And when at times he exceeded his income, and his friends remonstrated with him on account of it, he would answer, "I have invariably found, that however poor a man is, he has something left when he dies." He was often reduced to the necessity of borrowing money at interest, to indulge himself in these charitable donations. And at one time, when there was a prospect of his income being increased, he proposed to borrow a large sum in advance, upon the strength of his expectations, that he might send it to the poor of Blois, whose distresses were then peculiarly severe. His views on the subject of charity towards the poor, are thus given by Madame Perier. "His regard for the poor had always been great; but it was so far increased towards the close of his life, that I could not please him better than by indulging it. For four years he continued to press upon me the duty of dedicating myself and my children to the service of the poor. And when I replied, That I feared this would interfere with the proper care of my family, he answered, That this was only the want of good-will, and that this virtue might be practised without any injury to domestic concerns.' He said that charity was generally the vocation of Christians, and that it needed no particular mark to indicate a call to it, for it was certain, that on that very ground, Christ would judge the world; and that when we consider that the mere omission of this duty will be the cause of the soul's eternal ruin, this one thought, if we have faith, should lead us willingly to suffer the privation of all things. He said also, that the habit of going among the poor, is extremely useful, because we acquire a practical conviction of the miseries under which they suffer; and we cannot see them wanting, in their extremity, the common necessaries and comforts of life, without being willing to part with our own luxurious superfluities. 'Such sentiments led us to adopt some general plan, according to which, the necessities of all might be supplied; but this he did not approve. He said, we were not called to act on general principles, but to meet particular cases; and he believed, that the most pleasing method of serving God, was in serving the poor out of our poverty; that each should relieve the poor around him, according to his several ability, without occupying his mind with those great designs, which aim at a fancied and probably unattainable excellence of operation, and leave the practicable good undone; and that instead of intermeddling with great enterprises which are reserved for but few, Christians generally were called to the daily assistance of the poor in the particular cases which occurred within the sphere of their own immediate influence."* One very interesting instance of Pascal's benevolence occurred about three months before his death. As he returned one day from the Church of St. Sulpice, he was accosted by a young person about fifteen years of age, and very beautiful, who asked charity. He felt the danger of her situation, and inquired into her circumstances; and having learned that she came from the country-that her father was dead, and that her mother being ill, had been that day brought to the Hotel Dieu for medical assistance; he regarded himself as sent of God to her relief, in the crisis of her necessity; and he took *This thought will recall to the attention, the lessons of a modern school of no little celebrity; and the peculiar, but important and convincing statements of one great mind, from which that school has originated. It is impossible to be well acquainted with the writings of Pascal and of Chalmers, and not to feel in more instances than one, the striking coincidence of thought between them her, without delay, to a seminary, where he placed her under the care of a pious clergyman, provided for her support, and, through the assistance of a female friend, settled her, at length, in a comfortable situation. Another instance of the extreme force of the principle of charity in his mind, occurred subsequently to this. He had been seized with such a degree of nausea, that his medical attendant had required him to abstain from all solid food; and he was, in consequence, reduced to great weakness. He had in his house at the time, a poor man, with his wife and family, for whose accommodation, he had given up one of his rooms. One of the children had fallen ill of the small-pox; and Pascal, who needed at the time, on account of his great debility, the attendance of his sister, was unwilling that she should come to him, from the risk of infection to her children. It became necessary, therefore, that he and his sick inmate should separate; but considering the probability of danger to the child, if he were removed, he preferred to submit to the inconvenience himself, and consequently, allowing the poor family to retain possession, he left his own house, never to return, and came to die at Madame Perier's. Whether this be viewed in the light of an act of tenderness to the poor, or of selfdenial for the comfort and the safety of his relatives, it is equally lovely, and worthy of regard and veneration. Three days after this circumstance, Pascal was visited by that attack of disease which removed him out