, is ordinarily 
 a guarantee and a principle of strength. What we say of 
 individuals may be said equally of epochs and of literatures. 
 In their case also, when the sap runs over, we know that 
 the tree is weakened. Though all this should be denied, it 
 would still remain certain that nothing is so impressive as 
 a heart-word on the part of one who is sparing of such as a 
 matter of duty. We are touched at once by what he says, 
 and by what he does not say. When Marguerite Perier 
 concludes her Memoirs of her family with these simple 
 words : — " Behold what was the life of all the members of 
 my family ! I remain alone. They have all died in an 
 inextinguishable love for truth. . . . God forbid that I 
 should ever think of departing from it;" — we are moved to 
 the bottom of our hearts, and are thankful to her for having 
 so little drained the vase. 
 
240 JACQUELINE PASCAL. 
 
 When giving account, last year, of the theology of Pascal, 
 the most human, in our opinion, of all the theologies, we 
 protested against the inhumanity of one part of his morals, 
 which is essentially that of Jacqueline and Port-Royal. 
 We may be allowed, after this, to say that the natural affec- 
 tions remained deep in these noble hearts, which the love of 
 God had exercised in all love. Ah ! well ! there is some- 
 thing that crushes the heart in that article of training in 
 which Jacqueline forbids to the poor little girls, brought up 
 together, the least mutual caresses and even simple contact ; 
 and we allow those w r ho admit that such strictness is sublime 
 in its principle, to condemn it as excessive. But this train- 
 ing itself, with what eyes can it be read without seeing that 
 it is full of the most heart-felt tenderness, and the attentions of 
 the most delicate love ? Who could read, I say not without 
 respect, I say without tenderness, the relation of Jacqueline 
 on the difficulties w r hich her entrance into religion met with 
 on the part of her family, and especially of her brother ? 
 The letter on the formulary is not, in its way, more admir- 
 able than this, and the one gives value to the other. We 
 cannot, and we will not, tell the whole : but let us quote 
 one word. The subject is " the reasons of chicane" which 
 the relatives of Jacqueline opposed to the design which she 
 had formed of offering to the community of Port-Royal the 
 compensation to which they were entitled, by right or usage, 
 in return for her maintenance. * I know r well (says she) 
 that strictly these reasons w^ere true, but we had not been 
 accustomed to use them together." Never was complaint 
 more reserved, more tender, nor more sad. But you should 
 read this long letter, whose very length, induced by holy 
 respect and by gratitude, completes the picture of Port- 
 
JACQUELINE PASCAL. 241 
 
 Koyal, and is in other respects, in some passages, full of 
 a serious gracefulness. The Christianity which we study 
 is there in all its beauty, and in all the sweetness of its 
 healthful perfume. 
 
 We are attempting, with a painful feeling of our insuffi- 
 ciency, to supply what M. Cousin, as we think, ought to 
 have added to the moral observations, of which we do not 
 dispute the justness. When he seeks, for the nineteenth 
 century, a path between " the sublime but extravagant de- 
 votion of the seventeenth, and the free but impious philoso- 
 phy of the eighteenth," he does not, perhaps, wish to keep 
 us at equal distance from the two ; but it appears so. This 
 devotion of the seventeenth century is not only sublime, it 
 is fundamentally true; and but for this it would not be 
 sublime. Although error holds too much place in it, and 
 even on points which M. Cousin could not indicate, the 
 true, we repeat, prevails much over the false. Among the 
 awakenings of which the history of Christianity has preserved 
 the record, assuredly this is one of the finest. We have 
 yielded to the necessity of expressing, as we felt it, a truth 
 to which M. Cousin has not accorded the homage or the 
 support of his admirable language. But we might have 
 dispensed with it. M. Faugere had anticipated us. We 
 find, at the end of his Introduction, the following passage, as 
 excellent in style as in thought : 
 
 " This zeal, it is true, was not always as enlightened as it 
 was faithful and fervent. On more than one occasion they 
 exaggerated the maxims and the practices of religion beyond 
 reasonable bounds, and forgot that the destiny of man here 
 below is to unite the life of action with the life of contem- 
 plation ; that the conduct of a truly Christian soul does not 
 
242 JACQUELINE PASCAL. 
 
 consist in sacrificing the one to the other, but in regulating 
 the one by the other, and in uniting them in that fair pro- 
 portion, the inquiry after which is that after perfection itself. 
 But all the passions, those even whose source is the purest, 
 have their inevitable excesses ; and it is better to respect the 
 exaggerations of virtue than to undertake the easy task of 
 calling attention to them, and to enjoy the pleasure of tri- 
 umphing over them. Ordinarily it is not to the side of 
 heaven that the hearts of men are most inclined, and it is 
 not there that morality is most in danger. And then is it 
 not in the order of Providence that there are always ex- 
 traordinary souls devoted to the worship of the true, the 
 beautiful, the holy, the absolute ideal? Yes; it is well 
 that it should be so, in order that humanity may never for- 
 get the titles of its dignity and its moral greatness, and, 
 according to the expression of a sceptical philosopher (Bayle), 
 in order to prevent the usurpation of the spirit of the world 
 to the exclusion of the spirit of the Gospel." 
 
 The two works whose titles stand at the head of this 
 article are very similar, and yet very different. They relate 
 to the same subject, and are composed of the same materials. 
 The memoirs by Madame Perier of her sister Jacqueline ; 
 the poetry of Jacqueline ; her training for the young girls 
 educated at Port-Royal ; her reflections on the mystery of 
 the death of Jesus Christ; her interrogatory; her letters, are 
 found textuaUy and complete in both works. The differ- 
 ences are as follow. M. Cousin does not appear as a simple 
 editor. His book, formed, in great part, of the writings of 
 Jacqueline Pascal, is not the less a book on this remarkable 
 woman, a book in which the quotations come as facts, or as 
 points of support, framed in some of the finest and most 
 
JACQUELINE PASCAL. 243 
 
 touching pages that we owe to the eloquent pen of M. 
 Cousin. The publication of M. Faugere is, as its title indi- 
 cates, a complete collection of the writings of the three 
 ladies of the family of Pascal, — his two sisters, Gilberte and 
 Jacqueline, and his niece Marguerite Perier. What belongs 
 to M. Faugere, in this beautiful volume, the natural and in- 
 dispensable complement of his edition of the Thoughts, is an 
 introduction very worthy of perusal, a great number of 
 notes, and, above all, the restoration of the text. This 
 restoration, whose importance, as might be supposed, is not 
 only bibliographical, is not the only advantage that distin- 
 guishes this edition. It is fuller and richer than that of M. 
 Cousin, who, in fact, intended only to make a book upon 
 Jacqueline Pascal, and who has made it with a superiority 
 which will surprise no one. M. Faugere' s volume contains, 
 over and above that of M. Cousin, several considerable 
 fragments, we might say entire works, of which M. Cousin 
 has detached some pages, but the entire reproduction of 
 which could not enter into the plan of his book. To say 
 that the Life of Pascal, by Madame Perier (52 pages), and 
 the Memoirs of Marguerite Perier on her family, and espe- 
 cially her brother (about 50 pages), are the chief, though 
 not the only pieces which M. Faugere has included in his 
 larger plan, is sufficiently to mark one of the distinctive 
 merits of this publication. It ought, for the sake of exact- 
 ness, to be stated, that that of the illustrious academician 
 contains, exclusively, some other fragments, one or two of 
 which were previously unpublished, but of little extent and 
 inferior value. 
 
 The Life of Pascal, by Madame Perier, has been more 
 than once printed before the Thoughts. This excellent 
 
244 JACQUELINE PASCAL. 
 
 piece is, notwithstanding, unknown to a great number of 
 the admirers of Pascal ; and its reprint, which entered natu- 
 rally into the plan of M. Faugere, is a real service rendered 
 to the public. With no less pleasure, we think, the public 
 will welcome Marguerite's memoirs. Besides that she is of 
 the family, — and this truly is evident, — these memoirs are 
 instructive and curious. They are an additional light cast 
 upon a society and upon manners of which we could not, by 
 the help of some general data, form a sufficiently correct idea. 
 There are always, in evil as in good, things which cannot 
 be anticipated. Who would expect, for example, to see the 
 pious and learned M. Pascal, the father of Blaise, lend his 
 ear to a sorceress, and follow some of her counsels ? It is 
 paternal love that induces him to hear advices, which, more- 
 over, he has not sought. But the same interest, as keenly 
 felt, would now-a-days drive but few people, and less than 
 any one else a Christian, to the same course. It is a detail 
 of manners that make us blush, less for Stephen Pascal than 
 for humanity. We also have our superstitions and our 
 manias. We also believe in occult powers. Shall I add, 
 that we are not afraid of owing something to the prince of 
 darkness ? Gross errors become subtle errors ; prejudices 
 give place to systems, other prejudices. Evil is exhibited 
 without being personified. On this subject many reflections 
 might be made. We prefer only to add, that the living 
 light which destroyed so much darkness is not extinguished, 
 has not paled, and that from the eternal east there still 
 rises for us, at the hour of a new morning, the eternal sun 
 of humanity. 
 
ABRIDGMENT OF THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 245 
 
 IX. 
 
 ABRIDGMENT OF THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 With what interest, with w T hat joy, have w r e not witnessed 
 the restoration of the text of the Thoughts I An additional 
 satisfaction of the same kind, and wholly unexpected, was 
 in preparation for the admirers of Pascal. M. Faugere, to 
 whom all that concerns this great man, and all that remains 
 of him, seems as it were of itself to gravitate, has had the 
 well-deserved good fortune to discover an unpublished piece 
 from this immortal pen. It is a Life of Jesus Christ, com- 
 posed, without any kind of pretension, with a child-like sim- 
 plicity, and generally in the words of the Gospel. It is 
 doubtless enough that this w r ork, whatever it may be, come 
 to us from the author of the Thoughts, that it may deserve 
 to be published. But Pascal could not wholly conceal him- 
 self. Individuality jets out unexpectedly, and personal elo- 
 quence mingles itself involuntarily with that of facts and 
 memories. Take an example of it. 
 
 " The same day, being warned to beware of Herod, He 
 answers, f Tell that fox that my consummation draweth near.' 
 And this Lion of the tribe of Judah announced to that fox 
 that He was going stedfastly up to Jerusalem. He then 
 wept over Jerusalem, saying, l Oh Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! 
 how often would I have gathered thy children, and thou 
 wouldst not V But notwithstanding her opposition, He did 
 it when He would." 
 
246 ABRIDGMENT OF THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 We ought not to regard M. Faugere as an imitator of 
 that freed-man of Pompey, collecting at random on the sea- 
 shore the dried spoils of twenty shipwrecks, in order to form 
 a funeral-pile for his dead general. He estimates at their 
 intrinsic value, and according to their moral usefulness, all 
 those fragments of which he still would not be at liberty to 
 withhold the most insignificant from our pious curiosity. 
 On this occasion he rejoices to have something to give us of 
 Pascal, worthy of that great man, and of the monument 
 which he had wished to erect. 
 
 " Pascal (says he) has been much celebrated as a mathe- 
 matical genius and a calculator. Still he was specially a 
 man of feeling. It is by the heart, even more than by the 
 reason, that he is great, and remains for ever in possession 
 of the sympathy and the admiration of men, 
 
 " It is easy to understand how his soul, so impassioned 
 for moral beauty, must have been captivated by the Divine 
 soul of the Saviour of men, and how he was seized with the 
 desire to retrace, after so many others, the touching and 
 marvellous biography of the Man-God. The Abridgment 
 of the Life of Jesus Christ w T as very probably written, like 
 what remains to us of the Apology for Religion, in Pascal's 
 last years. It is only another imperfect sketch ; but this 
 sketch is that of genius, and the hand of a master is dis- 
 played even in those sketches sometimes scarcely formed, in 
 those notes half written, which the author put down hastily, 
 in order that he might find again the traces of thoughts which 
 he purposed to develop. Some words in \he preface, in which 
 Pascal addresses the reader, seem to indicate that he intended 
 to publish the Life of Jesus Christ. He doubtless considered 
 such a work as the complement, or rather as the essential 
 
ABRIDGMENT OF THE LIFE OF JESUS CHRIST. 247 
 
 introduction, of his Apology for Religion. But the earthly- 
 life of man is always too short for his designs and his hopes ; 
 for this work also time failed Pascal, and every page recalls 
 to us the recollection of his existence so prematurely crushed 
 under the weight of suffering and of genius, — a recollection 
 which adds an unspeakable degree of melancholy to the 
 picture that he drew of himself, when he defined man as 
 a thinking reed." 
 
 M. Faugere has also found Pascal's will ; and he has 
 done well to publish it, even although there is perhaps no- 
 thing more remarkable in this production than that there is 
 so little in it that is remarkable. Any upright and grateful 
 man might have left, like Pascal, pious legacies to faithful 
 servants ; and no dying Catholic would have said less of his 
 faith than the author of the Thoughts here says of his. 
 Many readers, on hearing Pascal " implore the intercession 
 of the glorious Virgin Mary, and all the male and female 
 saints of paradise," will be scandalised, and will cry out 
 about his inconsistency. But who, among them and us, is 
 wholly consistent in religious matters? Probably no one. 
 As regards Pascal, we have a strong confidence that, though 
 here expressing a sincere persuasion on the subject of the 
 Virgin and the saints, he rested his faith and his hope 
 straight on the only and true foundation. If it be insisted 
 on that there is here a contradiction in terms, a contradic- 
 tion even in notions, — be it so. We shall not dispute the 
 point. We are satisfied with our own conviction that there 
 was no contradiction in his heart. 
 
248 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 X. 
 
 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON M. V. COUSIN'S ESSAY ON 
 THE THOUGHTS OF PASCAL. 
 
 I. 
 
 We must begin by thanking M. Cousin. The difficult and 
 fatiguing labour to which he has devoted himself prepares, 
 and in great part completes, the restoration of a text whose 
 purity concerns all the admirers of Pascal's genius, and all 
 the friends of the national literature. He deserves thanks 
 also for his jealousy for that beautiful French language 
 which he knows and writes so well, and for the excellent 
 literary maxims which the examination of Pascal's style has 
 given him the opportunity to propound. Behold a career 
 open to all those w r ho, full of the same respect for the 
 masterpieces of our literature, would wish to consecrate, in 
 normal editions, a perfectly pure text of our classics, and to 
 establish, as M. Cousin has done for Pascal, the share in 
 the formation of the language that belongs to each of our 
 great writers. For, equally removed from rashness and 
 superstition, every classical writer enriches, perfects the 
 idiom, or, if you prefer it, turns it to new account, derives 
 from it some advantage previously unknown. The impulse 
 given by M. Cousin will not stop; the other classics will have 
 their turn. Meantime we have a good book the more, and 
 modern literature is enriched with some of its finest pages by 
 
M. v. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 249 
 
 means of a work of pure criticism, with which, although it 
 had been extremely dry, we should have had no right to 
 find fault for its dryness. In the hands of the accomplished 
 adept, the brass has become gold ; or, to speak more exactly, 
 where so many others would have perceived only brass, he 
 has been able to find gold. Talent does not consist in 
 covering a subject with strange spoils, but in stripping 
 it of all that really concealed it from the knowledge of the 
 world. 
 
 There is no occasion now to inform our readers of what 
 this volume is composed. The author has only added an 
 eloquent preface to the report which he made last year to 
 the French Academy, on the autograph manuscript of the 
 Thoughts. No one needs seek in that report an act of ac- 
 cusation against the first editors of these immortal pages. 
 Severity with respect to thern would have been inconsiderate; 
 and every one will consider the moderation of M. Cousin, 
 in all these respects, judicious. Besides that their intention 
 was evidently honest and disinterested, which debars us from 
 applying even to the most important alterations the dis- 
 graceful epithet of unfaithfulness, it ought to be stated that 
 the duties of an editor were not understood then as they are 
 now. The external form of an author was so little accounted 
 sacred, that there was no scruple in modifying, in order to 
 bring them into accord with the public, writers with whom 
 the form was almost all, was the very foundation. With 
 each successive editor, Joinville lost some portions of what 
 was then disdainfully called the old Gaulish. Marot, in 
 editing Villon, made him, as nearly as possible, a cotempo- 
 rary of the chevalier-king. For a long time there was a 
 contempt of the old French ; and, in general, so much the 
 
250 LITEEAEY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 less importance was ascribed to the form of a book, as its 
 matter was more substantial or important. We have many 
 reasons, fortunate and unfortunate, to look more closely into 
 the matter ; but we may be assured that the cotemporaries 
 of Louis XIV. would have taken but little offence, and felt 
 little surprise, at the sight of most of those alterations, sacri- 
 legious in our estimation, which the work of Pascal has 
 undergone. There are some of them, however, which they 
 could not have approved. For us, the public of the nine- 
 teenth century, all, or nearly all, are enormities ; and I ac- 
 knowledge that, except the very few which M. Cousin him- 
 self thinks may be pardoned, not one ought to have been 
 permitted. 
 
 Be it as it may, after reading the new book, I look sadly 
 on my two copies of the Thoughts, saying to myself, I pos- 
 sess Pascal no more. I can no more, truly, either read or 
 open him. I wait till M. Cousin, or some other friend of 
 French literature, have given us the new text ; till then 
 this famous book is in our libraries without being in them, 
 and it will disappear from them when the new edition shall 
 have appeared. Still let us not exaggerate. We had not 
 the Thoughts of Pascal, but we had his thought. It will be 
 better defined in the edition which we are led to hope for ; 
 the outlines will be bolder and more lively, but that is all. 
 M. Cousin may have written, on the occasion of his dis- 
 covery, very fine pages on the Pyrrhonism of the Thoughts, 
 and against Pyrrhonism in general ; and he may have said 
 to this old enemy of philosophy, 
 
 u It is my happy lot to meet thee here ;" 
 But, to speak the truth, all that he has said on this subject 
 he might have said long ago. If we were to believe him, 
 
M. v. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 251 
 
 there was only perceptible in the old editions some shadow 
 of the Pyrrhonism of Pascal, and this Pyrrhonism appears 
 openly for the first time in those fragments which have just 
 been published. (Preface, p. xviii.) Such is not our 
 opinion. The Pascal of the Duke of Roannez, the Pascal of 
 the Abbe Bossut, is neither more nor less Pyrrhonistic 
 than the Pascal of the manuscript. Yet it might be sup- 
 posed, from the earnestness with which M. Cousin argues 
 it, that the Pyrrhonism of the author of the Thoughts was 
 buried deep in the autograph manuscript, till these new 
 diggings disinterred it. But be it as it may, we are not dis- 
 pleased to see so valiant a champion break a lance in honour 
 of philosophy, now attacked by others than Pascal. The 
 design is honest, and the passage of arms brilliant. Still, in 
 the old tournaments they would not have ventured to pro- 
 claim the name of the conqueror, and to conduct him, with 
 his visor raised, along the scaffolds, if he had not fought in 
 accordance with all the rules. Has the modern knight of 
 philosophy, or of free thought, observed them all? I do 
 not know that he has. 
 
