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Blaise Pascal The Provincial Letters The translation is that
of Rev. Dr. Thomas M’Crie D.D., Professor of Divinity, Edinburgh and was published
in New York by Robert Carter & Brothers, 1853. [Return
to book contents page] Letter VIII
Paris, May
28, 1656 SIR, You did not suppose that
anybody would have the curiosity to know who we were; but it seems there are
people who are trying to make it out, though they are not very happy in their
conjectures. Some take me for a doctor of the Sorbonne; others ascribe my
letters to four or five persons, who, like me, are neither priests nor
Churchmen. All these false surmises convince me that I have succeeded pretty
well in my object, which was to conceal myself from all but yourself and the
worthy monk, who still continues to bear with my visits, while I still
contrive, though with considerable difficulty, to bear with his
conversations. I am obliged, however, to restrain myself; for, were he to
discover how much I am shocked at his communications, he would discontinue
them and thus put it out of my power to fulfil the promise I gave you, of
making you acquainted with their morality. You ought to think a great deal of
the violence which I thus do to my own feelings. It is no easy matter, I can
assure you, to stand still and see the whole system of Christian ethics
undermined by such a set of monstrous principles, without daring to put in a
word of flat contradiction against them. But, after having borne so much for
your satisfaction, I am resolved I shall burst out for my own satisfaction in
the end, when his stock of information has been exhausted. Meanwhile, I shall
repress my feelings as much as I possibly can for I find that the more I hold
my tongue, he is the more communicative. The last time I saw him, he told me
so many things that I shall have some difficulty in repeating them all. On
the point of restitution you will find they have some most convenient
principles. For, however the good monk palliates his maxims, those which I am
about to lay before you really go to sanction corrupt judges, usurers,
bankrupts, thieves, prostitutes and sorcerers—all of whom are most liberally
absolved from the obligation of restoring their ill-gotten gains. It was thus
the monk resumed the conversation: “At the commencement of our
interviews, I engaged to explain to you the maxims of our authors for all
ranks and classes; and you have already seen those that relate to
beneficiaries, to priests, to monks, to domestics, and to gentlemen. Let us
now take a cursory glance at the remaining, and begin with the judges. “Now I am going to tell you
one of the most important and advantageous maxims which our fathers have laid
down in their favour. Its author is the learned Castro Palao, one of our
four-and-twenty elders. His words are: ‘May a judge, in a question of right
and wrong, pronounce according to a probable opinion, in preference to the
more probable opinion? He may, even though it should be contrary to his own
judgement—imo contra propriam opinionem.’” “Well, father,” cried I, “that
is a very fair commencement! The judges, surely, are greatly obliged to you;
and I am surprised that they should be so hostile, as we have sometimes
observed, to your probabilities, seeing these are so favourable to them. For
it would appear from this that you give them the same power over men’s
fortunes as you have given to yourselves over their consciences.” “You perceive we are far from
being actuated by self-interest,” returned he; “we have had no other end in
view than the repose of their consciences; and to the same useful purpose has
our great Molina devoted his attention, in regard to the presents which may
be made them. To remove any scruples which they might entertain in accepting
of these on certain occasions, he has been at the pains to draw out a list of
all those cases in which bribes may be taken with a good conscience,
provided, at least, there be no special law forbidding them. He says: ‘Judges
may receive presents from parties when they are given them either for
friendship’s sake, or in gratitude for some former act of justice, or to
induce them to give justice in future, or to oblige them to pay particular
attention to their case, or to engage them to despatch it promptly.’ The
learned Escobar delivers himself to the same effect: ‘If there be a number of
persons, none of whom have more right than another to have their causes
disposed of, will the judge who accepts of something from one of them, on
condition—expacto—of taking up his cause first, be guilty of sin? Certainly
not, according to Layman; for, in common equity, he does no injury to the
rest by granting to one, in consideration of his present, what he was at
liberty to grant to any of them he pleased; and besides, being under an equal
obligation to them all in respect of their right, he becomes more obliged to
the individual who furnished the donation, who thereby acquired for himself a
preference above the rest—a preference which seems capable of a pecuniary
valuation—quae obligatio videtur pretio aestimabilis.’” “May it please your