of this present world. It began with violent internal pain; the severity of which, he endured with wonderful patience and composure. His medical attendants perceived, that his sufferings were very great; but finding his pulse good, and no appearance of fever, they ventured to assure his friends, that there was not the least shadow of danger. Pascal however felt that owing to the severity of his sufferings, and the exhaustion of constant sleeplessness, he was becoming much enfeebled, and on the fourth day of his illness, sent for the curate of the parish, and confessed. The report of this spread rapidly among his friends; and they gathered round him, overwhelmed with apprehension. The medical men were so surprised by this, that they said, it was an indication of fear on his part, which they did not anticipate from him; and, notwithstanding his suspicions, they persisted in maintaining a favorable opinion of his case. In the mean time, however, he became much more emaciated; and believing, in opposition to all their representations, that he was really in danger, he communicated freely and repeatedly with the curate, on the subject of his religious hope. At this time also he made his will, on which occasion he stated, that if M. Perier had been at Paris, and would have consented, he would have given all his property to the poor. He said to Madame Perier, "How is it that I have done nothing for the poor, though I have always loved them?" To which she replied, "Your means have not been such as to enable you to do much for them." "But," said he, "if I could not give them money, I might, at least, have given my time and my labor. Here Í have come short indeed! And if the physicians are right, and God permits me to recover, I am determined to have no other employment all the rest of my life." There are multitudes of persons gifted with both wealth and leisure, who know nothing whatever of the wants and miseries of the poor, and of those scenes of distress and death which occur around them, and which, a little attention on their part, might materially alleviate. To float upon the stream of pleasure-to indulge a luxurious and sel than that 300 years after the reformation, four mil- tionate reliance upon the blessing of a Divine power, lions of its subjects, at our very doors, should be in which makes a man regardless of consequences, as a state of the most melancholy ignorance of the first long as he does his duty-these were the qualities principles of the pure word of God, worshipping which fitted him, in an especial manner, to be the idols, doing meritorious penances, wearing charms champion of scriptural truth, in the fallen church and consecrated amulets, trusting purchased indul- of the Papacy. Had he been gifted with health gences, vowing allegiance to a foreign potentate, as and strength, he was the man, of all others, adapted the representative of their God, and denouncing to accomplish a general return to the Christian certain perdition on all those who are not partakers principles from which that church had strayed; and of their folly. When will the spirit of our fathers if views, simple and scriptural as his, had spread come upon us again? Where is the mantle of our and become popular-if the bad parts of the Romish Elijahs of former days? When will a truly Pro- system had, with others, as with him, fallen into testant heart return again to the British people? dissuetude and contempt; and its ministers, instead When will the day come, in which we shall be pre- of being the fawning supporters of an unchristian pared, as a people, in the simplicity of a scriptural tyranny over the consciences of men and the scep faith, to leave the message of mercy unfettered by tres of the earth, had become like him, the faithful the safeguards of human prudence, to win its own advocates of the leading features of scriptural truth triumphant way to the hearts of men? When will such a change would have gone far to satisfy the the churches of this favored land, rise, as with one Christian world. There can be no wish, on the consent, against the vile and debasing superstitions part of the universal church of Christ, to unchurch which the influence of Rome still pours as a poison- the Church of Rome, or needlessly to interfere with ous deluge over so fair a portion of the British do- any of its views or non-essential points, which are minions; when they shall go forth, not to increase harmless in their nature, and are, in fact, ground or to perpetuate the political rigors of former days on which charity requires all to be neutral; and nor to punish, by the privation of civil rights, the though, upon some points, that church might still errors of an uninformed and misguided conscience; be regarded by some as too superstitious, yet had but to visit these sad victims of priestcraft and de- she openly and honestly maintained and preached lusion, with the kindly offices of mercy and love, to the doctrine of her Pascals, and Arnaulds, and remonstrate affectionately, to reason calmly, to open Quesnels, and Fenelons, the leading features of and explain the Scriptures, to preach in their high-quarrel with her on the part of the Protestant ways and hedges the unsearchable riches of the