 In so far as he has touched with the point of his lance the 
 buckler of Pyrrhonism, defying it as a felon knight (felon, 
 however, only on one point, — I mean when, in the name of 
 absolute doubt, it draws a conclusion in favour of absolute 
 dogmatism), I can only applaud him. a I avoid a brazen- 
 faced man who preaches modesty," and I hate u like the 
 gates of hell" the Pyrrhonism which dogmatises. The con- 
 clusion which it allows itself, be it what it may, is exorbi- 
 tant, monstrous ; for it is a conclusion. Its faith is, at the 
 best, but a stroke of despair, an accident, a catastrophe, 
 Between Pyrrhonism and faith, there is a whole infinite. 
 
252 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 It is a strange rashness to commence by breaking all the 
 steps of the ladder by which we propose to climb. It is a 
 strange insolence to attempt to prove anything whatever, 
 after having annihilated all the elements of proof. The 
 modern Pyrrhonists, dogmatists at the bottom of their 
 hearts, have invented and kept in reserve an element of 
 certainty, one only, — viz., universal consent. But this ele- 
 ment they could not obtain but by making use of all the 
 others, and, consequently, by supposing them all. I have 
 no need, after this, to inquire with what success they have 
 established universal consent on any point. I do not in- 
 quire if their system, invented, they say, in the interest of 
 Christianity, is not a lie given to that religion, which repre- 
 sents the truth as the secret of a few, and for all others 
 foolishness. Lastly, I do not ask if the doctrine of universal 
 consent is not the most murderous, though the most indirect, 
 attack on the dignity of man, the holiness of God, and even 
 upon morality. Enceladus, crushed under his smoking 
 mountain, tells us more of it than I could tell. Pyrrhonism 
 is self-condemned. 
 
 Was Pascal a Pyrrhonist after the manner of the new 
 school \ Was he a Pyrrhonist at all ? He who said that 
 " nature confounds the Pyrrhonists," had he not found an 
 asylum against the excess of doubt which unlimited Pyrrhon- 
 ism would have refused him ? 
 
 What is this universal consent, except space and dura- 
 tion ? If it is not space and duration, if it is not fatality, 
 bondage, imbecility, this theory has no weight except in 
 virtue of reasoning such as the following : God cannot have 
 deceived, or left to fall into error, the whole of mankind. 
 Good or bad, this reasoning refers to a principle which is a 
 
m. y. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 253 
 
 different thing from universal consent ; and from that mo- 
 ment the great hypothesis is abandoned. Universal consent, 
 in its purity, is prejudice erected into a dogma, it is brute 
 force put in place of law, it is space and duration. But the 
 author "of the Thoughts, even according to the autograph 
 manuscript, does not wish that man should be exalted by 
 space and duration, but by thought, in which, he adds, " all 
 his dignity consists." I recall here that celebrated paragraph 
 of which there are (so M. Cousin informs us) three succes- 
 sive versions in the manuscript. When I see Pascal, in 
 this passage as in several others, wearying himself in seek- 
 ing for his thought the most perfect and the most solemn 
 form, this illustrious labour puts me in mind of two beautiful 
 lines of the eighteenth century — 
 
 " In the womb of the rocks, through long ages unseen, 
 Is brought to perfection the diamond's pure sheen ;" 
 
 And I feel at the same time that Pascal has provided means 
 of defence against the accusation that is now brought against 
 him. A thought which should be useless for the acquisition 
 of truth (and that is the hypothesis of Pyrrhonism), could 
 not constitute the dignity of man, and he could as well exalt 
 himself by space and duration. 
 
 After this, it will be matter of surprise to hear M. Cousin 
 declare that u the very foundation of Pascal's soul is a uni- 
 versal scepticism, against which he finds no asylum, but in 
 a faith voluntarily blind;" .... that "the difficulties 
 which he encountered his reason did not surmount, but his 
 will pushed aside; and that his last, his true answer, is 
 that he will not have annihilation." Are these assertions 
 correct ? 
 
254 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 The faith of Pascal would be, in fact, voluntarily blind, 
 a caprice of his will rather than a determination of his 
 reason, if he was, as M. Cousin supposes, the follower or the 
 victim of a universal scepticism. u Give me (cried Archi- 
 medes) a point, a single point, of support, and I will move 
 the world." But this solitary point would have been want- 
 ing to Pascal, and his faith would have been but an acci- 
 dent, an unforeseen event, a kind of brute fact ; for, as M. 
 de Saci well said to him, "That which overturns the founda- 
 tions of all knowledge, necessarily overturns those of religion 
 itself." He would have been a Christian without having 
 any right to be one, and, strictly speaking, he would not 
 have believed, for belief implies examination ; and it must be 
 left to the comic Andrieux to say, with his squeaking Vol- 
 tairian voice, 
 
 , " Nought he examined ; he was born to believe." 
 
 Was it thus that Pascal believed ? 
 
 Let us care for nothing but the truth. Let us accept, 
 with bandaged eyes, the results of a rigorous examination. 
 
 Take this extract, the quintessence (but textual) of a 
 chapter of Pascal, entitled, The Weakness of Man; uncer- 
 tainty of natural knowledge : 
 
 " Nothing, according to reason alone, is right in itself. 
 What are our natural principles, but principles acquired by 
 habit ? Life is a dream, a little less inconsistent than other 
 dreams. Instead of taking in the ideas of things, we tinge 
 with the qualities of our composite being all the simple 
 things that we contemplate. Man is only a subject full of 
 errors. Nothing shows him the truth ; all abuses him." 
 
 Take another extract, the quintessence of the chapter en- 
 
M. V. COUSIN S ESSAY ON PASCAL S THOUGHTS. 255 
 
 titled, Astonishing Contradictions that are found in the Nature 
 of Man : 
 
 " Man is formed to know truth. Speaking in good faitli 
 and sincerely, we cannot doubt of natural principles. We 
 know that we are not dreaming. Principles are felt, pro- 
 positions are concluded, and all with certainty, though in 
 different ways. We cannot bring ourselves to doubt of 
 everything ; and there never was real and perfect Pyrrhon- 
 ism. We have an idea of truth which no Pyrrhonism can 
 overcome," etc. 
 
 If in the former paragraph the field is abandoned to 
 Pyrrhonism, is not the field reconquered in the second frag- 
 ment, w T hich is the counterpart and the correction of the 
 first ? Not the correction (it is said in reply), but rather 
 the contradiction ; Pascal contradicts himself; that is all. 
 That all ! May it not be said that this is a small matter, 
 and that I may cheerfully suppose this great mind capable 
 of a forgetfulness which could be neither more nor less than 
 inconsiderateness ! If there is contradiction, it is in terms, 
 it is intentional. In the one passage our natural principles 
 are nought else than our accustomed principles ; in the other, 
 we cannot, without bad faith, doubt of natural principles : in 
 the one, our life is a dream ; in the other, we knoiv that ice 
 are not dreaming : in the one, nothing shoivs us truth ; in 
 the other, we are formed to know truth. 
 
 The knot of this enigma is in this word of the same 
 Pascal — a word which sums up all his thought. u Nature 
 confounds the Pyrrhonists, and reason (that is to say, 
 reasoning) confounds the dogmatists." It is one of the 
 contrarieties or dualities of our actual nature. There are 
 others of them. Man feels himself made for perfect happi- 
 
256 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 ness, and never attains it ; man sees himself on all sides 
 governed by necessity, and he feels himself free. Pascal 
 might have said, in like manner, that nature confounds the 
 fatalists ; that nature confounds, or rather relieves, the de- 
 spairing ; — nature, which is the first and the most sovereign 
 necessity ; nature, which is intuition, evidence, truth in us ; 
 nature, the immortal foundation which sin has covered with 
 rubbish, but has not been able to crush ; nature, that is to 
 say, the best foundation of man, without which, to say 
 truth, he would not be man. It is the opposition between 
 the discursive and the intuitive, which some, I believe, have 
 called the impersonal, reason. 
 
 For the thought of Pascal is not simply that man is of 
 necessity a dogmatist, and that a blind necessity has reason 
 against reason. He thinks that nature is the principle of 
 reason, of truth, and of certainty. He thinks that logic, 
 which is an abstraction, may upset all ; he thinks further 
 that, in our present condition, an unhappy tendency bears 
 us towards scepticism, which disregards intuition, as towards 
 fatalism, which disregards freedom ; but with this difference, 
 that the tendency towards fatalism draws on all men, while 
 that towards scepticism draws on only thinkers. He ac- 
 knowledges that, on certain subjects of the last importance, 
 the feebleness of intuition, and especially of moral intuition, 
 gives a favourable opportunity to the irruptions of logic, that 
 fierce and implacable enemy which steals our best convic- 
 tions, and sits unabashed at our fireside to count its booty. 
 He considers that we hold only by a precarious title the 
 most necessary and the best founded of our beliefs ; that even 
 their evidences do not insure them against the attacks of 
 doubt ; and that a great number of the things which we be- 
 
M. v. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 257 
 
 lieve with the soul, we do not really believe. Conviction and 
 doubt are not only two attitudes of the mind, but two states 
 of the soul ; and so long as the soul is not restored, there 
 are rnany truths which we cannot solidly believe, or which 
 we shall believe with an inert faith, incapable of resisting 
 the assaults of logic. God has not made logic to rule over 
 human life. What is noble in life is not to believe upon 
 proof, but to believe without proof; or, if this language 
 offend you, to believe on other proofs than those of reason- 
 ing. Suppose a being who should be wholly intellectual, 
 you may be sure that on this very account he would be 
 profoundly and incurably sceptical : and you may infer from 
 this, that men with whom logic is the usual instrument, of 
 whom logic is the profession (a geometrician, for example, as 
 was Pascal), will be bad defenders, against abstract reason, 
 of those truths whose force consists not in their being de- 
 monstrated, but in their being felt. If I do not feel that 
 good is good, and evil is evil, who will ever prove it to me ? 
 But does not Pascal's book contain a personal profession 
 of Pyrrhonism? Pascal would never, even apart from 
 Christianity, have confessed or believed himself to be a 
 Pyrrhonist. When he denies that there ever was effective 
 and perfect (that is to say, practical and absolute) Pyrrhon- 
 ism, and when he adds, that nature comes to the aid of 
 impotent reason, and preserves it from such extravagance, 
 he sufficiently testifies, it appears to me, that Pyrrhonism 
 is, in his estimation, extravagant. But there are two 
 things that cannot be denied. The one is, that Pascal 
 was more exposed than other men to the temptations of 
 this devil ; the other, that, indignant at the insolence of 
 dogmatism, that is to say, of the reason which would know 
 
 Y 
 
25S LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 everything and explain everything, he is delighted to 
 grapple with it, and has a sort of passionate pleasure in 
 being " the minister of so great a vengeance/' which, to say 
 the truth, falls on himself. 
 
 The true and good dogmatism (if we may be allowed for 
 a moment to use the term in a favourable sense), doubtless 
 appeared to him rare ; and he regarded as rightfully ac- 
 quired for Pyrrhonism, so that it must sooner or later 
 accrue to it in full proprietorship, the whole territory occu- 
 pied by prejudice and custom, and even all that where 
 reigns, in real usurpation, the haughtiness of philosophy. 
 There is no faith on one or other of these territories ; and 
 where faith is not, there is Pyrrhonism, at least potentially 
 and in expectation. It will be understood that I do not 
 speak here of the Christian faith, or of any positive belief, 
 but of faith in general, anterior to all revelation. Prejudice 
 in the world, and party-spirit in philosophy, may resemble 
 faith. Faith possesses, touches, handles, tastes, is united to, 
 its object. But neither authority nor the syllogism will 
 give us, respecting truths of which the soul is the judge, a 
 certainty that cannot be overthrown by the assaults of 
 reasoning. Even the best reasoning produces evidence 
 only with the assistance of the soul ; and a thousand times 
 we have seen doubt take up its position, hideous and sar- 
 castic, at the close of a deduction whose adamantine links 
 formed the most perfect chain. This massive tower which 
 you had seen on the horizon, was but a cloud after all. 
 
 A lively and learned biographer of Pascal has said that 
 this great mind, climbing on the shoulders of Montaigne in 
 order more effectually to reach the enemies of religion, 
 has given a striking proof of the support which faith may 
 
M. V. COUSIN'S ESSAY ON PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 259 
 
 receive from its natural enemies, unbelief and scepticism ; 
 and he compares them to those devils which, in the archi- 
 tecture of the middle ages, support, so to speak, the bold 
 spring of the dome of the temple towards that other dome, 
 which is heaven. All well for devils in stone. But Pascal 
 would not knowingly have called any of the myrmidons of 
 falsehood to the aid of the truth. Even while admitting 
 that Pyrrhonism had been serviceable to religion, he dis- 
 avowed it. A Pyrrhonist, in his estimation, was an extra- 
 vagant person. But how could he avoid showing us to 
 what dangers we are hurried by logic, that half of the 
 reason which we take for the whole reason, — logic, u that 
 blind thing" (as a celebrated writer lately called it), or 
 whose two eyes are obstructed when the soul and immediate 
 intuition do not concur with it ? How could Pascal have 
 refused to show the twofold impotence of man, with respect 
 to the truth of which he has need, and to the happiness of 
 which he is desirous ? How could he have shattered, after 
 having carefully polished, the only mirror in which humanity 
 can see the double furrow of one thunderbolt intersecting 
 on his forehead ? The unbeliever is especially an unbeliever 
 in himself. Man, in order to believe in himself, must first 
 believe in God. Let God reveal Himself, that is, com- 
 municate Himself to us, scepticism and despair will be 
 swallowed up in his bosom. The business is to find God, 
 who is the peace and security of the understanding, not 
 less than the peace and security of the heart. It is He 
 who shall teach me at once to trust my reason and to dis- 
 trust it. Pascal has ventured to say, " Man is but a sub- 
 ject full of errors, which cannot be effaced without grace." 
 Pyrrhonism is one of those errors. 
 
260 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 Has Pascal overshot the mark? I should rather re- 
 proach him for having been deficient in caution ; but I 
 am not sure if I have a right to do so. What is Pascal's 
 book? And, first of all, is it a book? It is impossible to 
 believe that throughout we have the conclusive form of his 
 thought ; it is even difficult to ascertain decidedly the pas- 
 sages in which we have it. Supposing that we have it in 
 fact, we might say that Pascal has paid somewhat too dearly 
 for that freedom of gait and that subjectivity with which his 
 book is so strongly impressed, and which constitute a part 
 of its literary value. I am fully persuaded that, in many 
 passages, Pascal is less a man who writes than a man who 
 thinks aloud. It is not disdain assuredly, it is confidence ; 
 and in this disposition he says many things which must be 
 understood cum grano salis. Could he fear that we should 
 grudge him this grain of salt ? He has then, by placing 
 himself in the sceptical point of view, and more easily 
 perhaps than any other, given free course to that abstract 
 reason, that pitiless destroyer, that tried corrosive whose 
 action leaves a perfect void behind it. He has attempted 
 "to interrogate all principles with experience and reason;" 
 but instead of saying, with M. Cousin, that Pascal forgets 
 that he has affirmed everything, by answering in advance all 
 the attacks of scepticism, might we not say with as much 
 truthfulness that Pascal forgets that he has destroyed every- 
 thing? But the truth is, that he has destroyed nothing, at 
 least nothing irreparably, since he appeals from logic to 
 nature, and strengthens (let us not forget that) nature by 
 grace ; for, as we shall see farther on, one of the triumphs 
 of grace is to re-establish nature. 
 
 I see nothing that should hinder me (or rather nothing 
 
M. v. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 261 
 
 which should justify me in doing otherwise) to regard as 
 conclusive, such thoughts of Pascal as the following : — 
 
 " Principles are felt, propositions are concluded ; and all 
 with certainty, though in different ways. And it is as 
 ridiculous that the reason should ask of the feeling, and of 
 the intellect, proofs of those first principles in order to con- 
 sent to them, as it would be ridiculous that the understand- 
 ing should ask of the reason a feeling of all the propositions 
 which it demonstrates. This impotence can, therefore, only 
 serve to humble the reason which would wish to judge of 
 all, but not to militate against our certainty, as if there were 
 only the reason to instruct us. Would to God that, on the 
 contrary, we never had occasion for it ; and that we knew 
 all things by instinct and by feeling. But nature has re- 
 fused us this boon, and she has given us but very little 
 knowledge of this sort ; all other knowledge can be acquired 
 only by reasoning." 
 
 And elsewhere : " We must know to doubt when we 
 ought, to be assured when we ought, to submit ourselves 
 when we ought. If we run counter to the principles of 
 reason, our religion will be absurd and ridiculous. For 
 those who have not religion by feeling, we cannot procure 
 it but by reasoning. God's procedure is to put religion 
 into the mind by reasons, and into the heart by His grace." 
 
 We may, if we please, begin with these passages and 
 end with the others ; but it appears to me more suitable to 
 begin with the others and end with these, upon which the 
 whole book is founded, and without which its existence 
 could not be explained. The book exists, such as it is, only 
 because Pascal believed in the reason. I venture to say 
 that that is evident ; and if it should be pretended that 
 
262 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 Pascal drives human reason into the burrow of scepticism 
 so far that we can scarcely see what means of retreat he has 
 left himself, I should still say, with the book in my hand, 
 that he believed in the reason, — that he believed in it more, 
 no doubt, in proportion as he believed in religion, but still 
 that, in order to believe in religion, he leant upon reason, 
 and that consequently his faith was not voluntarily blind, 
 and that consequently it cannot be said that he set aside by 
 his willy rather than surmounted by his reason, the difficidiies 
 which he met, and that, in fact, he has not taken a step in 
 his Apology without having provided a safe asylum for the 
 first and undemonstrable truths whose only proof is in their 
 statement. The faith of Pascal is, in every sense, a sterling 
 faith. 
 
 But is not Pascal decidedly and conclusively a Pyrrhonist 
 with respect to those great truths whose union constitutes 
 natural religion ? We must dwell upon this point, for it is 
 that about which M. Cousin appears to be most eager. 
 
 II. 
 
 What gives most pain to M. Cousin in the scepticism of 
 Pascal, is the way in which this great man expresses himself 
 on the subject of the principal doctrines of natural religion; 
 and inasmuch as these doctrines constitute, in the judgment 
 of the learned critic, the necessary premises of revealed 
 religion, it appears to him that Pascal is reduced to the 
 impossibility of ever attaining to this latter, at least logically. 
 
 Was Pascal personally sceptical with respect to these 
 two great truths? This should be a primary question. 
 For M. Cousin it is resolved. He does not appear to be- 
 lieve that anything can add to or take from the evidence of 
 
M. v. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 263 
 
 the declarations of Pascal on this subject in the famous 
 piece Infinity-nullity, or the Wager, which M. Cousin has 
 completely restored. In this piece Pascal avows that, " ac- 
 cording to the lights of nature, we are incapable of knowing 
 either what God is, or whether He is :" and in the same 
 piece he declares " that he should not feel himself able to 
 find in nature the means of convincing (of the existence of 
 God and the immortality of the soul) hardened atheists." 
 
