So far, this principle has been adhered to by subsequent editors. There has been no further tampering with Pascal’s words, but more or less latitude has been taken in publishing all the manuscript details, and especially in the arrangement of the several fragments. Faugère fancied that he could trace in Pascal’s own notes the indication of an interior arrangement, into which the several parts of his proposed work in defence of religion were intended to fall; and he has grouped the fragments in his second volume according to these supposed indications. M. Havet does not think that it is possible any longer to discover the true order of the fragments. He does not believe that any such order existed in the author’s own mind. He had a general design, and certain great divisions; a preface was sketched
here, and a chapter there; but in throwing his thoughts upon paper as they presented themselves to him, he did not stop to assort them, or to bring them into any fitting connection. What Pascal himself did not do, M. Havet does not think it possible any editor can do. Accordingly, he recurs to the old, if somewhat arbitrary, arrangement of Bossut, as the most familiar and useful. M. Rochet follows an elaborate arrangement, professedly founded on the original plan of Pascal, as sketched by himself in the conversation reported by his nephew in the preface to the primary edition of the fragments. He considers that all the Thoughts find their natural place in this plan and in no other. But M. Rochet’s classifications are, partly at least, inspired by his own ecclesiastical tendencies; and he is far from just to the labours of M. Faugère, and the real light and order which these labours introduced into the development of Pascal’s ideas.
It is unnecessary for us to attempt to hold the balance between Pascal’s several editors, or to say which of them has most justice on his side. Of two things there can be no doubt: first, that any special arrangement of the ‘Pensées,’ so as to give the idea of a connected book in defence of religion, is, so far, arbitrary—the work, that is to say, of the editor rather than of the author; and secondly, that there is no difficulty, from the original preface and otherwise, of gathering the general order of Pascal’s ideas, and the method which appeared to him the true one of meeting the irreligion of his day, and vindicating the divine truth of Christianity—points which shall afterwards come before us.
The special question raised by M. Cousin as to
Pascal’s scepticism will also be best discussed in its true order, in connection with such passages as have suggested it. Considering Pascal’s traditionary reputation as the defender of religion, there was a character of surprise in this question, that forced a lively debate, as soon as it was raised, in France and Germany, and even England. Vinet and Neander both joined in it; and the two lectures delivered by the latter before the Royal Academy of Sciences in Berlin in 1847, are highly deserving of perusal by all students of philosophy. [164] But the issue is an absurd one, before the combatants are agreed as to the meaning of the word Scepticism, and before the reader has before him the views of Pascal, and the manner in which he defines his own attitude in relation to what he considered the two great lines of thought opposed to Christianity. When we are in possession of his own statements, we may find that much of the indignant rhetoric of M. Cousin is beside the question, and that, although Pascal was certainly no Cartesian, and has used some strong and rash expressions about the weakness of human reason, neither is he a sceptic in any usual sense. He has, in fact, defined his own position with singular clearness and force.