churches, would have almost ceased to exist. gospel of Christ, and to triumph as the Head and High-priest of our profession triumphed, by turning them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan unto God. But it is not so. These men must now be looked on only as extraordinary exceptions, from the dominant evils of that community. They are not specimens of the brilliant attainments in knowledge and Pascal was a very striking instance of the superi- piety of the disciples of the Papacy. They are anoority of a great mind, enlightened by the reading of malies to the universality of error. They are only Scripture, to the errors and superstitions of his age a few scattered lights, that have been permitted ocand country. Though he was a layman, yet to him, casionally to shine out amidst the surrounding as a man of learning, those Scriptures were open, gloom-to make the palpable thickness of the darkfrom which the common people are, by authority, ness that covers the multitude more visible. They excluded; and the promised blessing of God attend- are only proofs of what the Romish clergy should ed the obedient study of His word. The progress have been, and might have been, even while they of his mind was rapid, in the perception of religious remained conscientiously in communion with that truth, and in the discrimination of it from the essen-church. But they stand forth as a swift witness tial and destructive errors with which it had been mixed up, in the avowed doctrinal sentiments of the Romish Church. His views were clear, perspicuous, and liberal; and, at the same time, he main tained a chastened, child-like, and humble spirit. But there was in him that inflexible rectitude of mind, by which he saw almost intuitively, the prominent and essential features of truth; and grasp ing these with gigantic firmness, he was prepared, in the seraphic strength which they imparted, to combat for them against the world. Of course, the accuracy and keenness with which he detected error was equally remarkable, and only equalled by With the death of Pascal, and the banishment of the honesty with which he went forth against it. his friends, all rational hope of the reformation of He knew his own principles too well to be incon- the French church ceased. "Darkness covered the sistent. He knew the power and the promises of people-gross darkness that might be felt." And God too well, to be any other than undaunted. He from that day to this, successive woes have fallen, was prepared equally to defend Divine truth against in almost unmingled bitterness, on that irreligious infidelity or superstition, or against that worst, and and careless people. What further evils may yet most frequent of all opponents in the Romish assail them, time will unfold; but even now, inChurch, against him who upholds for sinister pur-creasing darkness gathers round. The sad lessons poses, the superstitious practices which, in the secret of his heart, he holds in contempt. To this unbending rectitude of spirit, Pascal united talents peculiarly adapted to make him a powerful and efficient controversialist. The readiness which brings all his powers up at the moment of necessity; the perspicuity which facilitates the communication of ideas, and the playful wit which adorns them; the habitual humility which is the best safeguard against betraying himself by the indulgence of any evil passion, and the simple, affec against the errors, that have almost universally been sanctioned and encouraged by its authorities; and perhaps, no condemnation more fearful will issue in the last day against the antichristian errors of Rome, than that which marks, with Divine approbation, the solemn protestation of Pascal and his friends, and recognizes the melancholy fact, that sound scriptural truth was hunted down and persecuted, and condemned in their persons, and the true religion of the Saviour once more sacrificed in them to the worldly policy and intrigue, to the pride and passion of the Jesuits. of experienced suffering, are already thrown aside; and darker superstition frowns, while she forges for them new and heavier chains. In the prospect of the gloom that lowers upon that melancholy country, and in the belief that the torch of truth in the hand of the Jansenists, and of their great champion, might have dispelled it, the friends of true religion may well take up the friendly lamentation which mourned over the tomb of Pascal, the loss sustained by his country in his untimely fall, and say, Hen! Heu! Cecidit Pascalis. Pascal was buried at Paris, in the parish church of St. Etienne du Mont, behind the main altar, near to, and directly before the pillar on the left hand, entering the Chapel of the Virgin. A Latin epitaph, remarkably quaint and original in its style, written by Aimonius Proust de Chambourg, Professor of Law in the University of Orleans, was laid over the grave; but as lay in a very frequented part of the church, it was speedily effaced; and a second inscription, engraved on a marble tablet, was affixed to the pillar immediately adjoining. This second inscription, owing to some repairs in the church, was afterwards removed, and placed over the side door at the right side of the church. During the revolution, it was carried away to the Museum of French Monuments; but on the 21st of April, 1818, it was restored to its original pillar, in the presence of the Prefect of the department of the Seine, a deputation of the academy, and many relations of the deceased. Nobilissimi Scutarii Blasii Pascalis Tumulus. D. O. M. Hunc Philosophi quærunt Sapientem, Hunc Doctores laudant Theologum, Hunc Pii venerantur austerum. Hunc omnes mirantur, omnibus ignotum, Omnibus licet notum. Quid plura? Viator, quem perdidimus IS LUDOVICUS erat MONTALTIUS. Satis dixi, urgent lachrymæ, Ei qui bene precaberis, bene tibi eveniat, Vixit. An. 39. m. 2. Obiit an. rep. Sal. 1662. 