reverence,” said I, “after such a permission, I am surprised that the first
magistrates of the kingdom should know no better. For the first president has
actually carried an order in Parliament to prevent certain clerks of court
from taking money for that very sort of preference—a sign that he is far from
thinking it allowable in judges; and everybody has applauded this as a reform
of great benefit to all parties.” The worthy monk was surprised
at this piece of intelligence, and replied: “Are you sure of that? I heard
nothing about it. Our opinion, recollect, is only probable; the contrary is
probable also.” “To tell you the truth,
father,” said I, “people think that the first president has acted more than
probably well, and that he has thus put a stop to a course of public
corruption which has been too long winked at.” “I am not far from being of
the same mind,” returned he; “but let us waive that point, and say no more
about the judges.” “You are quite right, sir,”
said I; “indeed, they are not half thankful enough for all you have done for
them.” “That is not my reason,” said
the father; “but there is so much to be said on all the different classes
that we must study brevity on each of them. Let us now say a word or two
about men of business. You are aware that our great difficulty with these
gentlemen is to keep them from usury—an object to accomplish which our
fathers have been at particular pains; for they hold this vice in such
abhorrence that Escobar declares ‘it is heresy to say that usury is no sin’;
and Father Bauny has filled several pages of his Summary of Sins with the
pains and penalties due to usurers. He declares them ‘infamous during their
life, and unworthy of sepulture after their death.’” “O dear! “ cried I, “I had no
idea he was so severe.” “He can be severe enough when
there is occasion for it,” said the monk; “but then this learned casuist,
having observed that some are allured into usury merely from the love of
gain, remarks in the same place that ‘he would confer no small obligation on
society, who, while he guarded it against the evil effects of usury, and of
the sin which gives birth to it, would suggest a method by which one’s money
might secure as large, if not a larger profit, in some honest and lawful employment
than he could derive from usurious dealings.” “Undoubtedly, father, there
would be no more usurers after that.” “Accordingly,” continued he,
“our casuist has suggested ‘a general method for all sorts of
persons—gentlemen, presidents, councillors,’ &c.; and a very simple
process it is, consisting only in the use of certain words which must be
pronounced by the person in the act of lending his money; after which he may
take his interest for it without fear of being a usurer, which he certainly would
be on any other plan.” “And pray what may those
mysterious words be, father?” “I will give you them exactly
in his own words,” said the father; “for he has written his Summary in
French, you know, ‘that it may be understood by everybody,’ as he says in the
preface: ‘The person from whom the loan is asked must answer, then, in this
manner: I have got no money to lend, I have got a little, however, to lay out
for an honest and lawful profit. If you are anxious to have the sum you
mention in order to make something of it by your industry, dividing the
profit and loss between us, I may perhaps be able to accommodate you. But now
I think of it, as it may be a matter of difficulty to agree about the profit,
if you will secure me a certain portion of it, and give me so much for my
principal, so that it incur no risk, we may come to terms much sooner, and
you shall touch the cash immediately.’ Is not that an easy plan for gaining
money without sin? And has not Father Bauny good reason for concluding with
these words: ‘Such, in my opinion, is an excellent plan by which a great many
people, who now provoke the just indignation of God by their usuries,
extortions, and illicit bargains, might save themselves, in the way of making
good, honest, and legitimate profits’?” “O sir!” I exclaimed, “what
potent words these must be! Doubtless they must possess some latent virtue to
chase away the demon of usury which I know nothing of, for, in my poor
judgement, I always thought that that vice consisted in recovering more money
that what was lent.” “You know little about it
indeed,” he replied. “Usury, according to our fathers, consists in little
more than the intention of taking the interest as usurious. Escobar,
accordingly, shows you how you may avoid usury by a simple shift of the
intention. ‘It would be downright usury,’ says he ‘to take interest from the
borrower, if we should exact it as due in point of justice; but if only
exacted as due in point of gratitude, it is not usury. Again, it is not
lawful to have directly the intention of profiting by the money lent; but to
claim it through the medium of the benevolence of the borrower—media
benevolentia—is not usury.’ These are subtle methods; but, to my mind, the
best of them all (for we have a great choice of them) is that of the Mohatra
bargain.” “The Mohatra, father!” “You are not acquainted with
it, I see,” returned he. “The name is the only strange thing about it.