 I shall begin with a special observation, with which I 
 might, perhaps, content myself. In the same page in which 
 we read that it is impossible, according to the lights of 
 nature, to know either what God is, or whether He is, we 
 read, some lines above, " We may w T ell know that there is a 
 God, without knowing what He is;" and again, "I have 
 already shown that we may well know the existence of a 
 thing without knowing its nature." I admit that in strict- 
 ness these two expressions may be reconciled with that 
 which has scandalised so many people, and that they do 
 not absolutely destroy it. But the respective places which 
 all the three occupy, and the absence of all indication of 
 the relation that may exist between them, establish at least 
 this.: that here we have not the conclusive form of Pascal's 
 thought, nor even his conclusive thought. Let any one 
 cast his eye over the whole of the piece, and tell us if he 
 can see aught else in it than a minute ; and when I say a 
 minute, perhaps I say too much. The preservation of this 
 first outgiving of an immortal pen allows us, after two 
 centuries, to surprise Pascal in the midst of the fermentation 
 of his genius, to spy, if we may so say, the first bubblings 
 of it, to see Pascal thinking ! Pascal, in fact, is here doing 
 nothing but thinking, pen in hand. If it is impossible to 
 
264 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 hold this piece as null and non-existent, if these first gropings 
 do not cease to be a fact, and even a significant fact, it is 
 not the less true that all this is an aside, that Pascal has 
 said nothing to us, and that the path through which he 
 passes should not be confounded with the place in which he 
 remains. We see here only a mind searching and taking 
 up its ground, exploring the difficulties of the field. And, 
 moreover, is it he alone that speaks, or are there two ? Are 
 there not, perhaps, two men in one? We may make 
 various conjectures. 
 
 But if, among these three expressions, or among all in 
 the piece, we took the most sceptical, the most negative, and 
 supposed it to be the avowed, the authentic doctrine of 
 Pascal, it appears to me that we should be doing something 
 akin to violating the secret of correspondence. The con- 
 clusive thought of the author must remain for us a sealed 
 letter. We know rightfully and really only the prelimi- 
 naries or the prelude of his thought. It has been said that 
 private life ought to be walled in. Well ! this belongs to 
 private life. Between an expression which says that " we 
 may well know that there is a God without knowing what 
 He is," — and another which says, a moment after, that "we 
 can no more prove that God is than we can know what He 
 is," — the wisest, it appears to me, the only right course, is 
 to remain undecided. 
 
 We think that we perceive something more finished, 
 more conclusive, in the passage where Pascal acknowledges 
 that " he should not feel himself able to find in nature the 
 means of convincing hardened atheists ;" and I am 'per- 
 suaded that he would not have shrunk from the responsi- 
 bility of this statement. And, in substance, why should he 
 
M. v. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 265 
 
 have shrunk from it ? Who can reasonably be offended by 
 this avowal ? But at present I only ask, what reason there 
 is to suppose that Pascal, on his own account, doubted the 
 two truths of which he yet despaired of convincing hardened 
 atheists. 
 
 Is it absolutely necessary, then, if we would avoid the 
 imputation of scepticism, not only to believe in these truths, 
 but to believe ourselves capable of demonstrating them to 
 all the world, to consider the arguments which establish 
 them irresistible in all cases and for every person, and to 
 believe that hardened atheists shall be, in this matter, of as 
 good composition as other men % But why not go further 
 at once ? Why not say that these truths are of an imme- 
 diate evidence, which dispenses with the necessity of any 
 proof? Why not rank them among the number of first and 
 undemonstrable truths, which are proved by enunciating 
 them ? If it is the glory of a Descartes, of a Clarke, of a 
 Fenelon, to have demonstrated them, it is because they re- 
 quired demonstration. If many great minds have devoted 
 the best of their powers to prove them, it is because many 
 other minds, and these not all of them the least, had doubted 
 or denied them. How could they deny, or even doubt them, 
 before, and even after, these demonstrations ? Why have 
 not the same arguments made the same impression upon all 
 minds ? Pascal knows, and will tell us. Why does not M. 
 Cousin know it ? Or, if he knows, why does he not tell us ? 
 
 It is a thing which he might and ought to have told us. 
 It is a strange thing that these truths are not instantane- 
 ously evident to all minds, that we did not possess them in- 
 tuitively, that it is necessary to demonstrate them. This 
 
 fact, though it be constant and universal, is not on that 
 
 z 
 
I 
 266 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 account the less astonishing. Considered closely, it con- 
 founds us. Certainly it is not normal, or the being concern- 
 ing whom we are compelled to assert it is not in a normal 
 state. It is unheard of that what is universally, absolutely 
 necessary, should not be evident ; that truths without which ' 
 human life has no foundation, no meaning, should require to 
 be demonstrated. It is, perhaps, still more unheard of that 
 what ought to be believed without proof should end in being 
 believed in virtue of proof. The importance, the existence, 
 of this problem can escape none but those fortunate minds 
 whose whole progress in the region of thought has been but 
 an easy triumph, and who have conquered without striking 
 a blow. Many people, and among them many choice spirits, 
 have not known this happiness. If Pascal underwent the 
 agonies of doubt, I do not think him the less great on that 
 account. At all events, there are certain subjects on which 
 no one is well convinced but after having doubted. It is as 
 with those structures whose position could only have been 
 strengthened by an earthquake. 
 
 Even when giving their whole weight to the famous pas- 
 sages which we have quoted, we cannot say, with M. Cousin, 
 that Pascal considered reason incapable of rising to the idea 
 of the existence of God, and of the immortality of the soul. 
 He has not even said that man, in his actual condition, can- 
 not obtain a full certainty and a sufficient knowledge of 
 these truths. But, granting that he has said so and thought 
 so, is there aught in this of Pyrrhonism, or at least of rela- 
 tive Pyrrhonism ? I know not ; but what I see in the first 
 instance is, that the human race, taken as a whole, is Pyr- 
 rhonist in this respect. What I think that I see further is, 
 that, dialectically, pure and simple theism is not more easily 
 
M. v. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 267 
 
 defended than pantheism, and that the idea (to speak only 
 of the idea) — the idea of a God, living, personal, distinct from 
 the universe which He penetrates and embraces, is not older 
 than .Christianity. It will be admitted, on a little reflection, 
 how illusory and vain it is to know that God is, without 
 knowing what He is. In this case, ideas of mode and of 
 substance are confounded ; and Pascal himself, who has said 
 that we may well know that God exists, and yet not know 
 His nature, could not say so in an absolute sense. It is not 
 the less true that the one of the questions is hollow and 
 without interest, if we separate it from the other. Accord- 
 ing to what God is, He is or He is not God, He is or He is 
 not. The question of His nature is identical with that of 
 His existence; and the very name of God does not so much 
 designate an abstract being as a congeries of attributes, a 
 manner of being which it is sought to establish. It is this 
 manner of being that has been especially proved by those 
 who are reputed as having proved the existence of God. 
 Science and humanity are really indebted only to those 
 who, by raising above doubt the personality and the liberty 
 of God, have thus proved Him to be God. But who did 
 this previously to Christianity, and who has done it since, 
 otherwise than under its inspiration ? It is true that this 
 magnificent idea is become the patrimony of the world ; and 
 that now it is boldly made a part, or the foundation, of na- 
 tural religion. But we may on this subject appropriately 
 borrow from an enemy of Christianity one of his happiest 
 sallies. One day, in the presence of Voltaire, mention was 
 made of the Natural History of BufFon. Not so natural, 
 exclaimed he. I say the same of natural religion, and even, 
 if you will, of natural morality. Christianity has given rise, 
 
268 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 it is said, to some new feelings in our heart, and some new 
 ideas in our reason. Say, rather, Christianity has given us 
 a new heart and a new reason ; it has at least opened both 
 the one and the other, and has brought out into the light 
 plants whose frozen germ was waiting only a ray of this Sun 
 of Eighteousness. That of which humanity did not even 
 suspect the existence, has appeared to it natural since it has 
 known it. And it was natural, in fact ; for it harmonised 
 with all facts, and completed all truths. The commandment, 
 to adopt the language of the apostle of Patmos, has been 
 found to be both old and new. Christianity, in all things, 
 has led us back to nature. It is it that has restored to us the 
 idea of God personal and living ; and philosophy, when once 
 its road was pointed out by Christianity, has since had a 
 fair field to reason on this necessary doctrine, and to take 
 for spontaneous what was suggested ; — a mistake certainly 
 more easily fallen into and more common than we suppose. 
 If it will not, as a faithful vassal, acknowledge its allegiance 
 in this matter, it must then explain to us why this notice of 
 a God, one, personal, living, and free, is coeval with the 
 Christian faith. Meantime, the men whom M. Cousin sets 
 in opposition to Pascal — the Bossuets, Arnaulds, and Male- 
 branches, the Sulpician Emery — are all, on this point, of one 
 mind with Pascal ; and if this is Pyrrhonism, they were 
 Pyrrhonists as well as he. The accusation must then be 
 extended ; and it will not fail to be so, if we are not to be 
 deceived by the silence of some and the concealments of 
 others. 
 
 We cannot see how ideas which Christianity alone has 
 brought forward, which it has furnished to humanity, could 
 be presented as the necessary premises of Christianity, and 
 
M. v. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 269 
 
 Tiow it could not be arrived at but by the way of these ideas. 
 In fact, many people have known nothing of these prelimi- 
 naries, and have found natural religion only in the bosom of 
 revealed religion. In right or in principle, it is very com- 
 prehensible that the matter may have occurred thus, and 
 that the revelation of the God of nature and the God of 
 grace may often have been but one and the same revelation. 
 These truths were not Pascal's point of departure in his 
 Apology. He carries the mind, and is carried himself, further 
 back. It is in the first and indemonstrable truths, in the 
 intuitions of the heart and of the understanding, that this 
 second Archimedes has found a point of support for the 
 evangelic demonstration. Let us admit, if you will, that if 
 he had come later, or if he had had the privilege to know 
 Descartes (not to speak of Malebranche, of Leibnitz, of 
 Schelling, and of M. Cousin), he might not have thought 
 himself bound to start so far back. But the only question 
 at present is, whether he had premises ; and we say that he 
 had. He did not include in them all that M. Cousin, I 
 suppose, would call the premises of Christianity ; but what 
 he had, was sufficient for him. 
 
 He had, it will be admitted, all that was necessary for the 
 examination of the proofs of Christianity. He did not throw 
 himself headlong into the faith as into a dark hole. His 
 conversion was not the suicide of his reason. His apologetic 
 was as rational, as good as that of M. Cousin could be. 
 But if he not only has attained the goal (which is not the 
 whole question), but if he has attained it in a good way, 
 why reproach him for not having followed yours ? Why 
 reproach him with having sanctioned a religion of chance, 
 when his own is evidently a religion of choice and reason ? 
 
270 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 Why ask him to account for his not having set out from the 
 God of nature, if he has attained, by the way of logic and 
 of proofs, to the God of grace, which involves and includes 
 the God of nature ? Will you still insist upon the use that 
 he appears to make of Pyrrhonism in the interest of the 
 faith ? Will you not understand that he does not profess 
 Pyrrhonism, but that he exhibits it ; that he points out the 
 tempest of opinions, the trouble of intellects, the distress of 
 the human mind, in order that he might make it be felt 
 how necessary it was that God should cause to penetrate 
 into this vast and deplorable darkness that ray of His glory 
 wdiich is at the same time a ray of His purity, and which 
 our moved hearts call Jesus Christ ? 
 
 M. Cousin does not allow that there are any sceptics ; 
 and I am reminded that all the world were such before the 
 Gospel. But though I did not know this, I should assert 
 it nevertheless. I should say it was so, for it must have 
 been so. The world was sceptical, inasmuch as the Gospel 
 is true. We may take this ground in a discussion with M. 
 Cousin, since, in M. Cousin's judgment, Christianity is true. 
 But if Christianity is true, it is also true that God has been 
 manifested in the flesh, and that sinners, that is to say, all 
 men, have been saved by this portentous abasement. Hu- 
 manity knew not this before the event, and, not knowing 
 this, it knew nothing. And as everything in our nature 
 and in our destiny called for this solution, and as this solu- 
 tion, on the other hand, was impossible to foresee, it follows 
 that, till the moment of the solution, all must have been 
 enigmatical, contradictory, chaotic, in our nature and our 
 destiny; and that our reason, with bandaged eyes, must, like 
 a prisoner in his cell, have gone dashing itself every moment 
 
M. v. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 271 
 
 against some new problem. If it was not thus, it is appa- 
 rently because we did not think. But if we thought, it 
 must have been so, unless the work of redemption be but a 
 badly joined and easily detached episode in the great human 
 epic, unless sin or apostasy be a scarcely sensible inconveni- 
 ence, and salvation be a mere matter of luxury. Although 
 I knew, historically, absolutely nothing of the agitations of 
 human thought before the Gospel, I should infer them even 
 from the existence and the truth of the Gospel. I should 
 say that, if the Gospel is true, the w r orld, before its advent, 
 must have been sceptical or Pyrrhonist, for the reason, at 
 once threefold and one, of the absence of redemption, its felt 
 necessity, and the impossibility of foreseeing it. 
 
 M. Cousin is distressed at the injustice done to philosophy, 
 which is, he assures us, on so good an understanding with 
 Christianity. Philosophy is not one. There are several 
 philosophies ; and, not to make a needless enumeration of 
 them, we shall only distinguish between the philosophy 
 which proceeds from Christianity and that which does not. 
 For the first, it is not wonderful that it accords with Chris- 
 tianity, and it would be wonderful if Christianity had aught 
 to say against it. As to the second, if it wishes to boast of 
 this coincidence, it does more than is required of it ; but, on 
 the other hand, it would do less than it ought to do if it did 
 not explicitly establish this coincidence. But as all philo- 
 sophy is not able or willing to afford this proof, and as more 
 than one, on the contrary, strenuously disavows this accord- 
 ance, it is evident that by the term philosophy we must un- 
 derstand some particular philosophy, and certainly that of 
 M. Cousin. Therefore let us only ask of him an account of 
 this. It is his part to establish that this agrees with Chris- 
 
272 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 tianity. We have a right to suppose that Eclecticism dis- 
 poses the souls of men to embrace the foolishness of the 
 Cross. We must then be told positively whether it is so, or 
 whether this foolishness continues to be foolishness in the 
 estimation of Eclecticism. In the former case, in favour of 
 which there is a legal presumption, the event must have 
 been brought to pass in the following manner. Philosophy 
 (eclectic) must have proved to man that he knows nothing 
 which can solve the enigma of his life, establish harmony in 
 his being, and root peace in his soul. Who would not have 
 a right to be astonished if any disciple of Eclecticism, and 
 especially if the heads of the school, called even this con- 
 clusion Pyrrhonism ? For without this Pyrrhonism, a man 
 does not become a Christian, and must laugh at Christians. 
 And, on the other hand, if a man becomes a Christian, he 
 must have a philosophy formed nearly after this model, un- 
 less it proceeds directly from, and belongs to, Christianity. 
 
 Be this as it may, there is no reason to be distressed at 
 what Pascal may have said, or given to be understood, re- 
 specting philosophy. He has not condemned it in general. 
 It may even be that, on considering the whole of its results, 
 he wished well to it ; for it has subdued the most presump- 
 tuous by depriving them of their hope; it has, in its 
 struggles, thrown rich waifs upon the shores of Canaan ; 
 and a goodly number of the most eminent Christians have 
 been the wrecked ones of philosophy. 
 
 We have not hitherto considered the truths of natural 
 religion but as intellectual or metaphysical truths. But 
 already Pascal has left us far behind him; and we must 
 quicken our pace in order to make up with him, and to 
 draw from him all his thought. You ask him to give 
 
M. v. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 273 
 
 account of a dogma, or rather of a philosophical system. 
 He is no longer there. He has something better to ask of 
 Christianity, or rather of God. We imagine that we have 
 all when we have the intellectual conviction of this truth, 
 that God, or even that a personal God, exists. But it is 
 little to know God, if we do not possess Him, and in- 
 deed we do not know Him unless we possess Him : for if, 
 in some cases, the whole meaning of the word knoivledge is 
 intellectual, it is not so in all cases ; and we might say in 
 general, that intellectual knowledge (le savoir) is but the 
 preliminary, the envelope or the logical impress of real 
 knowledge. This is the key of the book of Thoughts ; this 
 is the point at which Pascal aimed : the knowledge of God 
 by the heart. Before all, he had remarked, that, whatever 
 be the intrinsic value of the intellectual evidence, it takes 
 little hold even of the mind. " The metaphysical proofs of 
 God (he tells us) are so removed from the reasonings of 
 men, and so involved, that they strike little, and though 
 this might be useful to some, it would be only during the 
 instant that they see this demonstration ; for an hour after, 
 they are afraid that they are deceived." Is not this strik- 
 ingly true with respect to most men ? But had it not been 
 so, still Pascal would not have been defeated. All specu- 
 lative clearness, not only the most lively, but the most 
 permanent, was as nothing to him in comparison with heart- 
 knowledge ; and if he had been pressed, he would not have 
 shrunk from saying that knowledge is included in salvation, 
 or proceeds from it ; but what is more certain is, that he 
 would only have regarded that knowledge as desirable 
 which saves, that is to say, which unites to God. It is in 
 this spirit that he says, " Though a man should be per- 
 
274 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 suaded that the proportions of numbers are truths, imma- 
 terial, eternal, and dependent on a first truth in which they 
 subsist, and which is called God, I should not consider that 
 he had advanced far towards salvation.'' He did not despise 
 the knowledge of God by the mind ; but he regarded it as 
 only the precursor or preliminary of a better work. " The 
 method of God, who disposes all things with gentleness, is to 
 put religion into the mind by reasons, and into the heart 
 by His grace." — " Those who have not faith by the feeling 
 of the heart, we can only procure it for them by reasoning, 
 and wait till God Himself impress it on their hearts." 
 
 Even the knowledge by the mind, as such, has need of 
 the heart. Without the desire to see, we do not see. 
 When the life and the thought are greatly materialised, 
 we do not believe in spiritual things. Many people have 
 eyes, but see not ; many people who have eyes to see, re- 
 quire to be turned towards the light. They must be taught 
 the language in which we wish to convey instruction to 
 them. All the reasonings which are drawn from spiritual 
 notions are lost, or ridiculous, for men who are destitute of 
 these premises. And therefore it is that Pascal could say, 
 " I shall not here undertake to prove by natural reasons 
 any things of this nature, because I should not feel myself 
 able to find in nature means of convincing hardened atheists" 
 Pascal seems to have known what a hardened atheist is. 
 
 To know by the heart, that is the great matter. And 
 hence we ought not to be astonished that Pascal not only 
 dispenses with a great light, but does not desire it. This is 
 the reason why, even in the internals of Christianity, he 
 allows obscurities. If there were not such, the heart would 
 leave all to the mind, which would be sufficient for all : and 
 
M. V. COUSIN'S ESSAY ON PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 275 
 
 the heart thenceforth, having no part in that research after 
 the truth, which, even as a research, is a part of our 
 well-being, would leave man to stalk sadly in the midst of 
 those, empty forms and abstract notions which he calls 
 knowledge. 
 