14 Kal. Sept. ΩΛΕΤΟ ΠΑΣΚΑΛΙΟΣ. Heu! Heu! qualis luctus! Posuit A. P. D. C. mærens Aurelian. Canonista. Pro columna superiori, Sub tumulo marmoreo, BLASIUS PASCALIS SCUTARIUS NOBILIS Jacet BLASIUS PASCAL, Claromontanus, Stephani HIC JACET. Pietas si non moritur, æternum vivet; Vir conjugii nescius, Religione sanctus, Virtute clarus, Sanguine et animo pariter illustris; Christianæ Moralis Corruptorum acerrimus hostis. Pascal in Suprema apud Arvernos Subsidiorum Curia Præsidis filius, post aliquot annos in severiori secessu et divinæ legis meditatione transactos, feliciter et religiose in pace Christi, vita functus anno 1662, ætatis 39, die 19 Augusti. Optasset ille quidem præ paupertatis et humilitatis studio, etiam his sepulchri honoribus carere, mortuusque etiamnum latere, qui vivus semper latere voluerat. Verum ejus hac in parte votis cum cedere non posset Florinus Perier in eadem suosídiorum Curia Consiliarius, ac Gilberta Pascal, Blasii Pascal sororis, conjux amantissimus, hanc tabulam posuit, qua et suam in illum pietatem significaret, et Christianos ad Christiana precum officia sibi et defuncto profu tura cohortaretur. THOUGHTS ON RELIGION. CHAPTER I. ON SELF-KNOWLEDGE. WHEN man considers himself, the first thing that claims his notice is his body; that is a certain portion of matter evidently appertaining to himself. But if he would know what this is, he must compare himself with all that is superior or inferior to him; and thus he will ascertain his own just limits. But he must not rest contented with the examination of the things around him. Let him contemplate universal nature in all the height and fulness of its majesty. Let him consider that glorious luminary, hung as an eternal lamp, to enlighten the universe. Let him consider that this earth is a mere point, compared with the vast circuit which that bright orb describes. Let him learn with wonder, that this wide orbit itself is but a speck compared with the course of the stars, which roll in the firmament of heaven. And if here our sight is limited, let the imagination take up the inquiry and venture further. It will weary with conceiving, far sooner than nature in supplying food for thought. All that we see of the universe is but an almost imperceptible spot on the ample bosom of nature. No conception even approaches the limits of its space. Let us labor as we will with our conceptions, we bring forth mere atoms, compared with the immensity of that which really is. It is an infinite sphere, whose centre is every where, and whose circumference is no where. And, in fact, one of the most powerful sensible impressions of the omnipotence of God is, that our imagination is lost in this thought. Then let man return to himself, and consider what he is, compared with all else that is. Let him consider himself as a wanderer in this remote corner of nature; and then from what he sees of this narrow prison in which he lies-this visible world; let him learn to estimate rightly the earth, its kingdoms, its cities, himself, and his own real value. What is man in this infinity? Who can comprehend him? who would not wonder to think that this body, which so lately was not perceptible in that universe, which universe was itself an imperceptible spot on the bosom of infinity, should now appear a colossus, a world, a universe, compared with that ultimate atom of minuteness to which we cannot arrive. He who thus thinks of himself, will doubtless be alarmed to see himself, as it were, suspended in the mass of matter that is allotted to him, between these two abysses of infinity and nothingness, and equally remote from both. He will tremble at the percep tion of these wonders; and I would think, that his curiosity changing into reverence, he would be more disposed to contemplate them in silence, than to scrutinize them with presumption. For what after all is man, in nature? A nothing compared with infinity-a universe compared with nothinga mean between all and nothing. He is infinitely distant from both extremes. His being is not less remote from the nothing out of which he was formed, than from the infinity in which he is lost. His mind holds the same rank in the order of intelligent beings, as his body in material nature; and all that it can do, is to discern somewhat of the middle of things, in an endless despair of ever knowing their beginning or their end. All things are called out of nothing, and carried onward to infinity. Who can follow in this endless race? The Author of these wonders comprehends them. No other can. This state which occupies the mean between two extremes, shows