Escobar will explain it to you: ‘The Mohatra bargain is effected by the needy
person purchasing some goods at a high price and on credit, in order to sell
them over again, at the same time and to the same merchant, for ready money
and at a cheap rate.’ This is what we call the Mohatra—a sort of bargain, you
perceive, by which a person receives a certain sum of ready money by becoming
bound to pay more.” “But, sir, I really think
nobody but Escobar has employed such a term as that; is it to be found in any
other book?” “How little you do know of
what is going on, to be sure!” cried the father. “Why, the last work on theological
morality, printed at Paris this very year, speaks of the Mohatra, and
learnedly, too. It is called Epilogus Summarum, and is an abridgment of all
the summaries of divinity—extracted from Suarez, Sanchez, Lessius, Fagundez,
Hurtado, and other celebrated casuists, as the title bears. There you will
find it said, on p. 54, that ‘the Mohatra bargain takes place when a man who
has occasion for twenty pistoles purchases from a merchant goods to the
amount of thirty pistoles, payable within a year, and sells them back to him
on the spot for twenty pistoles ready money.’ This shows you that the Mohatra
is not such an unheard-of term as you supposed.” “But, father, is that sort of
bargain lawful?” “Escobar,” replied he, “tells
us in the same place that there are laws which prohibit it under very severe
penalties.” “It is useless, then, I
suppose?” “Not at all; Escobar, in the
same passage, suggests expedients for making it lawful: ‘It is so, even
though the principal intention both of the buyer and seller is to make money
by the transaction, provided the seller, in disposing of the goods, does not
exceed their highest price, and in re-purchasing them does not go below their
lowest price, and that no previous bargain has been made, expressly or
otherwise.’ Lessius, however, maintains that ‘even though the merchant has
sold his goods, with the intention of re-purchasing them at the lowest price,
he is not bound to make restitution of the profit thus acquired, unless,
perhaps, as an act of charity, in the case of the person from whom it had
been exacted being in poor circumstances, and not even then, if he cannot do
it without inconvenience—si commode non potest.’ This is the utmost length to
which they could go.” “Indeed, sir,” said I, “any
further indulgence would, I should think, be rather too much.” “Oh, our fathers know very
well when it is time for them to stop!” cried the monk. “So much, then, for
the utility of the Mohatra. I might have mentioned several other methods, but
these may suffice; and I have now to say a little in regard to those who are
in embarrassed circumstances. Our casuists have sought to relieve them,
according to their condition of life. For, if they have not enough of
property for a decent maintenance, and at the same time for paying their
debts, they permit them to secure a portion by making a bankruptcy with their
creditors. This has been decided by Lessius, and confirmed by Escobar, as
follows: ‘May a person who turns bankrupt, with a good conscience keep back
as much of his personal estate as may be necessary to maintain his family in
a respectable way—ne indecore vivat? I hold, with Lessius, that he may, even
though he may have acquired his wealth unjustly and by notorious crimes—ex
injustilia et notorio delicto; only, in this case, he is not at liberty to
retain so large an amount as he otherwise might.’” “Indeed, father! what a
strange sort of charity is this, to allow property to remain in the hands of
the man who has acquired it by rapine, to support him in his extravagance
rather than go into the hands of his creditors, to whom it legitimately
belongs!” “It is impossible to please
everybody,” replied the father; “and we have made it our particular study to
relieve these unfortunate people. This partiality to the poor has induced our
great Vasquez, cited by Castro Palao, to say that ‘if one saw a thief going
to rob a poor man, it would be lawful to divert him from his purpose by
pointing out to him some rich individual, whom he might rob in place of the
other.’ If you have not access to Vasquez or Castro Palao, you will find the
same thing in your copy of Escobar; for, as you are aware, his work is little
more than a compilation from twenty-four of the most celebrated of our
fathers. You will find it in his treatise, entitled The Practice of our
Society, in the Matter of Charity towards our Neighbours.” “A very singular kind of
charity this,” I observed, “to save one man from suffering loss, by
inflicting it upon another! But I suppose that, to complete the charity, the
charitable adviser would be bound in conscience to restore to the rich man
the sum which he had made him lose?” “Not at all, sir,” returned
the monk; “for he did not rob the man—he only advised the other to do it. But
only attend to this notable decision of Father Bauny, on a case which will
still more astonish you, and in which you would suppose there was a much
stronger obligation to make restitution. Here are his identical words: ‘A
person asks a soldier to beat his neighbour, or to set fire to the barn of a
man that has injured him. The question is whether, in the essence of the