 It is usual to believe that Pascal only put in opposition 
 Pyrrhonism and revelation. But he makes another antithesis. 
 He opposes feeling to Pyrrhonism. To reason, a despairing 
 Penelope, he opposes the heart, and the w r eb is no longer 
 undone. He reclaims, restores the proofs of the heart. It 
 is perhaps in this that the originality of the book of the 
 Thoughts consists. The summary enunciation of this idea 
 exposes me, I am aware, to more than one reproach, and 
 more than one suspicion; and it is certain that the idea 
 may be put out of its proper place, and may be exaggerated. 
 No matter ; it has its place in a sound philosophy. The 
 heart is an instrument of knowledge as well as any of our 
 senses ; and on many subjects the reason can only act upon 
 the data which it furnishes. Pascal has explained the 
 matter admirably. He has made it clearly appear how 
 righteous and how worthy of God it is that light should not 
 be lavished but upon those who have their hearts right, and 
 that from all others God should conceal Himself. And if 
 the language which he had at his disposal had been more 
 precise on these subjects, it w r ould have fallen to the lot of 
 the sublime author of the Thoughts to lay down, once for 
 all, the province of this great faculty. 
 
 He had understood that the pure soul, or the purified 
 soul, alone can receive certain truths, because sin is not only 
 a stain, but darkness. This point of view explains many 
 things in Pascal's book. It explains, in particular, the 
 
276 LITERACY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 fragment which has most shocked simple thinkers, the most 
 scandalous, or at least the most scandalising passage. I 
 shall say something of it in a concluding article, which is 
 necessary at all events, as I have only spoken of Pascal's 
 ivork; and my subject evidently requires me to speak of 
 Pascal himself. After the book, the author. 
 
 III. 
 
 The search after religious truth is an affair of the heart 
 as w T ell as of the mind. This conviction of Pascal gives, as 
 we have said, the key to more than one passage of his book, 
 and may remove more than one offence. No one of these 
 offences is more grave than that which many persons have 
 taken at a passage which the autograph manuscript has 
 given us in all its nakedness : " There have been people 
 cured of the malady of which you wish to be cured 
 (unbelief). Follow the course by which they proceeded; 
 it was by doing all as if they believed, taking holy water, 
 causing masses to be said, etc. Naturally, the same course 
 will make you believe, and will reduce you to the condition 
 of a beast. But that is what I am afraid of. And why ? 
 What have you to lose ?" When we met these extraordinary 
 lines, we did as every one else does, w r e cried out in alarm. 
 But a sufficiently simple reflection soon came to our aid. 
 It is impossible to believe that Pascal seriously counsels his 
 interlocutor to become a beast, and that without reserve he 
 represents faith as the act of a beast (une betise). There is 
 certainly here what in rhetoric is called accommodation. 
 The " beastishness" of which he speaks is of a peculiar 
 kind. It will be better understood when we know better 
 Pascal's interlocutor. It is not any unbeliever, it is rather 
 
M. v. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 277 
 
 a Christian. It is a man not only struck with the moral 
 excellence of Christianity, but drawn towards that religion 
 by a feeling which is as good as evidence, but still embar- 
 rassed by doubts of a wholly intellectual kind, which un- 
 settle his conviction without being able to destroy it, and 
 especially without being able to weaken in his soul the 
 necessity of being a Christian. It is a neophyte, whose in- 
 tellect, enraged at being set aside as peremptorily as unex- 
 pectedly, makes a stout opposition on the very threshold of 
 the sanctuary, and, so to speak, on the steps of the altar. 
 He is told that one element of conviction he wants, and 
 that it is not competent to his reason, which evidently can 
 go no farther and can understand no more. Enter, and 
 you will see from within what cannot be seen from without ; 
 practise Christianity, and you will know it. But how, asks 
 the inquirer after Christianity, — how will that lead me to 
 Christianity? "To show you that it leads you to it," 
 answers Pascal, u it is because it diminishes the passions, 
 which are your great obstacles, etc." This is the strength 
 of Pascal's idea — an idea which he w r ould have developed, as 
 is shown by the etc., and which would then have appeared 
 to be his principal, his true thesis. The rest is only the 
 form. We may, I admit, conceive a better. Pascal might 
 have said directly : Act as if you believed ; mortify your 
 flesh and its lusts ; endeavour, cost what it may, to live in 
 purity and innocence ; humble yourself before your in- 
 feriors ; submit yourself to everybody ; practise loyally the 
 Christian morality ; quench the fire of your passions ; hush 
 the tempest of your worldly thoughts, and be sure that in 
 this silence the voice of God will make itself heard. Ah ! 
 well ! That was to say, in other words, what Jesus Christ 
 
278 LITERARY CRITIQUE OST 
 
 Himself had said : " He who shall be willing to do the will 
 of My Father wdio is in heaven, shall know whether My 
 doctrine be from God, or whether I speak of Myself." It is 
 true that Jesus Christ would not have said: Take holy 
 w T ater, hear the mass, even although there had been masses 
 and holy water then. He would not have said : Be bap- 
 tized, go to the temple, accomplish the ritual law. Jesus 
 Christ is here wiser than Pascal, God wiser than man. He 
 does not counsel as a test aught but what is in itself good, 
 obligatory, what would have been incumbent upon us even 
 if Christianity had not been true. Pascal has not spoken so 
 well ; but, in reality, w T hat did he mean ? To direct the life 
 in order to direct the mind. We can have no doubt of this 
 when we read the concluding paragraph : " But what evil 
 will befall you in consequence of your following this course ? 
 You will be faithful, honest, humble, grateful, beneficent, 
 a sincere friend, truthful, etc." This makes it evident that 
 what was nearest to Pascal's heart, as a means of becoming 
 a Christian, is less the ritual than the moral practice of 
 Christianity. His idea is always this : Make trial of the 
 life of Christianity, and you will soon be convinced of its 
 truth. Be willing to be a Christian in action, and you will 
 ere long be a Christian in conviction. Piety leads to truth, 
 as truth leads to piety. 
 
 In the disposition in which Pascal's catechumen is, it will 
 probably cost him little to embrace all the parts, all the de- 
 tails, of this practice. He is already a neophyte, so far as 
 desire goes. He will carry into the fulfilment of the cere- 
 monies an involuntary respect, an inclination so favourable, 
 that he will take the holy water and hear the mass without 
 hypocrisy and without imbecility. Was it right, then, to 
 
M. v. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 279 
 
 give him this counsel ? It was not ; and we do not hesitate 
 to affirm that Pascal here goes too far. We only mean to 
 show that his error is but the abuse of a true, a philosophi- 
 cal idea. In fact, we must not too severely condemn vicious 
 circles. The life even of wise men is full of them ; and no 
 one, I believe, would be astonished to see a Pyrrhonist on 
 his knees, supplicating the Being of beings to prove to him 
 His existence ! 
 
 [As to that terrible word abetira, is there not apparent in 
 it an allusion to the famous expression of the apostle, to the 
 term foolishness, which Pascal boldly translates into stu- 
 pidity (sottise) ? And not without reason ; for, in the eyes 
 of many of the despisers of Christianity, foolishness is too 
 noble, and stupidity expresses the idea better. The epithet 
 sublime may be applied to foolishness, but never to stupidity. 
 Some, therefore, will not concede to Christianity the honour 
 of foolishness, and will insist upon stupidity. Pascal speaks 
 according to their feelings, by using the term abetir to 
 designate the humiliation required of the abstract reason, 
 or, if you please, its momentary abdication in respect of 
 questions w T hich are not within its province, and with respect 
 to which it would be, according to all appearance, but an 
 importunate prattler and a guide without authority.] 
 
 Pascal, in his book, or in the rudiments of his book, it is 
 true, demonstrates Christianity ; but we might say some- 
 times that he is teaching the art of becoming a Christian ; 
 and that he only wishes, with the united means of know- 
 ledge and of reasoning, to lend a last aid, to give a last push, 
 to men in whose hearts he has seen awakened, with the de- 
 sire of being righteous^ the desire of being Christians. The 
 close correspondence — the identity, we might say — of these 
 
280 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 two desires, if it is not a proof of Christianity, is at least a 
 very strong indication in favour of its truth. But Pascal 
 has not acknowledged in fact the sufficiency of this proof. 
 It is sufficient, indeed, for the greater number of true Chris- 
 tians ; itj is full and conclusive for them ; and whoever does 
 not end by being a Christian in this w r ay, has reason to 
 believe that he has not faith. But no one is obliged to be 
 contented with this proof; and therefore, in general, we must 
 proceed as if it were not sufficient. For some it must be 
 completed, for others it must be superseded, by proofs of 
 another kind. And in this Pascal engages, with singular 
 energy, in what remains to us of his book. But he does not 
 fail to recognise and to exhibit the intrinsic value of the 
 moral or spiritual proof. Christianity is the natural food, 
 the subsistence, of those who hunger and thirst after right- 
 eousness. Pascal presents it to them, and says : See if you 
 do not find here what you seek. Or, as if he withdrew a 
 veil from before the adorable face of Jesus, he says to all 
 men, See if this is not He whom you seek. Those who say, 
 u Unless I put my finger into the print of the nails, and un- 
 less I put my hand into His side, I will not believe," he 
 permits to touch these divine scars. Those who have from 
 the first exclaimed, " My Lord and my God I" he does not 
 tell to put their fingers into these sacred wounds, or to con- 
 vince themselves when they are convinced already. He is 
 not in pain about them ; they know as much of the matter 
 as he does. He lets them alone. He has done all that is 
 needful for them by opening the Gospel to them. We have- 
 read in a recent book that a young unbeliever, seized with 
 a horror of evil, touched, or rather tortured, by the desire of 
 holiness, after having taken this spiritual malady into the 
 
M. v. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 281 
 
 world and into solitude, at last one day fell upon his knees, 
 and in an ecstasy of impetuous fervour cried to God, Lord, 
 make me righteous ! He wished that a God should make 
 him righteous ; a priest came and made him Catholic. He 
 proved to him the inadequacy of his reason, the necessity of 
 a visible authority ; and instead of the religion which he 
 sought, he had that. He may have found a better after- 
 wards. Pascal, who is not a priest, but a man, introduces 
 his proselyte, hungering after righteousness, to Jesus Christ 
 Himself; introduces them, if I may presume to say so, to one 
 another, and leaves the catechumen in the hands and under 
 the protection of his sublime Teacher. Jesus Christ speaks 
 alone to the disciple, and the disciple hears alone. No 
 man, no doctrine, is interposed between them. Soul believes 
 ill soul. Mind plunges into the fountain of truth. God 
 and man understand each other without an interpreter, and 
 are united without mediation. Jesus Christ becomes His 
 own apologist ; and what an apologist, what an advocate 
 for Christianity, is the Founder and the Author of Chris- 
 tianity Himself! 
 
 The history which I suppose to have been that of many 
 of Pascal's proselytes, was in part that of Pascal himself. It 
 is a mistake to suppose that this great man sought in 
 Christianity only a pillow to rest his weary head. His life, 
 his writings, suggest to us a different judgment. Pascal, 
 writing an apology, or, if you will, a demonstration of Chris- 
 tianity, has given so much space to a picture of the troubles 
 of the intellect, that it might be supposed that he was only 
 recounting his own history, and that it was the whole of his 
 history. But his book, full as it is of himself, is one thing, 
 and his life is another thing. I am not anxious to deny 
 
 2 A 
 
282 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 that he groaned more painfully than others under the op- 
 pression of doubt ; that uncertainty, as such, was more 
 intolerable to him than to many minds ; and that the desire 
 of knowledge had nearly as much intensity in him as the 
 desire of happiness in the generality of men. But Pascal 
 was conscious of nobler desires. Others may know what is 
 meant by the words fault, wrong, and even crime. He 
 knew the meaning of the word sin. This opens the eyes, 
 or rather this gives eyes. He had thenceforth, in order to 
 assure himself of the truth of the Gospel, a sense which may 
 be wanting to the most intelligent, the most gifted. He 
 felt that truth and life, seeing and living, are but one and 
 the same thing under two different names ; that truth is not 
 a form, but a substance ; and that the only way of knowing 
 the truth is by being in the truth. (1 John iii. 19.) And 
 thus were taught him those things "which have never 
 entered into the heart of man, and which God reveals to 
 those who love Him." 
 
 If, then, Pascal has thrown himself into an abyss, it is the 
 abyss of holiness. The nullity from which he has fled is sin. 
 The darkness which horrified him was the " outer dark- 
 ness," which is black only through the absence of God. He 
 saw light where he saw love ; and it is into love, properly, 
 that he threw himself headlong. And let it not be said that 
 if it is not enlightenment that he supremely seeks, it is 
 happiness or salvation, and that this quest is worth less than 
 the other. There is nothing in Pascal's book to support 
 this assertion, if we take it only in the ordinary sense ; and 
 in the other sense, we willingly accept of it. The desire of 
 happiness is no disgrace to any one, else it would be a dis- 
 grace to the whole world. It is perfectly equal in one indi- 
 
M. v. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 283 
 
 vicinal and another, for it is unlimited in all. If any cir- 
 cumstance appear to diminish its intensity in one, and to 
 increase it in another, the level is immediately restored ; 
 rather, it never has been disturbed, but it reappears to the 
 attentive eye. The most generous man has a feeling of 
 happiness not less lively or less sure than the most selfish 
 man. Only, his happiness consists in self-sacrifice, in con- 
 formity to God, in living the life of the Spirit. The desire 
 of salvation and the fear of hell are two different things. 
 There is nothing noble in the latter of these feelings : all 
 the nobleness of the human soul may be displayed in the 
 former ; for the desire of salvation may often be translated 
 into such words as these : " My soul thirsteth for the mighty 
 and the living God. When shall I come and appear before 
 my God ?" This is not a happiness merely, nor the greatest 
 of happinesses ; it is happiness itself. Try to conceive a 
 man who is a stranger to the fear of hell, who is convinced 
 that he shall enjoy in another life all the blessings which 
 he has most desired. Put him in possession of these bless- 
 ings, and suppose at the same time that a deliverance so 
 unexpected and benefits so vast have not opened his heart 
 to love ; suppose him without God in this world and in the 
 other, and climbing through eternity, heaping infinity on 
 infinity without coming to God ; — I believe that the felicity 
 of that man would be a horrid irony, his salvation would be 
 damnation, and his heaven would be a hell. 
 
 It is towards God, and consequently towards spiritual 
 felicities, that every man unconsciously gravitates. Very 
 few people form a distinct conception of the pains of hell ; 
 still fewer of the pleasures of heaven. The bare idea of the 
 wrath of God, and of the peace of God, is sufficient. " Who 
 
284 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 hath hardened himself against Him and hath prospered ?" 
 u Whom have we in heaven or on the earth besides Him !" 
 Thus the voice of truth murmurs hoarsely in all souls. 
 Take away the flames and the torture, alarm will remain. 
 Take away the thrones and the crowns, hope will endure. 
 The idea of being united to God is full of delight. " As 
 for me, to draw near unto God, is all my good." The idea 
 of being at enmity with God is horrible ; " our God also is 
 a consuming fire." I do not say that the fears and the hopes 
 of many are not sordid and gross ; I only say that, at the 
 bottom of the terror and the desire of many others, there 
 is more spirituality than might be supposed. 
 
 This will be believed with respect to Pascal more easily 
 than of any one else ; and we should count upon the support 
 of M. Cousin on this point, if the Pyrrhonism of Pascal did 
 not perhaps obscure his view, and did not alter perhaps his 
 judgment. To what extent this takes place, it is difficult 
 to form an idea. It is not enough for him that Pascal be- 
 came a Christian in order to have done with it, and in some 
 sort as a forlorn hope. He will not even have it that Pascal 
 found rest in his faith. This may be logical, setting out 
 from the author's first supposition ; but that is not the ques- 
 tion. The point is to ascertain if it is true. In any case, it 
 will not be demanded that on this point we should be satis- 
 fied with a proof a priori. But, do the book and the life of 
 Pascal warrant such expressions as these : u The unquiet and 
 unhappy faith which he undertakes to communicate to men 
 like himself" ? This admits of no answer. We wait for 
 proofs. We wait to know the passages, the doings, where 
 Pascal's faith is shown to be unquiet and unhappy. We 
 have not yet been able to discover them. They were passed 
 
M. V. COUSIN'S ESSAY ON PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 28o 
 
 over in silence until M. Cousin spoke of them. But M. 
 Cousin is not a man to leave us in suspense. He always 
 goes well armed. He informs us, then, that there escape 
 from the author of the Thoughts, in the midst of the 
 paroxysms of his convulsive devotion, cries of wretchedness 
 and despair. This convulsive devotion is apparently those 
 returns to the past, those regrets, those agonies, those 
 tremblings, perhaps those prayers, which we had taken for 
 the usual characters of that sublime reaction of the new 
 man against the old man. What though they be con- 
 vulsions ? As for those cries, readers, you are still more 
 embarrassed, and you ask from what quarter of the Thoughts 
 they are heard to issue ? Oh what incredible deafness ! or 
 what an unpractised ear ! What ! have you not read in 
 Pascal this astonishing expression : H The eternal silence of 
 those infinite spaces frightens me ;" and this other : " How 
 many realms know nothing of us !" and yet this other : 
 " How hollow and full of uncleanness is the heart of man !" ? 
 Is not this clear enough ? Truly there is here but one 
 thing clear : it is the dominion of prejudice over even the 
 best minds. And w r hy, then, should not Pascal, speaking as 
 a man and not as a Christian, stating the impressions which 
 are natural to all meditative minds that have not been settled 
 by Christianity, have said that he could not bear the eternal 
 silence of these infinite spaces ? The God of Christians, the 
 God of Pascal, animates with His voice, peoples with His 
 presence, that infinite silence of which Pascal here speaks 
 to us with so eloquent terror. It is admirable ; it is just 
 what he should have said. Why, in the same point of view, 
 should not the author of the Thoughts have exclaimed : 
 " How many realms know nothing of us !" Permit him to 
 
286 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 humble at his pleasure that creature whom, ere long, he 
 will magnify so exceedingly before you : for this miserable 
 being, whom the worlds know not, God knows him, and God 
 cares for him. Why, lastly, should not Pascal have called 
 hollow and full of uncleanness, that human heart of which 
 a prophet, who apparently had faith, said, with more energy 
 even than Pascal, that it is deceitful and desperately wicked 
 above all things ? By what right, when the question is as 
 to a book, whose author, as all admit, places himself by turns 
 in the most diverse points of view, — by what right lay hold 
 of an isolated expression, of which the destination as well 
 as the date is unknown, to pronounce that it shows the con- 
 clusive state of the soul of its author, and the last result of 
 all his thought ? It was, we think, four lines that a famous 
 politician asked, that he might hang whom he pleased. M. 
 Cousin required but one to condemn the faith of Pascal. 
 