itself in all our powers. Our senses will not admit any thing extreme. Too much noise confuses us, too much light daz zles, too great distance or nearness prevents vision, too great prolixity or brevity weakens an argument, too much pleasure gives pain, too much accordance annoys. We relish neither extreme heat, nor extreme cold. All excessive qualities are injurious to us, and not perceptible. We do not feel them, we suffer them. Extreme youth and extreme age alike enfeeble the mind; too much or too little nourishment weakens its operation; by too much or too little instruction it becomes stupid. Extreme things are not ours, any more than if they were not; we are not made for them. Either they escape us, or we them. thing can stay its course. But to show him another prodigy equally astonishing, let him search among the minutest objects round him. Let a mite, for instance, exhibit to him, in the exceeding smallness of its frame, portions yet incomparably smaller; limbs well articulated; This is our real condition. It is this which conveins in those limbs; blood in those veins; humors fines our knowledge within certain limits that we in that blood; globules in that humor; and gases cannot pass, being equally incapable of universal in those globules;-and then dividing again their knowledge, or of total ignorance; we are placed in smallest objects, let him exhaust the powers of his a vast medium; ever floating uncertainly between conception, and then let the lowest particle that he ignorance and knowledge; if we attempt to go farcan imagine become the subject of our discourse. ther forward, our object wavers and eludes our grasp He thinks, perhaps, that this is the minutest atomit retires and flies with an eternal flight, and noof nature, but I will open to him, within it, a new and fathomless abyss. I can exhibit to him yet, not only the visible universe, but even all that he is capable of conceiving of the immensity of nature, embosomed in this imperceptible atom. Let him see there an infinity of worlds, each of which has its firmament, its planets, its earth; bearing the same proportion to the other parts as in the visible world: and in this earth, animals, and even mites again, in which he shall trace the same discoveries which the first mites yielded; and then again the same in others without end and without repose. He is lost in these wonders, equally astonishing in their minuteness, as the former by their extent. And The Copernican system was not then generally received by the members of the Romish church. 520 This is our natural condition; yet it is ever opposed to our inclination. We burn with desire to sound the utmost depth, and to raise a fabric that shall reach infinity. But all we build up crumbles, and the earth opens in a fathomless abyss beneath our deepest foundation. 2. I can readily conceive of a man without hands or feet; and I could conceive of him without a head, if experience had not taught me that by this he and thinks. Thought then is the essence of inan, without this we cannot conceive of him. What is it in us which feels pleasure? Is it the hand? the arm? the flesh? the blood? It must be something immaterial. 3. Man is so great, that his greatness appears even in the consciousness of his misery. A tree does not know itself to be miserable. It is true that | henceforth it may not blind him in making his it is misery indeed to know one's self to be misera- choice, nor impede his progress when he has chosen. ble; but then it is greatness also. In this way, all 9. I blame with equal severity those who elevate man's miseries go to prove his greatness. They man, those who depress him, and those who think are the miseries of a mighty potentate-of a de- it right merely to divert him. I can only approve throned monarch. of those who seek in tears for happiness. 4. What man is unhappy because he is not a king, except a king dethroned. Was Paulus Emilius considered miserable that he was no longer consul. On the contrary every one thought that he was happy in having it over, for it was not his condition to be always consul. But Perseus, whose permanent state should have been royalty, was considered to be so wretched in being no longer a king, that men wondered how he could endure life. Who complains of having only one mouth? Who would not complain of having but one eye? No man mourns that he has not three eyes; yet each would sorrow deeply if he had but one. 5. We have so exalted a notion of the human soul, that we cannot bear to be despised by it, or even not to be esteemed by it. Man, in fact, places all his happiness in this esteem. If on the one hand this false glory that men seek after is a mark of their misery and degradation, it is on the other a proof of their excellence. For whatever possessions a man has on the earth, and whatever health or comfort he enjoys, he is not satisfied without the esteem of his fellow-men. He rates so highly the human mind, that whatever be his worldly advantages, if he does not stand, as well also in man's estimation, he counts himself wretched. That position is the loveliest spot in the world. Nothing can eradicate the desire for it. And this quality is the most indelible in the human heart; so that even those who most thoroughly despise men, and consider them equal with the brutes, still wish to be admired by them; their feelings contradict their principles. Their nature which is stronger than their reasonings, convinces them more forcibly of the greatness of man, than their reason can do of his vileness. 