soldier, the person who employed him to commit these outrages is bound to
make reparation out of his own pocket for the damage that has followed? My
opinion is that he is not. For none can be held bound to restitution, where
there has been no violation of justice; and is justice violated by asking
another to do us a favour? As to the nature of the request which he made, he
is at liberty either to acknowledge or deny it; to whatever side he may
incline, it is a matter of mere choice; nothing obliges him to it, unless it
may be the goodness, gentleness, and easiness of his disposition. If the
soldier, therefore, makes no reparation for the mischief he has done, it
ought not to be exacted from him at whose request he injured the innocent.’” This sentence had very nearly
broken up the whole conversation, for I was on the point of bursting into a
laugh at the idea of the goodness and gentleness of a burner of barns, and at
these strange sophisms which would exempt from the duty of restitution the
principal and real incendiary, whom the civil magistrate would not exempt
from the halter. But, had I not restrained myself, the worthy monk, who was
perfectly serious, would have been displeased; he proceeded, therefore,
without any alteration of countenance, in his observations. “From such a mass of evidence,
you ought to be satisfied now of the futility of your objections; but we are
losing sight of our subject. To revert, then, to the succour which our
fathers apply to persons in straitened circumstances, Lessius, among others,
maintains that ‘it is lawful to steal, not only in a case of extreme
necessity, but even where the necessity is grave, though not extreme.’” “This is somewhat startling,
father,” said I. “There are very few people in this world who do not consider
their cases of necessity to be grave ones, and to whom, accordingly, you
would not give the right of stealing with a good conscience. And, though you
should restrict the permission to those only who are really and truly in that
condition, you open the door to an infinite number of petty larcenies which
the magistrates would punish in spite of your grave necessity, and which you
ought to repress on a higher principle—you who are bound by your office to be
the conservators, not of justice only, but of charity between man and man, a
grace which this permission would destroy. For after all, now, is it not a
violation of the law of charity, and of our duty to our neighbour, to deprive
a man of his property in order to turn it to our own advantage? Such, at
least, is the way I have been taught to think hitherto.” “That will not always hold
true,” replied the monk; “for our great Molina has taught us that ‘the rule
of charity does not bind us to deprive ourselves of a profit, in order
thereby to save our neighbour from a corresponding loss.’ He advances this in
corroboration of what he had undertaken to prove—‘that one is not bound in
conscience to restore the goods which another had put into his hands in order
to cheat his creditors.’ Lessius holds the same opinion, on the same ground.
Allow me to say, sir, that you have too little compassion for people in
distress. Our fathers have had more charity than that comes to: they render
ample justice to the poor, as well as the rich; and, I may add, to sinners as
well as saints. For, though far from having any predilection for criminals,
they do not scruple to teach that the property gained by crime may be
lawfully retained. ‘No person,’ says Lessius, speaking generally, ‘is bound,
either by the law of nature or by positive laws (that is, by any law), to
make restitution of what has been gained by committing a criminal action,
such as adultery, even though that action is contrary to justice.’ For, as
Escobar comments on this writer, ‘though the property which a woman acquires
by adultery is certainly gained in an illicit way, yet once acquired, the
possession of it is lawful—quamvis mulier illicite acquisat, licite tamen
retinet acquisita.’ It is on this principle that the most celebrated of our
writers have formally decided that the bribe received by a judge from one of
the parties who has a bad case, in order to procure an unjust decision in his
favour, the money got by a soldier for killing a man, or the emoluments
gained by infamous crimes, may be legitimately retained. Escobar, who has
collected this from a number of our authors, lays down this general rule on
the point that ‘the means acquired by infamous courses, such as murder,
unjust decisions, profligacy, &c., are legitimately possessed, and none
are obliged to restore them.’ And, further, ‘they may dispose of what they
have received for homicide, profligacy, &c., as they please; for the
possession is just, and they have acquired a propriety in the fruits of their
iniquity.’” “My dear father,” cried I,
“this is a mode of acquisition which I never heard of before; and I question
much if the law will hold it good, or if it will consider assassination,
injustice, and adultery, as giving valid titles to property.” “I do not know what your
law-books may say on the point,” returned the monk; “but I know well that our
books, which are the genuine rules for conscience, bear me out in what I say.