 " His faith," we are told again, " is far from being un- 
 clouded ;" for Pascal " does not dissemble the difficulties 
 which Christianity presents to criticism, if we engage in the 
 study of texts ; and to righteousness, if we compare it with 
 other religions." Ordinarily, it is weak and ill- assured faith 
 that dissembles difficulties. We have therefore here a pre- 
 sumption in favour of that of Pascal ; but for the rest, it must 
 be admitted to M. Cousin, — let him make what he will of the 
 avowal, — what he says of the faith of Pascal may be said of 
 the faith of many stedfast Christians ; and perhaps there is not 
 one in whom it has been without a cloud. If he will con- 
 demn it on that account, be it so. As to the reason of this 
 fact, or the wisdom of this dispensation, we take the liberty 
 to refer him to Pascal. As to the fact itself, it is so little 
 peculiar to the author of the Thoughts, that almost the only 
 
M. V. COUSIN S ESSAY ON PASCAL'S THOUGHTS. 287 
 
 thing that distinguishes him is a courageous candour, of 
 which the example has not become very contagious. Be- 
 sides, it is not necessary to go to Port-Royal to hear state- 
 ments like the following : — u The only religion contrary to 
 nature, contrary to common sense, contrary to our pleasures, 
 is that which has always been." Excepting the publica- 
 tion, all the Catholic doctors would sign it. They w r ould 
 not, I believe, adopt either this statement, which Port-Royal 
 has suppressed : a Miracles serve not to convert, but to con- 
 demn ;" — nor this other, which M. Cousin almost hesitates to 
 publish : " The prophecies quoted in the Gospel, do you 
 think that they are referred to in order to make you believe ? 
 No ; it is to withdraw you from believing." Neither do we 
 adopt these statements ; but we cannot allow them to out- 
 weigh, so many other elaborated and developed passages in 
 which the miracles and the prophecies are turned to a 
 wholly different use. If a choice must be made, who can 
 hesitate? And who will not see in these two short ex- 
 pressions, in these two lofty sallies, some of those first 
 gleams, of which the hyperbolical and paradoxical form in- 
 dicates nothing but the liveliness of a sudden impression, 
 and the astonishment of an unexpected meeting ? At 
 bottom, there is truth in the thought of Pascal. Miracles 
 have been rarely employed to convert, and have rarely con- 
 verted. They have been, for those who have believed them, 
 the reward and the encouragement, rather than the founda- 
 tion, of their faith ; and their only visible effect has so often 
 been to confound unbelief, or to deprive it of all excuse, that 
 we might be tempted to believe that this was also their only 
 end. The same observation is applicable to the prophecies ; 
 and Pascal's error (on the supposition that we could justly 
 
288 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 ask him to give account of the immediate bearing of those 
 two expressions) would be, that he has been too absolute ; 
 that he has represented as the only end of prophecy and of 
 miracle, what is probably but their secondary end, their 
 foreseen and intended recoil. We shall not inform M. 
 Cousin that the Gospel, often sufficiently paradoxical in its 
 style, contains more than one expression analogous to the 
 passages which he has brought to notice. 
 
 Pascal might have said many such things without our 
 being entitled to affirm that he did not find peace in his 
 faith. He found in it, we believe, peace and joy. We 
 must not be led astray by the temperament of this extraor- 
 dinary man, the effects of cruelly shattered health, and that 
 something, which w T e may call geometrical impassionment, 
 which we find pervading his life. Neither ought we to 
 take this great man on the footing of an experienced, 
 matured, tempered Christian, equally recovered from the 
 old errors of his worldliness, and from the illusions of a new 
 faith ; but on the footing of a neophyte, younger in heart 
 than in years, newer in faith than in life, and to whom the 
 ardour peculiar to that period of the Christian life, combining 
 w r ith the natural vividness of his impressions and the bold- 
 ness of his genius, suggests profound but alarming expres- 
 sions, which we should never have known but for his 
 premature death. I do not think that it is any irreverence 
 to Pascal to suppose that, all Pascal though he were, he 
 would have been subjected to a ripening process. What we 
 should have seen him five or ten years later, is what no one 
 can tell. But what we can say, at least to those who know 
 that happiness has many forms, and that Christian joy is 
 not a joy of temperament, is that Pascal was happy and 
 
M. v. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 289 
 
 joyous in his faith. We do not know precisely in what 
 sense M. Cousin could say that " Pascal's faith is another 
 excess, almost as lamentable as the evil which it professes 
 to cure ;" — (Pyrrhonism doubtless, not sin ?). At all events, 
 Pascal knew nothing of it, and did not feel anything la- 
 mentable in his faith. We can now speak of the Amulet, of 
 which so much has been said. That piece, which it has been 
 attempted to render ridiculous, and which is sublime, casts 
 the brightest light on the state of Pascal's soul during his 
 last years. I cannot transcribe it, and I do not wish to 
 abridge it. It is in everybody's hands. If we read it with 
 attention, if we observe that it applies and extends to several 
 successive epochs, and that Pascal carried it with him for a 
 very long time, we shall be convinced that, if his faith was 
 a lamentable evil, he did not suspect it to be so ; and we 
 shall have difficulty in finding where to place, in the midst 
 of this song of triumph and of praise, those cries of misery 
 and despair which M. Cousin has heard. 
 
 There is something so extravagantly paradoxical in saying 
 that such a man as M. Cousin has not understood Pascal, 
 that we would very willingly not say it if we could do 
 otherwise. But, in short, it must be said. There is something 
 here more than a book, there is a man ; there is something 
 more than philosophy, there is Christianity. There is, as 
 has been said, a tragedy, which must not be witnessed in 
 the character of a mere metaphysician. There are things 
 which the most intelligent will not comprehend if he do not 
 feel them. The author of the book which we are examining 
 appears to have sailed in a deep but open sea, and never to 
 have been rocked by the storm on waters whitened with 
 breakers. There are facts which, all learned as he is he 
 
 2B 
 
290 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON 
 
 does not know, and situations which, all penetrating as he 
 is, he does not comprehend. To be comprehended, they 
 must be experienced. It is with certain questions as with 
 those fortresses which cannot be reduced by cannonading 
 them from a distance — for example, from on board a frigate 
 — but by landing, effecting breaches, assaulting, fighting 
 hand to hand, crossing bayonets. There are problems, to 
 the bottom of which the philosopher must descend, not as 
 a philosopher but as a man, with all his reason doubtless, 
 but also with all his conscience, all his sensibility, and even 
 all his imagination. The philosophers and the economists 
 have often fallen into the same fault, which shows that in the 
 workshop of thought, an extreme division of labour has its 
 inconveniences. The economist has said : I investigate how 
 wealth is produced, and how it is distributed. Make room 
 and let me pass ; let another occupy himself with the rest. 
 But this rest is morals, civilisation, and happiness. The 
 philosopher comes and says : I am not a man, but a mind. 
 I attach myself to ideas. Let another occupy himself with 
 the rest. But this rest is truth ; for truth, in certain matters, 
 is a fact, a life, or it is nothing. But I reject this economist 
 on the subject of happiness, for it is not his province ; and this 
 philosopher on the subject of living truth, for he takes cog- 
 nisance only of abstract truth. Pascal doubtless is not in- 
 fallible. Pascal is not perfect ; but Pascal is a man, and it 
 is as a man that he must be approached. His book is great, 
 precisely because it is a man's book. The man, with Pascal, 
 leads as in his train the savant and the philosopher ; but 
 the man remains at the head of the expedition : it is for 
 him that it is undertaken : it is his name that it shall bear. 
 Pascal has made a book of apologetics ; I admit it. But 
 
M. v. cousin's essay on pascal's thoughts. 291 
 
 Pascal has, above all, traced, with a power which will never 
 be equalled, the image of man in presence of the greatest 
 interests and the gravest problems. This book is not only 
 an extraordinary country, where thought, sometimes towering 
 perpendicularly, overhangs the reader, and seems ready to 
 crush him; this book is a moral fact, an experience, a docu- 
 ment. Pascal has experienced nothing which a human soul 
 has not either experienced or can comprehend. But, in 
 order to comprehend an author, we must accept his point of 
 view ; we must identify ourselves with him ; we must strip 
 off the doctoral robe, as Peter the Great at Sardam laid 
 aside the dignity of empire, and, like him, we must take 
 the hatchet in our hands, at least to feel its weight. Several 
 years ago we heard a celebrated philosopher say, in con- 
 nection with a metaphysical discussion, that in order to 
 engage in it with more success, there was a necessity for 
 more of the spirit or the experience of business* This ex- 
 pression, at which we then smiled, we make use of now, 
 and apply it to the present case, with more propriety as we 
 think. Yes! we must bring to discussions like those to 
 which Pascal's book gives rise, the spirit of business, of that 
 business with which Pascal was engrossed, and which, he 
 thought, ought to absorb all the attention of a man. We 
 must not leave out anything which goes to the composition 
 of man. We must bring, and throw into the discussion, 
 his fears and his hopes, his joys and his sorrows, his external 
 and his internal life, the mind and the soul, the man of 
 time and the man of eternity. Thus, that is to say complete, 
 living and personal, such questions must find us. Other- 
 wise they will mock our efforts, and laugh at our certainties. 
 • This brings us back to the point from which we set out. 
 
292 LITERARY CRITIQUE ON M. V. COUSIN'S ESSAY. 
 
 The first editors of Pascal had not only the advantage of 
 knowing personally the author of this book. Although, 
 perhaps, they could not comprehend either the whole danger 
 of certain passages, or the whole bearing of some others, 
 they had the key of Pascal's thought and book, because they 
 had the same faith and the same experience that he had. 
 The suppressions, additions, and alterations which they 
 allowed themselves, are a sort of commentary, which may in 
 general be trusted; and let us say that without this com- 
 mentary, it is not certain that Pascal's book would ever have 
 seen the light. If the liberty which they took could be 
 justified, it would be by the sort of juridical rigour with which 
 the purified text of the Thoughts is now commented upon. 
 Commentary for commentary, I prefer theirs. In a literary 
 sense, their Pascal is not the true Pascal ; and the work of 
 M. Cousin is important in this view. It is so also as having 
 restored to this famous book all its characters of personality. 
 It is certain that we shall henceforth penetrate further into 
 the soul of this great man. But, as regards thought, the 
 Pascal of the first editors is a true and complete Pascal. 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 Note A, p. 4. 
 
 It seems to be assumed here that the truth of Christianity 
 is capable of being demonstrated by an a prio?*i argument. 
 But this is precluded by the character of the religion itself, 
 as based upon a fact or series of facts. It might indeed, by 
 various arguments, be shown to be not improbable, or even 
 to be more or less probable, that a God infinite in mercy 
 would interpose for the rescue of a fallen race of His crea- 
 tures ; it might be shown that there is nothing in the con- 
 stitution of our minds, and nothing in what we observe of 
 the course of God's providence, that renders such a supposi- 
 tion untenable. It might even be rendered extremely pro- 
 bable, that if any such interposition is to take place on the 
 part of God, it must be in a way fitted at once to glorify 
 His attributes of justice and of mercy ; and by an exhaustive 
 process we might be brought to the conclusion that this 
 could only be effected by means of an atonement. But all 
 this is of necessity only negative. The essential question 
 still remains one of simple fact, to be determined by appro- 
 priate evidence. Did Jesus of Nazareth live and obey, and 
 suffer and die and rise again, as is stated and represented 
 in the evangelical narratives, and was this Jesus a Divine 
 person? These questions, relating to a matter of history, 
 are answered affirmatively in well-authenticated historical 
 documents ; and, in the first instance, the Christian advo- 
 cate has only to authenticate these documents. His further 
 pleadings must, from the very nature of the case, be in the 
 form of answers to objections ; and, logically, he is not re- 
 
294 APPENDIX. 
 
 quired to anticipate objections, but must wait until they be 
 propounded. 
 
 Still it is quite true that a man of large heart and large 
 intellect might so understand the workings of the human 
 mind, as to ascertain, by a kind of divination, all the doubts 
 and the difficulties that could stagger the faith of different 
 classes of men, and might by anticipation answer all possible 
 objections before they were stated, and prevent difficulties 
 before they had arisen. This is what our author seems to 
 desiderate. 
 
 Yet it is no disparagement of oar evidential literature that 
 it is not of this character. It is of the nature of an apology 
 to be defensive. Where there is no attack, there is no call 
 for defence. Indeed, it seems to be not unworthy of remark, 
 that the very fact of the Christian defence being carried on 
 in this way gives an additional potency to the Christian 
 cause. The objections that have been brought against it 
 have been such as could never have been anticipated. They 
 have been derived from every department of human know- 
 ledge and human speculation. Yet they have all been suc- 
 cessively combated, and have either been set aside or turned 
 to the defence of the Christian faith. Now it appears to us 
 that, over and above the amount of proof that is derived from 
 each objection answered, there is a strong and well-founded 
 presumption in favour of the inviolability of the Christian 
 system, arising from the successive answers to so many suc- 
 cessive objections, that would not accrue from an anticipa- 
 tory answer to as many objections simultaneously stated by 
 an adversary, or simultaneously supposed by such a defender 
 as our author describes. Objections have come from so 
 many different quarters, and have so unvaryingly received 
 satisfactory answers, that we are almost irresistibly led to 
 the conclusion that every future objection will be equally 
 answerable. Thus we do not hold our faith merely in 
 abeyance, liable to have it shaken by every fresh objection 
 that may be raised against it, but we hold it with an assured 
 confidence, firmly persuaded, and reasonably persuaded, that 
 the citadel which has been assailed in vain from so many 
 
NOTE A. 295 
 
 quarters is impregnable, and that the result of every future 
 attack upon it will be to cover the assailants with confusion. 
 
 This is a reasonable persuasion, in strict accordance w r ith 
 the soundest doctrine of probability. Let us take the usual 
 illustration made use of by writers on this doctrine. Sup- 
 pose there were ten balls put into a bag, of which nine were 
 black and one white. It might easily be shown, mathemati- 
 cally, that the probability is very small that, if nine balls be 
 drawn out successively, the white should be the one that 
 remains undrawn. Now, then, if there be ten balls, and we 
 know nothing respecting their colour, and if nine of them 
 successively drawn are all black, the probability is very great 
 that the undrawn tenth is black also. The application to 
 the case before us is very obvious. The objections hitherto 
 produced have been all of one character, — that is, they have 
 been all invalid, — and a strong presumption is thus gene- 
 rated, that any objections yet to be produced shall be equally 
 invalid. And this presumption is greatly enhanced by the 
 fact, that the order in w T hich the objections are produced is 
 at the option of the objectors^ and not of the defenders. It 
 may surely be taken for granted that the most assailable, 
 points of the Christian citadel have been discovered in the 
 course of so many centuries, that the most obvious difficulties 
 have already been started, and the most plausible and 
 most probable objections have been propounded long ago. 
 The infidel vintage is past, the gleaning-grapes only re- 
 main ; and we may be sure that they are not less sour or 
 less shrivelled than those that have already been gathered. 
 
 Thus do we rejoice in the character of the actual Chris- 
 tian defence. It is not of such a kind that our faith may 
 refuse every challenge, but of such a kind that we may be 
 confident of our being victorious in every encounter. It is 
 thus with the Christian faith as a system, as it is with the 
 personal faith of the believer. As with the believer tribula- 
 tion worketh patience, and patience experience, and expe- 
 rience hope, and hope maketh not ashamed ; so each on- 
 slaught on the Christian system gives rise, by its repulse, to 
 an increased confidence and a more assured conviction. 
 
296 APPENDIX. 
 
 Note B, p. 8. 
 
 This is virtually the same statement respecting geometri- 
 cal reasoning that Locke, Brown, and others, have made 
 with respect to logical reasoning in general. In one sense 
 it is probably true, but not in that sense in which it is meant 
 to be understood. It maybe quite true that the well-known 
 proposition with respect to the equality of the squares on 
 two sides of a triangle containing a right angle to the square 
 of the side opposite to that angle, is but a particular case of 
 the far more general proposition, that things equal to the 
 same thing are equal to one another. But when such a 
 statement as this is made the basis of an argument against 
 the utility of geometrical or logical study, it is always used 
 as if it meant the same thing as that man can apprehend 
 the one of these truths as comprehended in the other ; else 
 the conclusion were not valid, that logical reasoning can give 
 no new information. Now this is not true. No human 
 mind perceives intuitively, or without the intervention of 
 many steps of reasoning, the connection between these two 
 truths, or the necessary sequence of the one from the other. 
 For aught w T e know, all truth may be so connected that it 
 might be all involved in some all-comprehensive formula ; 
 but if this be so, we know that it were only to an omniscient 
 mind that the enunciation of such formula would present or 
 suggest all the truth comprehended under it. 
 
 Nor is it correct to say that the starting-point in geometry 
 is a supposition. The starting-point is the definitions, axi- 
 oms, and postulates ; and in these there is nothing hypo- 
 thetical. If I should say that a plane triangle is a figure 
 contained by three straight lines, any two of which are 
 together less than the third, I should assume that there can 
 be such a figure, and the assumption would be false. If I 
 should say that a plane triangle is a figure contained by 
 three straight lines, any two of which are together greater 
 than the third, I should still make an assumption, — a true 
 one indeed, but not the less an assumption. But when I say 
 that a plane triangle is a figure contained by three straight 
 
NOTE c. 297 
 
 lines which meet one another, I only postulate that a straight 
 line exists between any two points whatever ; and this is no 
 supposition, but an absolute fact. And so it is with all 
 sound definitions. It might quite as well be said that it is 
 a supposition that two and two are four, as that there can 
 exist such a figure as a triangle or a circle ; and if the 
 truths of geometry be artificial, all truth is artificial. 
 
 Our author, indeed, seems, in the close of the paragraph, 
 happily to contradict what he had stated in the commence- 
 ment of it. He admits that geometrical demonstrations are 
 available for application to the purposes of life ; wdrich could 
 scarcely be the case if they were only capable of educing 
 artificial truth, which might be falsehood if the initial sup- 
 position were erroneous. He admits, moreover, that this 
 method is the only true method for the pursuit of truth ; and 
 this, if it be not saying too much, is certainly saying as 
 much as the most ardent lover of the mathematics could 
 desire. 
 
 Note C, p. 9. 
 
 There is no doubt that this is, in one respect, the natural 
 way of studying the Christian system ; that is, when it is to 
 be studied as a system of religion, as distinguished from a 
 s}^stem of theology. The great object of the Gospel is to 
 minister to the wants of man ; and until these wants are felt, 
 the Gospel can have little interest for him. It is when the 
 Spirit has convinced a man of his sin and misery, that he is 
 prepared to welcome the Gospel of salvation ; and until he 
 is so convinced, he can neither understand nor appreciate that 
 Gospel. 
 
 Yet sometimes, and perhaps not unfrequently, it is the 
 view of the Gospel system, seen first in the other light, that 
 the Spirit employs for producing in the heart of the sinner 
 that conviction which enables him to appreciate the Gospel. 
 He does not know how sinful he is, nor how evil and bitter 
 a thing sin is, until he sees that sin, and his sins, could not 
 be atoned for but by the deliverance to death of God's only- 
 
298 APPENDIX. 
 
 begotten Son. He first learns the greatness of his sin from 
 the greatness of the salvation, being assured that so great a 
 sacrifice would not have been provided if a smaller could 
 have been sufficient. 
 