But before turning to his views on these higher subjects, it will be well to present our readers with some of Pascal’s more miscellaneous and general Thoughts. In doing so, it is not necessary, in such a volume as this, that we indicate throughout the edition from which we take our quotations. We shall quote from the editions of
Faugère or Havet, as may be most convenient, and take them in such order as suits our own purpose of exhibiting Pascal’s mind as clearly as we can. For the same reason, we shall give such passages as appear to us not always the most just or accurate in thought, but the most characteristic or representative of the veritable Pascal, whose true words were so long concealed from the world. We cannot do better, in the first instance, than note what so great a mathematician has to say of geometry and the “mathematical mind,” compared with the naturally acute mind (“l’esprit de finesse”), betwixt which he draws an interesting parallel. The fragment on the “Mathematical” or “Geometric Mind” was, with the exception of a brief passage given by Des Molets [165] in 1728, originally published, although with numerous suppressions, in Condorcet’s edition of the ‘Pensées.’ It appeared for the first time in its complete form, and under its proper title, in Faugère’s edition, along with its natural pendant, the closely-allied fragment, entitled “L’Art de Persuader.” We give a few passages from the first fragment:—
“We may have three principal objects in the study of truth—one to discover it when we seek it, another to demonstrate it when we possess it, and a third and last to discriminate it from the false when we examine it. . . . Geometry excels in all three, and especially in the art of discovering unknown truths, which it calls analysis. . . There is a method which excels geometry, but is impossible to man, for whatever transcends geometry transcends us [in natural science, as he explains elsewhere]. This is the method of defining everything and proving everything. . . A fine method, but impossible; since it is evident that the first terms that we wish to define, suppose precedent terms necessary for their explanation—and that the first propositions that we wish to prove, suppose others which precede them; and so it is clear we can never arrive at absolutely first principles. In pushing our researches to the utmost, we necessarily reach primitive words that admit of no further definition, and principles so obvious, that they require no proof. Man can never, therefore, from natural incompetency, possess an absolutely complete science. . . . But geometry, while inferior in its aims, is absolutely certain within its limits. It neither defines everything, nor attempts to prove everything, and must, so far, yield its pretension to be an absolute science; but it sets out from things universally admitted as clear and constant, and is therefore perfectly true, because in consonance with nature. Its function is not to define things universally clear and understood, but to define all others; and not to attempt to prove things intuitively known to men, but to attempt to prove all others. Against this, the true order of knowledge, those alike err who attempt to define and to prove everything, and those who neglect definition and demonstration where things are not self-evident. This is what geometry teaches perfectly. It attempts no definition of such things as space, time, motion, number, equality, and the like, because these terms designate so naturally the things which they signify, that any attempt at making them more clear ends in making them more obscure. For there is nothing more futile than the talk of those who would define primitive words. [166]
. . . . . . . .
“In geometry the principles are palpable, but removed from common use. . . . In the sphere of natural wit or acuteness, the principles are in common use and before all eyes—it is only a question of having a good view of them; for they are so subtle and numerous, that some are almost sure to escape observation. . . . All geometers would be men of acuteness if they had sufficient insight, for they never reason falsely on the principles recognised by them. All fine or acute spirits would be geometers if they could fix their thoughts on the unwonted principles of geometry. The reason why some finer spirits are not geometers is, that they cannot turn their attention at all to the principles of geometry; but geometers fail in finer perception, because they do not see all that is before them, and being accustomed to the plain and palpable principles of geometry, and never reasoning until they have well ascertained and handled their principles, they lose themselves in matters of intellectual subtlety, where the principles are not so easily laid hold of. Such things are seen with difficulty; they are felt rather than seen. They are so delicate and multitudinous that it requires a very delicate and neat sense to appreciate them. . . . So it is as rare for geometers to be men of subtle wit as it is for the latter to be geometers, because geometers like to treat these nicer matters geometrically, and so make themselves ridiculous; they like to commence with definition, and then go on to principles—a mode which does not at all suit this sort of reasoning. It is not that the mind does not take this method, but it does so silently, naturally, and without conscious art. The perception of the process belongs only to a few minds, and those of the highest order. . . . Geometers, who are only geometers, are sure to be right, provided the subject come within their scope, and is capable of explanation by definition and principles. Otherwise they go wrong altogether, for they only judge rightly upon principles clearly set forth and established. On the other hand, subtle men, who are only subtle, lack patience, in matters of speculation and imagination, to reach first principles which they have never known in the world, and which are entirely beyond their beat. . . .