It is true they make one exception, in which restitution is positively
enjoined; that is, in the case of any receiving money from those who have no
right to dispose of their property such as minors and monks. ‘Unless,’ says
the great Molina, ‘a woman has received money from one who cannot dispose’ of
it, such as a monk or a minor—nisi mulier accepisset ab eo qui alienare non
potest, ut a religioso et filio familias. In this case she must give back the
money.’ And so says Escobar.” “May it please your
reverence,” said I, “the monks, I see, are more highly favoured in this way
than other people.” “By no means,” he replied;
“have they not done as much generally for all minors, in which class monks
may be viewed as continuing all their lives? It is barely an act of justice
to make them an exception; but with regard to all other people, there is no
obligation whatever to refund to them the money received from them for a
criminal action. For, as has been amply shown by Lessius, ‘a wicked action
may have its price fixed in money, by calculating the advantage received by
the person who orders it to be done and the trouble taken by him who carries
it into execution; on which account the latter is not bound to restore the
money he got for the deed, whatever that may have been—homicide, injustice,
or a foul act’ (for such are the illustrations which he uniformly employs in
this question); ‘unless he obtained the money from those having no right to
dispose of their property. You may object, perhaps, that he who has obtained
money for a piece of wickedness is sinning and, therefore, ought neither to
receive nor retain it. But I reply that, after the thing is done, there can
be no sin either in giving or in receiving payment for it.’ The great
Filiutius enters still more minutely into details, remarking ‘that a man is
bound in conscience to vary his payments for actions of this sort, according
to the different conditions of the individuals who commit them, and some may
bring a higher price than others.’ This he confirms by very solid arguments.” He then pointed out to me, in
his authors, some things of this nature so indelicate that I should be
ashamed to repeat them; and indeed the monk himself, who is a good man, would
have been horrified at them himself, were it not for the profound respect
which he entertains for his fathers, and which makes him receive with
veneration everything that proceeds from them. Meanwhile, I held my tongue,
not so much with the view of allowing him to enlarge on this matter as from
pure astonishment at finding the books of men in holy orders stuffed with
sentiments at once so horrible, so iniquitous, and so silly. He went on,
therefore, without interruption in his discourse, concluding as follows: “From these premisses, our
illustrious Molina decides the following question (and after this, I think
you will have got enough): ‘If one has received money to perpetrate a wicked
action, is he obliged to restore it? We must distinguish here,’ says this
great man; ‘if he has not done the deed, he must give back the cash; if he
has, he is under no such obligation!’ Such are some of our principles
touching restitution. You have got a great deal of instruction to-day; and I
should like, now, to see what proficiency you have made. Come, then, answer
me this question: ‘Is a judge, who has received a sum of money from one of the
parties before him, in order to pronounce a judgement in his favour, obliged
to make restitution?’” “You were just telling me a
little ago, father, that he was not.” “I told you no such thing,”
replied the father; “did I express myself so generally? I told you he was not
bound to make restitution, provided he succeeded in gaining the cause for the
party who had the wrong side of the question. But if a man has justice on his
side, would you have him to purchase the success of his cause, which is his
legitimate right? You are very unconscionable. Justice, look you, is a debt
which the judge owes, and therefore he cannot sell it; but he cannot be said
to owe injustice, and therefore he may lawfully receive money for it. All our
leading authors, accordingly, agree in teaching ‘that though a judge is bound
to restore the money he had received for doing an act of justice, unless it
was given him out of mere generosity, he is not obliged to restore what he
has received from a man in whose favour he has pronounced an unjust
decision.’” This preposterous decision
fairly dumbfounded me, and, while I was musing on its pernicious tendencies,
the monk had prepared another question for me. “Answer me again,” said he,
“with a little more circumspection. Tell me now, ‘if a man who deals in
divination is obliged to make restitution of the money he has acquired in the
exercise of his art?’” “Just as you please, your
reverence,” said I. “Eh! what!—just as I please!
Indeed, but you are a pretty scholar! It would seem, according to your way of
talking, that the truth depended on our will and pleasure. I see that, in the
present case, you would never find it out yourself: so I must send you to
Sanchez for a solution of the problem—no less a man than Sanchez. In the
first place, he makes a distinction between ‘the case of the diviner who has
recourse to astrology and other natural means, and that of another who
employs the diabolical art. In the one case, he says, the diviner is bound to
make restitution; in the other he is not.’ Now, guess which of them is the
party bound?” “It is not difficult to find
out that,” said I. “I see what you mean to say,”
he replied. “You think that he ought to make restitution in the case of his
having employed the agency of demons. But you know nothing about it; it is
just the reverse. ‘If,’ says Sanchez, ‘the sorcerer has not taken care and
pains to discover, by means of the devil, what he could not have known
otherwise, he must make restitution—si nullam operam apposuit ut arte diaboli
id sciret, but if he has been at that trouble, he is not obliged.’” “And why so, father?” “Don’t you See?” returned he.