 If a man were set down with the Bible in his hand, and 
 without any previous knowledge of the Gospel system, to 
 form a doctrinal system for himself, it is probable that he 
 would take the method pointed out in the text, as the mathe- 
 matician makes his discoveries by the analytic method ; but 
 in order to form a complete and symmetrical system, he 
 must be able to state synthetically what he has discovered 
 analytically. It appears, however, that there are great evils 
 almost inseparable from a too rigid and constant adherence 
 to either of the methods. If a man view the system of Divine 
 truth only objectively ', he may be a very orthodox theologian, 
 but he will probably be a very cold Christian. If he view 
 it only subjectively, he will be in great danger of making 
 his felt wants the measure and the standard of Divine truth. 
 It may be very true that there is no portion of Divine truth 
 that is not exactly fitted to supply a human want. But it 
 does not follow that every man, or any one man, experiences 
 all the wants of humanity. And the man who is in the 
 habit of looking at Divine truth only as he feels his own 
 wants, will almost of necessity overlook or undervalue a great 
 portion of it ; and the result will be a system virtually false, 
 because defective and disproportioned. 
 
 We venture to say that this appears to be the case with 
 a great deal of what is called the subjective theology of our 
 day. Its language seems to be very much of this sort : — 
 " 1 feel a desire to be made better, and to be enabled to hold 
 communion and fellowship with God ; therefore the Gospel 
 provides means whereby these ends may be effected. But 
 I feel no desire for an atonement (in the orthodox sense of 
 the term) ; therefore no such atonement can have been made." 
 But how do we know that such an atonement was not neces- 
 sary in order to our being made holy, and to our being 
 brought back into the fellowship of God ? Our desires have 
 respect only to the end ; and suppose they were worthy of 
 
NOTE D. 299 
 
 absolute trust as indicating the real desirableness of that 
 end, are we equally sure that they give us any correct in- 
 formation with respect to the means that must be employed 
 in order to the accomplishment of that end? The con- 
 demned criminal desires pardon and restoration to the privi- 
 leges of citizenship on any terms ; but the sovereign can 
 only grant pardon on certain conditions, of which he, and 
 not the criminal, must be the judge. 
 
 And then are we sure that our desires, or felt wants, are 
 commensurate with the supply provided in the Gospel? 
 Suppose that we do not want an atonement, does it follow 
 that none of our fellow-sinners do ? Suppose that ice can, 
 or think that we can, keep up religious and devotional feel- 
 ings in our hearts without the aid of Sabbath exercises, does 
 it follow that this is the case with all our fellow- Christians — 
 with those, for example, whose whole thoughts are engrossed 
 with their daily toil ? 
 
 On the subject of the right order of a theological course, 
 the sudent is referred to Dr Chalmers' posthumous works. 
 
 Note D, p. 12. 
 
 This is to be regarded as an instance of Pascal's " think- 
 ing aloud," and presenting us with the process, rather than 
 the result, of his thoughts. It is quite true that the idea of 
 causation cannot be proved, any more than our own existence 
 can be proved, or the axioms of geometry can be proved, 
 or the fundamental propositions in any science can be proved. 
 The fallacy of those who demand proof of those fundamental 
 principles, is involved in their overlooking or concealing the 
 meaning of the term proof. To prove a proposition, is to 
 show its dependence upon some other proposition to be such 
 that it must be true if that other proposition be true. I can 
 only prove C by showing that it follows necessarily from B, 
 But B was proved, and could only be proved, by showing 
 its dependence upon A; and we must at last come to a pro- 
 position A whose truth cannot be proved logically, but whose 
 truth must be postulated as axiomatic. The only proof 
 
300 APPENDIX. 
 
 (using the term in a loose sense) of which those axiomatic 
 truths, or first principles, are capable, is an appeal to the 
 consciousness of every man that he cannot disbelieve them. 
 
 In our author's subsequent reasonings on the subject of 
 Pyrrhonism this seems not to be sufficiently borne in mind. 
 If it were, the question would be brought within a very 
 narrow compass. If we refuse to admit axioms or intuitive 
 principles incapable of proof, from the very necessity of the 
 nature of proof, we cannot possibly avoid absolute scepticism. 
 There may, of course, be a question as to what are axioma- 
 tic truths ; but that there must be such truths assumed in 
 every process of proof, follows, as we have seen, from the very 
 nature of logical proof. 
 
 Of these axiomatic truths, the existence of causation is 
 one. " Invariable sequence " may be all that our observation 
 points out to us, and may be the only means that we have 
 of determining what is the cause of any particular pheno- 
 menon ; but the axiom that there must be a cause of the 
 phenomenon lies farther back, and is equally independent of 
 reasoning and of observation. 
 
 Our observation may be sufficient or insufficient, our 
 reasoning may be sound or fallacious ; but the major premiss 
 of the argument remains untouched, that every effect must 
 have a cause. This may indeed be regarded as an identical 
 proposition, as it would be difficult to give any definition of 
 the term u effect" that would not resolve itself into " the re- 
 sult of a cause;" but yet it is useful in leading us to search 
 for the causes of such effects as are observed. We may 
 notice that Mr Dove, in his " Logic of Faith," has attempted 
 to prove this axiom ; but, we venture to say, with indifferent 
 success. 
 
 Note E, p. 18. 
 
 It can scarcely be necessary to direct the student to Bishop 
 Butler's Sermons on Human Nature, or to Dr Chalmers' 
 Sermon on the Expulsive Power of a New Affection. 
 
 The Bible distinctly acknowledges the necessity of all the 
 affections being brought into subjection to one great affec- 
 
NOTE F. 301 
 
 tion, " the love of Christ." It has been too often forgotten 
 that all the affections of our nature were originally good. 
 There is no reason to suppose that any one of them exists in 
 fallen man which did not exist in unfallen man. The diffe- 
 rence is, that they are disproportioned and misdirected. The 
 great object ought therefore to be, not to eradicate, but to 
 sanctify them. Take, for example, the affection of anger. 
 There are many who seem to think that this affection is 
 always and necessarily sinful. Now that it is very frequently 
 so, and that it is always mixed with sin, is indisputable. But 
 yet it has a legitimate purpose and use ; and if we could con- 
 ceive a man incapable of this feeling, he would be an imper- 
 fect man. -We know few instances more striking of the 
 perfect adaptation of the Bible to our human nature than 
 the precept of the Apostle, " Be ye angry, and sin not." No 
 one, of course, will understand this as an injunction to be 
 angry, but as a warning that when we are angry, as it is 
 assumed that we will be, we are in peculiar danger of sin. 
 The emotion is not in itself necessarily sinful, but it is 
 dangerous. We may be angry with our brother without a 
 cause. We may be angry to an undue extent, or in undue 
 continuance, — letting the sun go down upon our wrath. We 
 may be angry in proportion only as the offence affects our- 
 selves, and not in proportion to its real demerits ; and in 
 various other ways we may be sinfully angry. Causeless 
 anger is sin, disproportionate and implacable anger is sin, 
 selfish anger is sin, unrestrained anger is sin ; but anger in 
 itself is no more sin than hunger or thirst, or joy or love. 
 
 And so with the other affections of our nature. They 
 were all originally good, as they were implanted in us by 
 our Creator ; they are all capable of being restored to good- 
 ness under the influence of Divine grace. The object of the 
 Gospel is not to make us cease to be men, but to make us 
 holy men. 
 
 Note F, p. 22. 
 
 " All truth," says Cowper, " is from the sempeternal source 
 of truth Divine." If we could trace the sunbeams far enough 
 
302 APPENDIX. 
 
 back, they would all lead us to that sun from which they 
 emanate. Already almost every branch of human science 
 has been shown to lead to natural theology; and natural 
 theology, at once by its uses and its imperfections, points us 
 to the revealed theology as the necessary supplement of 
 itself. On this latter subject there is an admirable chapter in 
 Dr Chalmers' Natural Theology, in which he compares Re- 
 velation to the higher calculus as compared with the ordinary 
 mathematical processes. The various sciences propose ques- 
 tions which they cannot solve, and more or less prepare them 
 for solution. 
 
 This, although only an illustration, is so apt and apposite 
 a one, that it may serve as the basis of an argument to this 
 effect. The more the lower mathematics are advanced, and 
 the nearer they are brought to perfection, the greater is the 
 number of those questions which they will evolve, and the 
 more frequent the necessity for the appeal to the higher 
 mathematics. It is not in the nature of the lower ever to 
 take the place of the higher, but only to make the higher 
 more and more indispensable. And so the advance of science 
 does not and cannot supersede the necessity of revelation, 
 but only makes revelation the more absolutely necessary. 
 Fourteen centuries ago a Father of the Church wrote a noble 
 passage, which we may thus literally translate : — " Whence 
 comes it that Paul is so constantly in the mouths of men all 
 over the world f Whence is it that he is held in such ad- 
 miration, not amongst us alone, but even amongst the Jews 
 and the Greeks ! Is it not from the power of his epistles, 
 by which he has blessed, and is to bless, not only the faithful 
 that then were, but also those that are to this day, and those 
 that shall be till the last coming of Christ ? And this he 
 shall not cease to do while the human race remains. For 
 as a wall built of adamant, so his writings fortify the Church 
 all over the world. And he stands in the midst of us now, 
 like some noble chieftain, bringing into captivity every 
 thought to the obedience of Christ, and casting down every 
 high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God. 
 And all this he accomplishes by means of those marvellous 
 
NOTE F. 303 
 
 epistles which he has left us, so full of Divine wisdom." * If 
 this called forth the wonder and admiration of Chrysostom 
 in his day, how much more may it excite ours, who see his 
 prediction fulfilled in a manner, and to an extent, of which, 
 when he uttered it, he could scarcely have any conception ! 
 Amidst all the strange phenomena of this wonderful age, 
 perhaps one of the strangest to the reflecting mind is the 
 manner in which, and the extent to which, the intellect and 
 the conduct, the modes of thinking, and feeling, and acting 
 of men in all countries and of all classes, are, consciously or 
 unconsciously, under the influence of this Cilician tent- 
 maker. And as hitherto the prediction of the sagacious 
 Father has been fulfilled to an extent far beyond what he 
 could possibly have anticipated, so we may be well assured 
 that the portion of it which refers to times still future, shall 
 receive a similar and constantly extending fulfilment. The 
 discoveries of this age may lose their brilliancy and pale 
 their fires before the brighter light of the science of future 
 times. The inventions that now excite our admiration by 
 their magnitude, their usefulness, and their elegance, may 
 perhaps call forth the equal wonder of our great-grand- 
 children by their littleness and their clumsiness. The men 
 of future times may perhaps look back to our age with the 
 same kind of pity and conscious superiority with which we 
 review the history of semi-barbarous ages, and may congra- 
 tulate themselves that it is not appointed to them, as to us, 
 to live in the age of the infancy of invention and discovery. 
 But differ from us as they may, and excel us as they may 
 and almost certainly will, we may be sure that they will not 
 feel themselves less dependent than our predecessors were, 
 and we are, upon the Divine wisdom that is stored up in 
 these writings. Rather, as the expansion of their minds and 
 ideas, and the extension and complication of their social re- 
 lations, bring them into contact with a larger circle of wants 
 and duties, the more will they feel the necessity of having 
 recourse constantly to this Divine directory. 
 
 1 See the original quoted in Conybeare and Howson's "Life and 
 Epistles of St Paul." 
 
304 APPENDIX. 
 
 But perhaps the most remarkable feature of the case is 
 the way in which even infidels are unconsciously under the 
 influence of Christian truth and Christian morals. They 
 attack the Bible with weapons derived from the armoury of 
 the Bible. They say that they want no revelation, because the 
 light of nature is sufficient to guide us to all that is necessary 
 to be known respecting what we are to believe concerning 
 God, and the duty which God requires of us ; either not 
 knowing, or wilfully concealing, that the light of which they 
 speak is not the light of nature at all, but a light emanating 
 from the very revelation which they undervalue. We want 
 no sun, they say in substance; the ordinary daylight is quite 
 sufficient for all our purposes. But whence comes that 
 daylight but from the sun ? Diffused through the atmos- 
 phere, refracted and reflected in countless ways, its origin is 
 forgotten ; but that origin is the very same with that of the 
 direct beams which we can trace back to their source. " Chris- 
 tianity," says a writer of our own day, " has left a separate 
 system of ideals amongst men, which (as regards their de- 
 velopment) are continually growing in authority. Waters, 
 after whatever course of wandering, rise to the level of their 
 original springs. Christianity lying so far above all other 
 fountains of religious influence, no wonder that its irrigations 
 rise to altitudes otherwise unknown, and from which the dis- 
 tribution to every level of country becomes comparatively 
 easy. Those men are reached often — choosing or not choos- 
 ing — by the healing streams, who have not sought them or 
 even recognised them. Infidels of the most determined 
 class talk in Christian lands the morals of Christianity, and 
 exact that morality with their hearts, constantly mistaking 
 it for a morality co-extensive with man. And why? Sim- 
 ply from having been moulded unawares by its universal 
 pressure through infancy, childhood, manhood, in the nur- 
 sery, in the school, in the market-place." — De Quincey's 
 Leaders in Literature. 
 
NOTE G. 305 
 
 Note G, p. 29. 
 
 It is perhaps worthy of more consideration than we are 
 aware of its having received, whether the Theism which is 
 founded on a priori reasoning, be not essentially a system of 
 Pantheism. The unsatisfactory nature of Dr Clarke's a priori 
 argument is well shown by Dr Chalmers in the chapter on 
 that subject in his Natural Theology. And his statements 
 are perhaps equally applicable to all other forms of the same 
 argument. But it remains to be considered whether, if an 
 argument of this kind could be made perfectly convincing, 
 and convincing to all, as to the existence of God, its effect 
 would not be rather to lead us from than to a right appre- 
 hension of the nature and character of God, and of His 
 relation towards us. A God who should be simply the 
 depositary of all truth, is not the God with whom it concerns 
 us to have to do. We venture to suggest that the true way, 
 as it is doubtless the most natural way, to attain to as much 
 knowledge of God as the light of nature can furnish, is to 
 trace back the road that terminates in the knowledge that 
 man was made in the image of God. Abstracting from 
 man, as we find him, all the depravation of his character as 
 a sinner, and all the necessary imperfection of his nature as 
 a creature, we perhaps come as near as it is competent I for 
 us to come to the idea of God, as Pie is pleased that He 
 should be known to us. Nor is there any great danger of our 
 being led into the errors of Anthropomorphism or An thro- 
 popathy. We may, of course, err in this line of investigation 
 as in every other ; but it does seem that while we are in this 
 path, we are going in the right direction. Certainly this is 
 the path that the Bible points out to us, for we may safely 
 say that all its representations of God are of this character ; 
 and we cannot think that this is merely by way of accom- 
 modation, or from the necessary imperfection of all state- 
 ments on such a subject conveyed in human language. We 
 cannot believe that it is merely a figure of speech that is 
 used, when God is represented as saying to us, "As one 
 whom his mother comforteth, so will I comfort thee;" or 
 
 2 C 
 
306 APPENDIX. 
 
 that there is not a great and a true principle involved in our 
 Lord's reasoning, " If ye who are evil know to give good gifts 
 unto your children, how much more shall your Father in 
 heaven give good things to them that ask Him ? " 
 
 Note H, p. 37. 
 
 This does not appear to be quite a correct statement of 
 the actual case. The intercourse of the risen Saviour with 
 His disciples seems rather to have been in the way of re- 
 peatedly * appearing " to them, than permanently or con- 
 tinuously abiding with them. These appearances were at 
 various times, to various numbers, and of various duration. 
 Why He did not resume His intercourse with them on the 
 former terms we cannot explain; but we believe that the 
 explanation is to be sought for, and probably found, in the 
 w^ords that He addressed to one of them on the morning of 
 His resurrection, " Touch me not, for I am not yet ascended 
 to My Father." We have no doubt that these words con- 
 tain the statement of a sufficient reason for the restriction of 
 His intercourse with His disciples during the forty days of 
 His sojourn upon earth after His resurrection, announcing, 
 as they evidently do, a solemn mystery respecting the posi- 
 tion that He now occupied with reference to God and man 
 - — no longer charged with the guilt which He had borne 
 during the previous period of His incarnation, since that 
 guilt had been washed away by His blood, but yet awaiting 
 the full attestation of His deliverance from that guilt, which 
 was to be consummated by His elevation to the throne on 
 the right hand of the Majesty on high. This reason, we 
 have little doubt, is comprehensible, although w r e confess 
 that we have not yet been able to comprehend it. We can- 
 not believe that it had reference merely to the physical con- 
 stitution of His resurrection -body, but rather to the altered 
 relation in which He now stood towards the God whose will 
 He came to do, and had clone, and the men whom He came 
 to redeem, and had redeemed, and to the transition-state in 
 
NOTE H. 307 
 
 which He now was between His humiliation and His exalta- 
 tion. 
 
 But the actual case is just as strong in support of our 
 author's argument as that which he puts. If an impostor 
 could Jhave persuaded the disciples, throughout so many in- 
 terviews as He had with them, that he was the very friend 
 whom they knew so well and loved so dearly, he could have 
 kept up the delusion throughout a continuous intercourse 
 of forty clays or of forty years. The difficulty which an im- 
 postor would have had to encounter, would have met him at 
 the first step. If that could have been got over, the diffi- 
 culty would have become ever less and less. But this initial 
 difficulty could not by possibility have been surmounted. 
 There have, indeed, been strange instances of " mistaken 
 identity ; " but no one on record is comparable for strange- 
 ness to the supposed one of the disciples taking another for 
 Jesus. It was not only necessary that the impostor should 
 have a perfect personal resemblance to Him whom he pro- 
 posed to counterfeit, but that he should have a perfect know- 
 ledge of every particular of their lives, and every feature of 
 their characters. Else they would have checked him at 
 every point. If any man whom I have never seen or know T n 
 before, can, in repeated interviews, sustain the character of 
 a person with whom I have associated on the most intimate 
 terms for the last three years, and from whom I parted only 
 three days ago, and if I cannot convict him of imposture by 
 the cross-questioning of ordinary conversation, I have no 
 recourse but to give up all belief in the difference between 
 truth and falsehood, and fall back upon absolute and uni- 
 versal scepticism. 
 
 In fact, it is with this as with some other branches of the 
 Christian evidence. Either the proof is complete, or no 
 proof can be complete, nothing can be known, nothing can 
 be believed. Either Christianity is true or nothing is true. 
 My own existence and that of the world around me may be 
 but a vain imagination. The cogito, ergo sum argument may 
 be unsound in its premises and its conclusion. Be it so. 
 If I do not exist, then certainly I do not think, I do not be- 
 
308 APPENDIX. 
 
 lieve, and nothing can do me any harm. But on the sup- 
 position that I do exist, and that I think, and reason, and 
 am responsible, I must believe what is accredited by such 
 evidence. 
 
 Note I, p. 40. 
 
 Two points may be mentioned as not unworthy of notice, 
 as showing the suicidal character of the infidel argument, 
 so far as it proceeds upon the supposition that the apostles 
 were impostors. They may seem to some to be merely 
 paradoxical, but to us they appear to be a legitimate reductio 
 ad absurdnm. We shall not dwell upon them at any length. 
 
 1. The first point may be thus stated, — On the supposition 
 that the apostles were impostors, the viler they were the more 
 credible is their testimony. 
 