6. Man is but a reed; and the weakest in nature; but then he is a reed that thinks. It does not need the universe to crush him: a breath of air, a drop, of water will kill him. But even if the material universe should overwhelm him, man would be more noble than that which destroys him; because he knows that he dies, while the universe knows nothing of the advantage which it obtains over him. Our true dignity then, consists in thought. From thence we must derive our elevation, not from space or duration. Let us endeavor then to think well; this is the principle of morals. 7. It is dangerous to show man unreservedly how nearly he resembles the brute creation, without pointing out, at the same time, his greatness. It is dangerous also to exhibit his greatness exclusively, without his degradation. It is yet more dangerous to leave him ignorant of both, but it is highly profitable to teach him both together. 8. Let man then rightly estimate himself-let him love himself, for he has a nature capable of good; but yet let him not love the evils that he finds there. Let him despise himself, because this capacity is without an object; but let him not on that account despise the natural capacity itself. Let him both love and hate himself. There is in him the power of discerning truth, and of being happy, but he is not in possession of certain and satisfying truth. I would lead man to desire to find truth, to sit loose to his passions, and to be ready to follow truth wherever he may find it and knowing how sadly his powers of comprehension are clouded by his passions, I would wish him to hate in himself that concupiscence which overrules his judgment, that The stoics say, Turn in upon yourselves, and there you will find your repose. This however is not true. Others say, Go forth from yourselves, and seek for happiness in diversion. This is not true either. Disease will come. Alas! happiness is neither within us, nor without us. It is in the union of ourselves with God. 10. There are two ways of regarding human nature, one according to the end of man, and then it is grand and incomprehensible; the other according to his habits, as we judge of the nature of a horse or a dog, by the habit of observing his going, and then man is abject and vile. It is owing to these two different ways that philosophers judge so differently, and dispute so keenly; for one denies what the other assumes. One says, man is not born for this noble end; for all his actions are opposed to it. The other says, when he commits such base and grovelling actions, he wanders from the end of his being. Instinct and experience, taken together, show to man the whole of what he is. 11. I feel that I might not have been; for when I speak of myself, I mean my thinking being; and L who think, would not have been, if my mother had been killed before I was quickened. Then I am not a necessary being, nor am I eternal, nor infinite; but I see clearly that there is in nature, a be ing who is necessary, eternal, infinite. CHAPTER II. THE VANITY OF MAN. We are not satisfied with the life that we have in ourselves-in our own peculiar being. We wish to live also an ideal life in the mind of others; an for this purpose, we constrain ourselves to put on appearances. We labor incessantly to adorn and sustain this ideal being, while we neglect the real one. And if we possess any degree of equanimity, generosity, or fidelity, we strive to make it known, that we may clothe with these virtues that being of the imagination. Nay, we would even cast off these virtues in reality, to secure them in the opinion of others; and willingly be cowards, to acquire the reputation of courage. What a proof of the emp tiness of our real being, that we are not satisfied with the one without the other, and that we often sacrifice the one to the other; for he is counted infamous who would not die to save his reputation. Glory is so enchanting, that we love whatever we associate it with, even though it be death. 2. Pride countervails all our miseries, for it ei ther hides them, or if it discloses them, it boasts of acknowledging them. Pride has so thoroughly got possession of us, even in the midst of our miseries and our faults, that we are prepared to sacrifice life with joy, if it may but be talked of. 3. Vanity is so rooted in the heart of man, that the lowest drudge of the camp, the street, or the kitchen, must have his boast and his admirers. It is the same with the philosophers. Those who write to gain fame, would have the reputation of having written well; and those who read it, would have the reputation of having read it; and I who am writing this, feel probably the same wish, and they who read this, feel it also. 4. Notwithstanding the sight of all those miseries which wring us, and threaten our destruction, we have still an instinct that we cannot repress, which elevates us above our sorrows. 5. We are so presumptuous that we wish to be |