“It is because men may truly divine by the aid of the devil, whereas
astrology is a mere sham.” “But, sir, should the devil
happen not to tell the truth (and he is not much more to be trusted than
astrology), the magician must, I should think, for the same reason, be
obliged to make restitution?” “Not always,” replied the
monk: “Distinguo, as Sanchez says, here. If the magician be ignorant of the
diabolic art—si sit artis diabolicae ignarus—he is bound to restore: but if
he is an expert sorcerer, and has done all in his power to arrive at the
truth, the obligation ceases; for the industry of such a magician may be
estimated at a certain sum of money.’” “There is some sense in that,”
I said; “for this is an excellent plan to induce sorcerers to aim at
proficiency in their art, in the hope of making an honest livelihood, as you
would say, by faithfully serving the public.” “You are making a jest of it,
I suspect,” said the father: “that is very wrong. If you were to talk in that
way in places where you were not known, some people might take it amiss and
charge you with turning sacred subjects into ridicule.” “That, father, is a charge
from which I could very easily vindicate myself; for certain I am that
whoever will be at the trouble to examine the true meaning of my words will
find my object to be precisely the reverse; and perhaps, sir, before our
conversations are ended, I may find an opportunity of making this very amply
apparent.” “Ho, ho,” cried the monk,
“there is no laughing in your head now.” “I confess,” said I, “that the
suspicion that I intended to laugh at things sacred would be as painful for
me to incur as it would be unjust in any to entertain it.” “I did not say it in earnest,”
returned the father; “but let us speak more seriously.” “I am quite disposed to do so,
if you prefer it; that depends upon you, father. But I must say, that I have
been astonished to see your friends carrying their attentions to all sorts
and conditions of men so far as even to regulate the legitimate gains of
sorcerers.” “One cannot write for too many
people,” said the monk, “nor be too minute in particularising cases, nor
repeat the same things too often in different books. You may be convinced of
this by the following anecdote, which is related by one of the gravest of our
fathers, as you may well suppose, seeing he is our present Provincial—the reverend
Father Cellot: ‘We know a person,’ says he, ‘who was carrying a large sum of
money’ in his pocket to restore it, in obedience to the orders of his
confessor, and who, stepping into a bookseller’s shop by the way, inquired if
there was anything new?—numquid novi?—when the bookseller showed him a book
on moral theology, recently published; and turning over the leaves
carelessly, and without reflection, he lighted upon a passage describing his
own case, and saw that he was under no obligation to make restitution: upon
which, relieved from the burden of his scruples, he returned home with a
purse no less heavy, and a heart much lighter, than when he left it—abjecta
scrupuli sarcina, retento auri pondere, levior domum repetiit.’ “Say, after hearing that, if
it is useful or not to know our maxims? Will you laugh at them now? or
rather, are you not prepared to join with Father Cellot in the pious
reflection which he makes on the blessedness of that incident? ‘Accidents of
that kind,’ he remarks, ‘are, with God, the effect of his providence; with
the guardian angel, the effect of his good guidance; with the individuals to
whom they happen, the effect of their predestination. From all eternity, God
decided that the golden chain of their salvation should depend on such and
such an author, and not upon a hundred others who say the same thing, because
they never happen to meet with them. Had that man not written, this man would
not have been saved. All, therefore, who find fault with the multitude of our
authors, we would beseech, in the bowels of Jesus Christ, to beware of
envying others those books which the eternal election of God and the blood of
Jesus Christ have purchased for them!’ Such are the eloquent terms in which
this learned man proves successfully the proposition which he had advanced,
namely, ‘How useful it must be to have a great many writers on moral
theology—quam utile sit de theologia morali multos scribere!’” “Father,” said I, “I shall
defer giving you my opinion of that passage to another opportunity; in the
meantime, I shall only say that as your maxims are so useful, and as it is so
important to publish them, you ought to continue to give me further
instruction in them. For I can assure you that the person to whom I send them
shows my letters to a great many people. Not that we intend to avail
ourselves of them in our own case; but, indeed, we think it will be useful
for the world to be informed about them.” “Very well,” rejoined the
monk, “you see I do not conceal them; and, in continuation, I am ready to
furnish you, at our next interview, with an account of the comforts and
indulgences which our fathers allow, with the view of rendering salvation
easy, and devotion agreeable; so that, in addition to what you have hitherto
learned as to particular conditions of men, you may learn what applies in
general to all classes, and thus you will have gone through a complete course
of instruction.” So saying, the monk took his leave of me. I am, &c. P.S. I have
always forgot to tell you that there are different editions of Escobar.
Should you think of purchasing him, I would advise you to choose the Lyons
edition, having on the title page the device of a lamb lying on a book sealed
with seven seals; or the Brussels edition of 1651. Both of these are better
and larger than the previous editions published at Lyons in the years 1644
and 1646. |
Blaise Pascal |