 Experience shows us that it is almost, or quite, impossible 
 to get twelve good men to act in perfect harmony for the 
 advancement of a good cause in w r hich they are all deeply 
 interested ; but that twelve bad men should have agreed in 
 propagating a base lie, and that no one of them, in any cir- 
 cumstances, should ever have swerved from its assertion, is 
 utterly inconceivable. We do, indeed, hear of " honour 
 among thieves," and perhaps some are misled by the expres- 
 sion into the belief that honour is more prevalent among them 
 than amongst other men. But this is not the case. The 
 only remarkable thing is, that even in its lowest form it 
 should exist among such men at all ; and in any other than 
 its lowest form it has never been proved to exist amongst 
 them. But in the case supposed, the apostles must have 
 been the vilest and the basest of impostors ; and therefore 
 there is a certainty that at least some one of them must have 
 betrayed his associates, and disclosed the conspiracy. Here, 
 then, is the dilemma to which the infidel is reduced : either 
 (a) twelve men of the most exalted and chivalrous honour (as 
 indicated by the unparalleled constancy with which they ad- 
 hered to the engagement into which they had entered with 
 one another) conspired to propagate a most base and bias- 
 
NOTE I. 309 
 
 phemous lie ; or (b) twelve of the vilest hypocrites and liars 
 (as indicated by their entering into the engagement at all) 
 exhibited during the whole of their subsequent lives the most 
 exalted and incorruptible honour of which we have any re- 
 cord in human history ! Or take it thus : — If the apostles 
 were true men, they were the basest of liars ; if they were 
 liars, they were the most truthful of men ! 
 
 It is thus that concurring testimony has a value apart 
 altogether from the character of the witnesses, or our experi- 
 ence of their individual veracity, yea, rather, as we have in- 
 timated, in inverse than in direct proportion to that veracity. 
 
 2. The second point is, that the improbability of the state- 
 ment deponed to makes it all the more probable that concurrent 
 yet independent testimony is true. — If a man tell me that it 
 rained at Glasgow yesterday, the thing is so probable that 
 he may be only proceeding upon his own notion of its like- 
 lihood ; but if he tell me that on the day of the summer 
 solstice the ground was thickly covered with snow, I know 
 that at all events he is professing to make a statement of 
 fact, and not a statement of mere probability ; and if I find 
 that all the people that I meet who have been there give the 
 same account, and if these include persons that I know to 
 be unknown to each other, and that I know to have had no 
 communication with each other, the a priori improbability 
 of the thing stated is so far from being a bar to the credibi- 
 lity of the statement, that it is the very circumstance which 
 makes it inconceivable that all could have stumbled acci- 
 dentally upon the same statement. " Truth is one, error is 
 manifold ;" and the more improbable a truth is, the more 
 unlikely that it should be guessed at ; the more improbable 
 a statement is, the more unlikely that, not being true, it 
 should be agreed in by independent witnesses. 
 
 But where, in the actual case, are the independent wit- 
 nesses ? There are all those who on the day of Pentecost 
 experienced that which was a necessary consequence of the 
 resurrection and ascension of Christ, and which could not 
 have taken place but for that resurrection and that ascension ; 
 and there is Paul, a witness, of all others, the most free from 
 
310 APPENDIX. 
 
 all suspicion of collusion, who declared that he actually saw 
 and heard the voice of the risen Saviour. 
 
 Note J, p. 41. 
 
 The department of the " experimental" evidence, as dis- 
 tinguished from both the external and internal evidences of 
 Christianity, is perhaps too little regarded as a branch merely 
 of apologetics. While it is generally admitted to be powerful 
 for the confirmation of the faith of Christians, it is supposed 
 to have no power to produce conviction in the minds of those 
 who are not Christians. And this is true if we confine the 
 term " experimental evidence" within the limits that are 
 generally assigned to it. If we mean by it only the evi- 
 dence that results from the experience of the blessed effects 
 that result from the personal reception of the Gospel, and its 
 felt suitableness to the wants and circumstances of fallen men, 
 then of course an essential prerequisite to the appreciation 
 of this evidence is the actual embracing of the religion. But 
 it seems to us that a much larger department of evidence is 
 so closely allied to this, indeed so identical in its principle as 
 evidence, that it ought to be comprehended under the same 
 term. We refer to all that evidence which is derived from 
 the effect that is produced upon individuals, communities, 
 and nations, by the reception of the Gospel. This is an im- 
 portant branch of the Christian evidence ; and it is strictly 
 experimental, differing from that which ordinarily is so de- 
 nominated only in this, that in the one case each man must 
 make the experiment for himself on the small personal scale, 
 whereas, in the other case, he has only to observe the ex- 
 periment as made already and recorded, or being made before 
 his eyes both on individuals and on the large national scale. 
 It may be questioned whether any branch of the Christian 
 evidence be more extensively effective than this, not perhaps 
 so much in convincing infidels as in arresting the attention 
 of the careless and the worldly. Every Christian is a wit- 
 ness for the excellence and the Divine origin of the Gospel, a 
 city set upon a hill, a living epistle known and read of all 
 
NOTE K, 311 
 
 men. It is to this evidence that our Saviour refers when 
 He says to His followers, " Let your light so shine before 
 men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your 
 Father which is in heaven." All writers on the evidences, 
 and indeed all preachers of the Gospel, recognise the im- 
 portance of this branch of the argument ; but we do not re- 
 member any one who classes it, as we think it ought to be 
 classed, as a very important division of the experimental 
 evidence, as precisely the same in principle with what is 
 usually denoted by that term. u One thing I know, that 
 whereas I was blind, now I see," is the formula which sym- 
 bolises the personal-experimental. " We know that this man 
 was born blind, and that now he seeth," is the expression of 
 the observational-experimental. 
 
 It is undoubted, however, that no conviction produced by 
 reasoning can ever be so intimate, so operative, so Christian, 
 as that which is produced by personal experience of the ex- 
 cellence of the Gospel. It is the foundation of faith, in the 
 Christian sense, as distinguished from mere belief or convic- 
 tion founded upon external proof. The latter has fulfilled 
 its part when it has made a man a believer in Christianity ; 
 it is in virtue of the former that he becomes a Christian. 
 This may seem contradictory, since it is only to the Christian 
 that this evidence addresses itself. Yes ; but the germ of it 
 is contemporaneous with, or antecedent to, his embracing of 
 the Gospel. The sinner, convinced of his sin and misery, 
 has his mind so far enlightened in the knowledge of Christ 
 as to perceive the suitableness of the Gospel to remedy the 
 evils of his condition, and so he embraces Jesus Christ as 
 his Saviour. From that hour the evidence grows stronger 
 and stronger. There is a mutual action and reaction between 
 his faith and his experience. 
 
 Note K, p. 48. 
 
 The student may notice how exactly Pascal, acting as he 
 is here represented, treads in the footsteps of Bacon. The 
 whole of the first book of the Novum Organwm is occupied 
 with considerations fitted to remove prejudices, and to render 
 
312 APPENDIX. 
 
 the minds of men well affected towards the method which 
 is to be propounded in the second book. " Here, then," 
 says he, " we ought to close the destructive part of our 
 work, which consists of three refutations : that of the human 
 mind unassisted and left to itself; that of erroneous modes ot 
 proof; and that of theories, or of the prevailing systems and 
 doctrines. Our refutation of these has been such as alone 
 it could, by means of the evidence of causes, since no other 
 refutation was available to us, who differ from others regard- 
 ing first principles and modes of reasoning. 
 
 " Hence it is time that we should come to the art and method 
 of interpreting nature ; yet there still remains something to 
 which we must previously advert. For, since in this first book 
 of Aphorisms it is our design to prepare the minds of men both 
 for understanding and for receiving the things that follow, 
 — the field of the mind having been now cleansed, and 
 smoothed, and levelled, — it remains that the mind be placed 
 in a good attitude, and as it w T ere with a benevolent aspect, 
 towards those things which w T e propose. For, in a new thing, 
 not only the prepossession of a strong contrary opinion, but 
 also a false preconception or idea of the matter which is pro- 
 posed, tends to produce prejudice. . Therefore we shall en- 
 deavour to lead men to entertain good and correct opinions 
 concerning those things which we present to them, though 
 these opinions be but temporary, and designed to last until 
 the things themselves be known." — Nov. Org., Book I., 
 Aph.115. 
 
 It is therefore quite in accordance with the spirit of the 
 Baconian philosophy that men should proceed to the examin- 
 ation of the evidences of Christianity w r ith a certain amount 
 of desire to find that it is true, founded upon a strong con- 
 viction of its excellence. To be in a state of absolute indif- 
 ference is neither possible nor desirable. Now, a prejudice 
 against the Gospel, or a dislike to it, will be far more likely 
 to lead men to magnify and give undue weight to the objec- 
 tions that are brought against it, than a strong conviction of 
 its excellence will be to lead them to overlook defects in the 
 proofs and reasonings in its support. 
 
NOTES L, M. 313 
 
 Note L, p. 78. 
 
 It certainly requires M. Vinet's qualification to make 
 Pascal's statement reasonable ; as otherwise truth, instead of 
 being an absolute thing, would be made to depend upon 
 human courage or human timidity. It ought also to be re- 
 marked, that it is not necessary that all the witnesses of a 
 certain history should thus avouch their sincerity. The 
 conclusion is, that the testimony must be rejected only if 
 the history has not rendered itself mistress of the whole 
 heart of any of those who attest it. A single martyrdom is 
 sufficient to attest any testimony, so far as the sincerity of 
 the testifier is concerned. And additional martyrdoms do 
 not add to the strength of this attestation, excepting in so far 
 as they show that the original martyrdom did not proceed 
 from any recklessness or indifference to life in the proto- 
 martyr. It is conceivable that in some abnormal case there 
 should be this suicidal disregard of life, which w r ould make 
 martyrdom of no value as an attestation. Now, the multi- 
 plication of martyrdoms takes away this possibility, and so 
 far they confirm the testimony already sealed with blood. 
 But in no way can apostasy or recantation detract from the 
 value of such testimony. The history has already shown 
 that it has made itself mistress of the whole hearts of some 
 of the witnesses. The fact that it has not so done with all, 
 only shows that the minds of others were less honest, or per- 
 haps only less courageous. 
 
 Note M, p. 91. 
 
 This seems a very obvious truth, yet it is one often over- 
 looked. It is expressed in very similar terms by Lord 
 Bacon : — 
 
 " The opinion which men entertain of antiquity is vain 
 and almost self-contradictory. For the old age of the world 
 ought to be reckoned antiquity ; and this is rather the attri- 
 bute of our times than of the past ages, during which the 
 world was comparatively young. For that age was ancient 
 
 2D 
 
314 APPENDIX. 
 
 in respect of us, but new and young in respect of the world. 
 And just as we expect a greater knowledge of business and a 
 more mature judgment from an old than from a young man, 
 on account of his greater experience and the variety of 
 things that he has seen and heard, in like manner it were 
 reasonable to expect much greater things from our age than 
 from ancient times, if this age only knew its own resources, 
 and would exert its strenuous endeavours ; since, as the 
 world has been growing older, there has been an accumula- 
 tion of a vast multitude of experiments and observations. 
 
 66 Moreover, it is not to be deemed of small moment that 
 by means of distant voyages and travels, which have become 
 common in our day, many things in nature have been un- 
 folded and discovered which may cast new light upon philo- 
 sophy. Surely it would be disgraceful to men if all the 
 regions of the material globe, and immensity of land and sea, 
 and innumerable heavenly bodies, have been discovered and 
 surveyed during our days, and yet the confines of the intel- 
 lectual world should be found to be as narrow as ever." — 
 Nov. Org., Book I., Aph. 84. 
 
 See also Dr Chalmers's Sermon on the Respect due to 
 Antiquity. 
 
 We question whether the misjudgment which Bacon here 
 exposes might not have been included under his u Idols 
 of the Forum." It appears that the use of the terms ancient, 
 old, etc., has a good deal to do with the undue feeling of defer- 
 ence to the opinions of antiquity. Even with respect to 
 their physical age, we find it difficult to think of some of the 
 ancients as other than old venerable sages ; although, of 
 course, we hioiv that they were all boys and youths once, 
 and that some of the most distinguished of them never became 
 old men at all. 
 
 Note N, p. 95. 
 
 " In a certain point of view," and with reference to the 
 generality of men, this is doubtless true. But it is in the 
 highest degree desirable that in all departments of know- 
 
NOTE O. 315 
 
 ledge there should be some who know all that can be known 
 of one thing ; otherwise knowledge can never be advanced. 
 Suppose it be granted that the diffusion of knowledge among 
 the many is the ultimate end, yet the intensity of knowledge 
 on the part of the few is essential as a means to that end. 
 Every person now knows a little about the doctrines of 
 astronomy. For this we are indebted, in the first instance, to 
 the men who have discovered these doctrines, and they never 
 would have discovered them unless they had restricted them- 
 selves to their close and profound investigation. There is 
 no incompatibility between the wide diffusion of general 
 knowledge, and the profound study of special knowledge. 
 
 Note O, p. 96. 
 
 Compare the following aphorisms of Lord Bacon : — 
 u Concerning those things which seem common, let men 
 consider this, that till now they have been accustomed to do 
 nought else than to refer and accommodate the causes of 
 those things which are rare to those which happen fre- 
 quently, and not to inquire as to the causes of these latter, 
 but to take them as granted and admitted. Therefore 
 they do not inquire into the causes of weight, of the re- 
 volution of the heavenly bodies, of heat, cold, light, hard- 
 ness, softness, rarity, density, fluidity, solidity, animation, 
 inanimation, similarity, dissimilarity, organisation ; but re- 
 garding these things as evident and manifest, they dispute 
 and judge concerning other things, which do not occur so 
 frequently and familiarly. But we who know well that no 
 judgment can be formed concerning rare or remarkable 
 things, much less new things be brought to light, without 
 inquiring into and discovering the causes of ordinary things, 
 and the causes of these causes, are of necessity compelled to 
 admit the most ordinary things into our history. Indeed, 
 we think that nothing has been more hurtful to philosophy 
 than that things which are familiar and of frequent occur- 
 rence do not attract the attention of men, and their causes 
 are not inquired into. So that information concerning 
 
316 APPENDIX. 
 
 things unknown is not more needed than attention and re- 
 gard to those that are known. 
 
 " But as regards the utility of things, or even their base- 
 ness, those things must be received into our natural history, 
 not less than the most elegant and precious. Nor is natu- 
 ral history thereby polluted ; for the sun shines equally 
 upon palaces and dunghills, and is not thereby polluted. 
 But our object is not to dedicate or rear a capitol or pyra- 
 mid to the pride of men, but to found in the human under- 
 standing a sacred temple, after the model of the universe. 
 And that pattern we follow. For whatever is worthy to 
 exist is worthy also to be known, knowledge being the image 
 of existence. But vile things exist as well as elegant things. 
 Moreover, as the best odours, as musk, etc., are sometimes 
 
 I)roduced from certain putrid substances, so also excellent 
 ight and information often proceed from vile and sordid in- 
 stances. But we have said too much of this, for this fastidi- 
 ousness is childish and effeminate." — -Nov, Org., Book i., 
 Aph. 119, 120. 
 
 Note P, p. 116. 
 
 These seem to correspond pretty closely to Bacon's 
 " Idols." Indeed, the idea involved in the term " images " 
 (les images), is an exact transcript of that involved in the 
 term " idols" (eidola, eih&jka). That idea is not, as it is 
 sometimes stated, that as men substitute idols in place of the 
 true God, according to their own fancies, so we put our own 
 imaginations in the place of truth ; but rather, that we put 
 incorrect images or pictures in the place of things as they 
 are. The term idols is not used by Bacon in its theological, 
 but in its metaphysical sense, according to its proper etymo- 
 logical meaning. A more correct, or at least a less ambigu- 
 ous, rendering of it would be phantasms, although, if we 
 w r ere translating Bacon, we should prefer retaining the term 
 with an explanation. The great doctrine of Bacon in this 
 part of his work is, that our minds do not come into contact 
 with things as they are, but with phantasms or pictures of 
 
NOTE Q. 317 
 
 these things more or less erroneous; their erroneousness being 
 caused either — 1, by the incapacity of human nature in 
 general to form correct ideas of things as they are (eidola 
 tribus) ; 2, the special incapacity of individual men on ac- 
 count, of their natural or educational peculiarities (eidola 
 specus) ; 3, the erroneousness of the ideas that are generated 
 and perpetuated by the inadequacy of language (eidola 
 fori) ; or, 4, the misconceptions that take their rise in philo- 
 sophical systems or theories (eidola theatri). 
 
 Note Q, p. 118. 
 
 This subject is treated with wonderful power in Dr 
 Chalmers' Astronomical Discourses. The following passage 
 is the aptest that we can select of moderate length, and is 
 probably one of the most eloquent in our language : — 
 
 a Our sun may, therefore, be only one member of a higher 
 family — taking his part, along with millions of others, in 
 some loftier system of mechanism, by which they a"re all 
 subjected to one law, and to one arrangement — describing 
 the sweep of such an orbit in space, and completing the 
 mighty revolution in such a period of time, as to reduce our 
 planetary seasons, and our planetary movements, to a very 
 humble and fractionary rank in the scale of a higher astron- 
 omy. There is room for all this in immensity ; and there is 
 even argument for all this in the records of actual observa- 
 tion ; and, from the whole of this speculation, do we gather 
 a new emphasis to the lesson, how minute is the place, and 
 how secondary is the importance of our world, amid the 
 glories of such a surrounding magnificence. 
 