“There are different kinds of sound sense. Some succeed in one order of things, and not in another, in which they are simply extravagant. . . . Some minds draw consequences well from a few principles, others are more at home in drawing conclusions from a great variety of principles. For example, some understand well the phenomena of water, with reference to which the principles are few, but the results extremely delicate, so that only very great accuracy of mind can trace them. Such men would probably not be great geometers, because geometry involves a multitude of principles, and because the mind which may penetrate thoroughly a few principles to their depth may not be at all able to penetrate things which combine a multitude of principles. . . . There are two sorts of mind: the one fathoms rapidly and deeply the consequences of principles—this is the observant and accurate mind; the other embraces a great multitude of principles, without confounding them—and this is the mathematical mind. The one is marked by energy and accuracy, the other by amplitude. But the one may exist without the other. The mind may be powerful and narrow, or it may be ample and weak.” [168]
Few of Pascal’s Thoughts are more interesting than those on “Eloquence and Style.” So great a master of the art of expression had naturally something to say on these subjects.
“Continued eloquence wearies. Princes and kings amuse themselves sometimes; they are not always upon their thrones—they tire of these. Grandeur must be laid aside in order to be realised.
“Eloquence is a picture of thought; and thus those who, after having drawn a picture, still go on, make a tableau and not a likeness.
“Eloquence is the art of saying things in such a manner—first, that those to whom they are addressed can understand them without trouble and with pleasure; and secondly, that they may be interested in them in such a way that their amour propre may lead them gladly to reflect upon them. It consists, therefore, in a correspondence established between the mind and heart of the hearers on the one side, and the thoughts and expressions used on the other, and so implies a close study of the human heart in order to know all its springs, and to find the due measures of speech to address to it. It must confine itself, as far as possible, to the simplicity of nature, and not make great what is small, nor small what is great. It is not enough that a thing be fine, it must be fitting,—neither in excess nor defect.”
“Eloquence should prevail by gentle suasion, not by constraint. It should reign, not tyrannise.
“There are some who speak well, and who do not write well. The place—the assembly—excites them, and draws forth their mind more than they ever experience without such excitement.”
“Those who make antitheses by forcing the sense are like men who make false windows for the sake of symmetry. Their rule is not to speak correctly, but to make correct figures.”
“There should be in eloquence always what is true and real; but that which is pleasing should itself be the real.”
“When we meet with the natural style we are surprised and delighted, for we expected to find an author, and we find a man; whilst those of good taste who in looking into a book think to find a man, are altogether surprised to find an author. Plus poetice quam humane locutus es. They honour nature most who teach her that she can speak best on all subjects—even on theology.”
“There are men who always dress up nature. No mere king with them, but an august monarch. No Paris, but the capital of the kingdom. There are places in which it is necessary to call Paris Paris; others, where we must call it the capital of the kingdom.”
“When in composition we find a word repeated, and on trying to correct it find it so suitable that a change would spoil the sense, it is better to let it alone. This stamps it as fitting, and it is a stupid feeling which does not recognise that repetition in such a case is not a fault; for there is no universal rule.
“The meaning itself changes with the words which express it. The meaning derives its dignity from the words, instead of imparting it to them.”
“The last thing that we discover in writing a book is to know what to put at the beginning.
“When a discourse paints a passion or effect naturally, we find in ourselves the truth of what we hear, which was there without our knowing it, so that we are led to like the man who discovers so much to us. For he does not show us his own good, but ours; and this good turn makes him lovable. Besides that, the community of intelligence we have with him necessarily inclines the heart towards him.
“Let none allege that I have said nothing new. The arrangement of the matter is new. When we play at tennis, both play with the same ball; but one plays better than the other. They might as well accuse me of using old words, as if the same thoughts differently arranged would not form a different discourse; just as the same words differently arranged express different thoughts.
“There is a definite standard of taste and beauty, which consists in a certain relation between our nature—it may be weak or strong, but such as it is—and the thing that pleases us. All that is formed to this standard delights us,—house, song, writing, verse, prose, women, buds, rivers, trees, rooms, dress, etc. All that is not formed by this standard disgusts men of good taste.
“I never judge of the same thing exactly in the same manner. I cannot judge of my work in the course of doing it. I must do as painters do, place myself at a distance from it, but not too far. How then? You may guess.”