 " But there is still another very interesting track of specu- 
 lation which has been opened up to us by the more recent 
 observations of astronomy. What we allude to is the dis- 
 covery of the nebulce. We allow that it is but a dim and 
 indistinct light which this discovery has thrown upon the 
 structure of the universe ; but still it has spread before the 
 eye of the mind a field of very wide and lofty contemplation. 
 Anterior to this discovery, the universe might appear to have 
 
318 APPENDIX. 
 
 been composed of an indefinite number of suns, about equi- 
 distant from each other, uniformly scattered over space, and 
 each encompassed by such a planetary attendance as takes 
 place in our own system. But, we have now reason to 
 think, that instead of lying uniformly, and in a state of equi- 
 distance from each other, they are arranged into distinct 
 clusters ; that, in the same manner as the distance of the 
 nearest fixed stars, so inconceivably superior to that of our 
 planets from each other, marks the separation of the solar 
 systems, so the distance of two contiguous clusters may be 
 so inconceivably superior to the reciprocal distance of those 
 fixed stars which belong to the same cluster, as to mark an 
 equally distinct separation of the clusters, and to constitute 
 each of them an individual member of some higher and more 
 extended arrangement. This carries us upwards through 
 another ascending step in the scale of magnificence, and 
 there leaves us in the uncertainty, whether even here the 
 wonderful progression is ended ; and, at all events, fixes the 
 assured conclusion in our minds, that, to an eye which could 
 spread itself over the whole, the mansion which accommo- 
 dates our species might be so very small as to lie wrapped in 
 microscopical concealment ; and, in reference to the only 
 Being who possesses this universal eye, well might we say, 
 ' What is man, that Thou art mindful of him ; or the son 
 of man, that Thou shouldest deign to visit him V 
 
 " And, after all, though it be a mighty and difficult con- 
 ception, yet who can question it ? What is seen may be 
 nothing to what is unseen ; for what is seen is limited by 
 the range of our instruments. What is unseen has no 
 limit ; and, though all which the eye of man can take in, 
 or his fancy can grasp, were swept away, there might still 
 remain as ample a field, over which the Divinity may expa- 
 tiate, and which He may have peopled with innumerable 
 w r orlds. If the whole visible creation were to disappear, it 
 would leave a solitude behind it ; but to the Infinite Mind, 
 that can take in the whole system of nature, this solitude 
 might be nothing, — a small unoccupied point in that im- 
 mensity which surrounds it, and which He may have filled 
 
NOTE Q. 319 
 
 with the wonders of His omnipotence. Though this earth 
 were to be burned up, though the trumpet of its dissolution 
 were sounded, though yon sky were to pass away as a scroll, 
 and every visible glory, which the finger of the Divinity has 
 inscribed on it, were to be put out for ever, — an event so 
 awful to us, and to every world in our vicinity, by which so 
 many suns would be extinguished, and so many varied 
 scenes of life and of population would rush into forgetful- 
 ness, — what is it in the high scale of the Almighty's work- 
 manship? A mere shred which, though scattered into nothing, 
 would leave the universe of God one entire scene of great- 
 ness and of majesty. Though this earth, and these heavens, 
 were to disappear, there are other worlds which roll afar ; 
 the light of other suns shines upon them ; and the sky 
 which mantles them is garnished with other stars. Is it 
 presumption to say that the moral world extends to these 
 distant and unknown regions ? that they are occupied with 
 people ? that the charities of home and of neighbourhood 
 flourish there ? that the praises of God are there lifted up, 
 and His goodness rejoiced in ? that piety has there its 
 temples and its offerings ? and the richness of the Divine 
 attributes is there felt and admired by intelligent wor- 
 shippers ? 
 
 " And what is this world in the immensity which teems 
 with them — and what are they who occupy it ? The uni- 
 verse at large would suffer as little, in its splendour and 
 variety, by the destruction of our planet, as the verdure and 
 sublime magnitude of a forest would suffer by the fall of a 
 single leaf. The leaf quivers on the branch which supports 
 it. It lies at the mercy of the slightest accident. A breath 
 of wind tears it from its stem, and it lights on the stream of 
 water which passes underneath. In a moment of time, the 
 life which w r e know, by the microscope, it teems with, is ex- 
 tinguished ; and an occurrence so insignificant in the eye of 
 man, and on the scale of his observation, carries in it, to the 
 myriads which people this little leaf, an event as terrible and 
 as decisive as the destruction of a world. Now, on the 
 grand scale of the universe, w T e, the occupiers of this ball, 
 
320 APPENDIX. 
 
 which performs its little round among the suns and the sys- 
 tems that astronomy has unfolded — we may feel the same 
 littleness and the same insecurity. We differ from the leaf 
 only in this circumstance, that it would require the operation 
 of greater elements to destroy us. But these elements exist. 
 The fire which rages within may lift its devouring energy to 
 the surface of our planet, and transform it into one wide and 
 wasting volcano. The sudden formation of elastic matter in 
 the bowels of the earth — and it lies within the agency of 
 known substances to accomplish this — may explode it into 
 fragments. The exhalation of noxious air from below, may 
 impart a virulence to the air that is around us ; it may affect 
 the delicate proportion of its ingredients, and the whole of 
 animated nature may wither and die under the malignity of 
 a tainted atmosphere. A blazing comet may cross this fated 
 planet in its orbit, and realise all the terrors which super- 
 stition has conceived of it. We cannot anticipate with pre- 
 cision the consequences of an event which every astronomer 
 must know to lie within the limits of chance and probability. 
 It may hurry our globe towards the sun, or drag it to the 
 outer regions of the planetary system, or give it a new axis 
 of revolution ; and the effect, which I shall simply announce, 
 without explaining it, would be to change the place of the 
 ocean, and bring another mighty flood upon our islands and 
 continents. These are changes which may happen in a single 
 instant of time, and against which nothing known in the pre- 
 sent system of things provides us with any security. They 
 might not annihilate the earth, but they would unpeople it ; 
 and we who tread its surface with such firm and assured 
 footsteps, are at the mercy of devouring elements, which, if 
 let loose upon us by the hand of the Almighty, would spread 
 solitude, and silence, and death, over the dominions of the 
 world." 
 
 Another extract we cannot withhold, as applicable to 
 what immediately follows in the text : — 
 
 " About the time of the invention of the telescope, another 
 instrument was formed, which laid open a scene no less 
 wonderful, and rewarded the inquisitive spirit of man with 
 
NOTE R. 321 
 
 a discovery which serves to neutralise the whole of this 
 argument. This was the microscope. The one led me to 
 see a system in every star : the other leads me to see a 
 world in every atom. The one taught me that this mighty 
 globe, with the whole burden of its people and of its coun- 
 tries, is but a grain of sand on the high field of immensity : 
 the other teaches me that every grain of sand may harbour 
 within it the tribes and the families of a busy population. 
 The one told me of the insignificance of the world I tread 
 upon : the other redeems it from all its insignificance ; for 
 it tells me that in the leaves of every forest, and in the 
 flowers of every garden, and in the waters of every rivulet, 
 there are worlds teeming with life, and numberless as are 
 the glories of the firmament. The one has suggested to me 
 that, beyond and above all that is visible to man, there may 
 lie fields of creation which sweep immeasurably along, and 
 carry the impress of the Almighty's hand to the remotest 
 scenes of the universe : the other suggests to me, that within 
 and beneath all that minuteness which the aided eye of 
 man has been able to explore, there may lie a region of in- 
 visibles ; and that, could we draw aside the mysterious cur- 
 tain which shrouds it from our senses, we might there see a 
 theatre of as many wonders as astronomy has unfolded, a 
 universe within the compass of a point so small as to elude 
 all the powers of the microscope, but where the wonder- 
 working God finds room for the exercise of all His attributes, 
 where He can raise another mechanism of worlds, and fill 
 and animate them all with the evidences of His glory." 
 
 Note E, p. 120. 
 
 This is precisely a specimen of the idols of the tribe as 
 specified by Bacon. " The idols of the tribe have their 
 origin in human nature itself, and in the tribe or race oi 
 men. For it is falsely asserted that human sense is the 
 measure of things. Eather all perceptions, whether sensual 
 or mental, are according to the analogy of man, and not 
 
322 APPENDIX. 
 
 according to that of the universe. And the human intellect 
 is like an uneven mirror, which mixes up its own nature 
 with that of the objects which it reflects, and distorts and 
 modifies them." 
 
 In respect of certain matters, and these the highest and 
 most important, our knowledge must of necessity be but 
 relative. Have we any reason to expect that man should 
 know, or to suppose that he does know, more of the nature 
 and ways of God, than a well-trained and sagacious quad- 
 ruped knows of man, and of human affairs and politics ? This 
 is not flattering to human vanity; but is it not reasonable? 
 Is it not a necessary result of the infinite distance that there 
 is, and must be, between the Creator and the creature, the 
 infinite and the finite, especially between the holy and the 
 sinful! * 7 
 
 Note S, p. 149. 
 
 This is an important principle, which is perhaps not suf- 
 ficiently borne in mind. Even with respect to sensible ob- 
 jects, it is impossible to ascertain whether the impression 
 which the same object makes upon several minds be the 
 same, or even similar. There has been a good deal said 
 of late about " colour-blindness," and it has been ascertained 
 that a large proportion of men cannot distinguish certain 
 colours from certain others. A celebrated philosopher, for 
 example, could perceive no difference in colour between ripe 
 cherries and the leaves of the tree on which they grew. 
 Ordinary men perceive this difference, and agree in calling 
 a colour green which makes a certain impression on their 
 organs of vision, and another red which makes a different 
 impression. But we have no means whatever of ascertain- 
 ing whether the impression made by a green object on A's 
 organs, and the idea conveyed to his mind, be similar to that 
 made by the same object on B's organs, and the idea con- 
 veyed to his mind. In these simple cases we have no reason 
 to believe that it is otherwise ; but we can never ascertain 
 positively that it is so. But it is otherwise with respect to 
 
NOTE s. 323 
 
 more complex ideas, and those which are not originated by 
 objects of sense. There is no doubt, for example, that the 
 term virtue, or justice, or love, bears a very different mean- 
 ing as used by different men, and suggests very different 
 ideas to them when they hear it. On this subject the stu- 
 dent should ponder what Bacon says of the idols of the 
 forum : — 
 
 " But the idols of the forum are the most hurtful of all ; 
 they insinuate themselves into the mind by the conventional 
 use of words and terms. Men indeed believe that their 
 understanding regulates their choice of words ; but words 
 exercise a reflex influence on the mind itself, which has ren- 
 dered philosophy and the sciences sophistical and inactive. 
 Words are commonly adopted according to the capacity of 
 the vulgar, and define things by such lines of demarcation 
 as are most easily perceived by the unlearned. But when 
 a more acute understanding, or more diligent observation 
 wishes to alter these lines of demarcation and to render them 
 more in accordance with nature, words oppose the change. 
 Hence it happens that great and important arguments of 
 learned men often degenerate into controversies about words 
 and terms. It were wiser to begin with these, and, like the 
 mathematicians, to give such definitions as would take away 
 the ground of dispute. But even definitions in subjects not 
 mathematical, cannot wholly cure this evil, since the defini- 
 tions themselves consist of words, and words produce words; 
 so that it is necessary to have recourse to particular examples, 
 and their series and orders. Of this we shall speak presently 
 when we come to treat of the mode of forming notions and 
 axioms. 
 
 " The idols which words impose on the mind are of two 
 kinds ; first, the names of things which have no existence ; 
 for as there are objects which have no names, so there are 
 also names which have no corresponding objects ; or secondly, 
 the names of objects which do exist, but whose names are 
 confused and ill defined, and over-hastily abstracted from 
 the objects* Of the former kind are such terms as these : 
 fortune, the primum mobile, the orbits of the planets (suppos- 
 
324 APPENDIX. 
 
 ing these to be some material pathways) ; the element of fire, 
 and fictions of this kind which originate in vain and false 
 theories. This kind of idols is more easily dislodged, because 
 they can be rooted out by a persevering rejection of the 
 false theories in which they have originated. 
 
 " But the other class is more perplexing and difficult to be 
 eradicated ; because it proceeds from bad and unskilful ab- 
 straction. For example, let us take any term — moisture if 
 you please — and let us see what consistency there is between 
 the significations of this word. We shall find that this word 
 is nothing else than a confused indication of various proper- 
 ties which have no consistency with one another. For it 
 signifies either — that which spreads itself easily over another 
 body; or what has not determinate boundaries in itself (but 
 takes a shape according to the substance it is in contact 
 with) ; or what easily yields in every direction ; or what is 
 easily united or collected ; or what easily flows or is easily 
 put in motion ; or what easily adheres to another body and 
 moistens it, or what is easily liquified when formerly it was 
 solid. Now when we come to use this term, according to 
 some of the definitions flame is moist ; according to others, 
 air is not moist; according to others, fine dust is moist; ac- 
 cording to others, glass is moist. Hence it appears that the 
 notion of moisture is abstracted from water and common 
 liquids without any proper verification. 
 
 "In words also there are certain degrees of error and 
 hurtfulness. The class of words that produces least harm 
 is the names of substances, especially of the lowest species 
 (as, for example, our notion of chalk, clay, etc., which are 
 lowest species, is more distinct than that of earthy which 
 comprehends the other) : a class of words that produces more 
 harm is the names of actions, as generation, corruption, 
 change. The most hurtful are the names of qualities (ex- 
 cept the immediate objects of the senses), as heavy, light, rare, 
 dense, etc. And yet in all these classes some notions must 
 necessarily be somewhat better than others, according as 
 more or fewer instances fall within the range of our obser- 
 vation." 
 
NOTE T. 325 
 
 Note T, p. 160. 
 
 This is, perhaps, the conclusion of all our researches, 
 whether in science or theology, if we carry them sufficiently 
 far. We perceive various truths, but the nexus of these 
 truths lies beyond our cognisance. From the want of this 
 perception it is to be expected that various articles of our 
 creed should appear to be contradictory. For example, w r e 
 have every reason to believe in the general constancy of 
 nature, and we have ample reason to believe in the efficacy 
 of prayer. These seem, " to our feebleness," to be irrecon- 
 cileable propositions, yet we must admit them to be both true. 
 Even with respect to the fundamental doctrine of the Trinity, 
 the Bible clearly teaches us these propositions : that the 
 Father is God, that the Son is God, that the Holy Ghost is 
 God, that there is but one God. We know that these pro- 
 positions must be consistent with each other, and we con- 
 clude that the reconcilement w T ould be effected if we knew 
 more than w T e do respecting the mode of the Divine subsist- 
 ence ; that we should then know that there is a sense in 
 which the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost are diverse, 
 and another sense in which They are one. But it is, 
 perhaps, with respect to those doctrines which are considered 
 to be characteristic of Calvinism, that we come soonest and 
 most surely to this general result. On the question of the 
 doctrine of God's sovereignty there is no consistent resting- 
 place at any point between absolute predestination and 
 absolute atheism. But on the question of man's responsi- 
 bility there is just a little possibility of a consistent resting- 
 place at any point between perfect moral freedom on the 
 one hand, and the most detestable doctrines of heathenism 
 on the other, as that God is the author, the guilty author, 
 of all sin. We are, therefore, shut up to the acceptance of 
 the two doctrines of Divine predestination and human free- 
 dom, although we may not be able to reconcile them with 
 each other. 
 
 It is this inability to perceive the nexus between several 
 
326 APPENDIX. 
 
 truths that constitutes what Lord Bacon calls the subtilty of 
 nature. 
 
 " It is impossible that axioms established by argumenta- 
 tion can be of any value for the invention of new arts, be- 
 cause the subtilty of nature vastly exceeds the subtilty of 
 argumentation." A story told by Sir John Herschel ex- 
 cellently illustrates this statement : — 
 
 " The smelting of iron requires the application of the most 
 violent heat that can be raised, and is commonly performed 
 in tall furnaces, urged by great iron bellows driven by steam- 
 engines. Instead of employing this power to force air into 
 the furnace through the intervention of bellows, it was on 
 one occasion attempted to employ the steam itself in appa- 
 rently a much less circuitous manner, viz., by directing the 
 current of steam in a violent blast from the boiler at once 
 into the fire. From one of the known ingredients of steam 
 being a highly inflammable body, and the other that essen- 
 tial part of the air which supports combustion, it was 
 imagined that this would have the effect of increasing the 
 fire to tenfold fury, whereas it simply blew it out!" 
 
 About the separate propositions there was no error at all. 
 Air and water have one of their constituent elements common 
 to both. The other element of air is a gas that is not only 
 uninflammable, but is an immediate extinguisher of fire ; 
 whereas the other element of water is the most inflammable 
 of all known substances. Surely, then, there could be no 
 fault in the reasoning, that since air increases the combustion 
 in a furnace, much more will water do so. But the subtilty 
 of nature exceeds the subtilty of argumentation. 
 
 Note IT, p. 1 95. 
 
 We cannot accept of this half-defence of Pascal. To us 
 it seems that his argument is not only perfectly sound, but 
 essentially the same that regulates our conduct in all the 
 affairs of life. It involves the very consideration that our 
 Lord enforces when he says, " What is a man profited, if he 
 shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" 
 
NOTE u. 327 
 
 The argument is very well stated by Lord Byron in a 
 letter addressed to the late Mr Sheppard, of Frome, and 
 published by him in his " Thoughts on Private Devotion." 
 Amongst the papers of Mrs Sheppard were found, after her 
 death, a prayer for Byron, in whom she had been led to feel 
 much interest from her admiration of his genius. This paper 
 Mr Sheppard sent to Lord Byron, and his Lordship sent the 
 following reply, which, although it contains other matter 
 which we regard as unsound and dangerous, we shall not 
 alter or curtail. His statement of the Infinity-nothing argu- 
 ment is appropriate to the subject now before us. His re- 
 marks on the irresponsibility of man for his belief are not 
 inappropriate, as an illustration of the principle stated in last 
 note, that we shall fall into error unless we be prepared to 
 admit two doctrines that may appear to us to be inconsistent 
 and contradictory : — 
 
 "Pisa, December 8th, 1821. 
 " Sir, — I have received your letter. I need not say that 
 the extract which it contains has affected me, because it 
 would imply a want of all feeling to have read it with in- 
 difference. Though I am not quite sure that it was intended 
 by the writer for me, yet the date, the place where it was, 
 with some other circumstances which you mention, render 
 the allusion probable. But for whomever it was meant, I 
 have read it with all the pleasure which can arise from so 
 melancholy a topic. I say pleasure, because your brief and 
 simple picture of the life and demeanour of the excellent 
 person whom I trust you will again meet, cannot be con- 
 templated without the admiration due to her virtues, and 
 her pure and unpretending piety. Her last moments were 
 particularly striking ; and I do not know that in the course 
 of reading the story of mankind, and still less in my obser- 
 vations on the existing portion, I ever met with anything so 
 unostentatiously beautiful. Indisputably, the firm believers 
 in the Gospel have a great advantage over all others, for 
 this simple reason, that if true, they will have their reward 
 hereafter ; and if there be no hereafter, they can be but with 
 
328 APPENDIX. 
 
 the infidel in his eternal sleep, having had the assistance of 
 an exalted hope through life, without subsequent disappoint- 
 ment, since (at the worst for them) " out of nothing, nothing 
 can arise," not even sorrow. But a man's creed does not 
 depend upon himself. Who can say, I ivill believe this, that, 
 or the other ; and least of all that which he least can com- 
 prehend ? I have, however, observed that those who have 
 begun life with extreme faith, have in the end greatly nar- 
 rowed it, as Chillingworth, Clarke (who ended an Arian), 
 Bayle, and Gibbon (once a Catholic), and some others; while, 
 on the other hand, nothing is more common than for the 
 early sceptic to end in a firm belief, like Maupertuis and 
 Henry Kirke White. But my business is to acknowledge 
 your letter and not make a dissertation. I am obliged to you 
 for your good wishes, and more than obliged by the extract 
 from the papers of the beloved object whose qualities you 
 have so well described in a few words. I can assure you 
 that all the fame which ever cheated humanity into higher 
 notions of its own importance, w r ould never weigh in my 
 mind against the pure and pious interest which a virtuous 
 being may be pleased to take in my welfare. In this point 
 of view, I wxrnld not exchange the prayer of the deceased 
 in my behalf for the united glory of Homer, Ca3sar, and 
 Napoleon, could such be accumulated upon a living head. 
 Do me at least the justice to suppose that 
 
 ' Video meliora proboque,' 
 
 however the 'deteriora sequor' may have applied to my 
 conduct. — I have the honour to be, your obliged and obedient 
 servant, 
 
 "Bykon." 
 
 THE END. 
 
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