described by his niece, seems to have taken place in the early summer of 1647. As soon as he was able, he removed to Paris, where we find him settled with h

m partly as a physician. "He came in part," says Jacqueline, "to consult as to my brother's illness." He appears to have given him very sound advice, which, unfortunately, Pascal did not follow-"to lie in bed as

whose touching pictures of the beauty and perfection of the Christian life awoke in the youthful enthusiast the desire of entering Port Royal. She opened personal communications with the sainted head of the House, the Mère Angélique, and also with M. Singlin, who recognised in her all the marks of a true vocation, but who would not allow her to proceed further without her father's consent and approval. The brother at this time strongly sympathised with her aspirations, and favoured them. On the father's arrival in Paris, the design of his daughter was imparted to him. He was greatly surprised and moved by the proposition-pleased, on the one hand, by his daughter's devotion, and yet deeply w

rtunities of amusing himself." Her brother, she adds, was very reluctant to take this advice, "because he saw its danger." At length, however, he yielded, "considering himself obliged to do all he could to restore his health, and because he thought that trivial amusements could not harm him. So he set himself on the world." When this definite change in Pascal's life began is left uncertain, but there are indications that he had largely abandoned his studies in 1649 and the following year. During these years there is nothing from his pen. The interval between the "recital" of the experiments on the Puy de D?me (1648), and his letter to M. Ribe

s belle savante." It is difficult to know what to make of this vague if piquant anecdote. Some of Pascal's more religious admirers have even been scandalised by it, and have tried to show that it could not refer to the author of the 'Pensées.' M. Cousin and other parties have emphasised it too much. [55] There seems no reason to doubt that the anecdote relates to the younger Pascal-it cannot reasonably be supposed to relate to his father. Nor is there any ground to suppose that Pascal was less likely to be interested in a bea

t Royal. She was told "that it was a talent of which God would not take any account-it was necessary to bury it," and this although she only exerted it now in the service of religion and the Church. While Madame Périer has given us no details, and, indeed, no facts whatever, of her brother's life at this time, she has given us a minute picture of Jacqueline's austerities. In everyt

s, how far the world had begun to exercise a new attraction over him, we learn nothing. It is evident from his letter to M. Périer on his father's death, nearly a year after this, that he still cherished strongly his religious convictions. Yet there is nothing in all thi

ed Jacqueline attended his last moments with assiduous tenderness; but no sooner was the event over than she re

cember; and she fixed upon the 4th of January for carrying out her decision. On the evening before, she begged me to say something to my brother, that he might not be taken by surprise. I did so with all the precaution I could; but although I hinted that it was only a retreat, with the view of knowing something of the sort of life, he did not fail to be deeply touched. He withdrew very sad to his chamber without seeing my sister, who was then in a small cabinet where she was accustomed to retire for prayer. She did not come out till my brother had left, as she feared his look would go to her heart. I told her for him what words of tenderness he had spoken; and after that we both retired. Though I consented with all my heart to what my sister was doing, because I thought it was for her the highest good, the greatnes

n the bosom of Port Royal, and the strong counsels both of the Mère Angélique and the Mère Agnès. But after a while this did not satisfy her. When the time came to make her profession, she was anxious to do so, not merely with her own consent, but with her brother's. And accordingly, she addressed him in the following March a remarkable letter, in which, while reminding him that she was her own mistress to do as she wished in a matter so seriously affecting her life, she yet prayed him to give her a kindly greeting in her so

uit the world, and that the effort which it makes to retain me is to be regarded as only a visible punishment of the complacency with which I formerly regarded it, and which it now pleases God to give me power to resist. . . . Do not hinder those who do well; and do well yourself; or if you have not the strength to follow me, at least do not hold me back. Do not render me ungrateful to God for the grace which He has given to one whom you love. . .

ng appeal was to bring

s' Day. But seeing me firm not to delay, yet willing to give him some further time to think over the matter, he melted entirely, and expressed pity for the trouble which had made me delay so long a result which I had so long and so ardentl

pparently prefer strangers to her own kindred. They took the matter "in an entirely secular manner." This greatly grieved her in turn; and, balked at once in her wishes and her sisterly trust, she pictures in the most lively colours the distress she endured. La Mère Agnès consoled her in her disappointment, and sought to carry her thoughts beyond the mere chagrin which so obviously mingled with her higher feeling. Her own somewhat resentful obstinacy gradually yielded to the pure passivity of resignation-so strong in its

me to see her, she endeavoured to meet him as the Mother advised. "B

y guessed that it was his own conduct which was the cause of my uneasiness. All the same, he was desirous of making the first complaint; and then I learned that both he and my sister felt thems

what he had refused to her arguments. He was so "touched," she says, "with confusion, that he resolved

he Port-Royalist point of view. St Cyran had taught them that they were never "to receive anything for the house of God but that which came from God." Even he was not a little surprised, according to the statement of his sister, at all this scrupulousness-"the manner in which we deal with such matters;" and

he dowry, she is reminded that she had far more reason to be distressed by the "faults and infidelities" into which he had fallen towards God. [63a] He is represented as being so much engrossed with the vanities and amusements of the world as to prefer his own pleasure and advantage to the good of a religious community or the pious gratific

him. At first he was moderate in his worldly enjoyments; but a taste for them insensibly sprang up and carried him far away from his old associations and the pious severities of his former life. After his father's death this change was more clearly marked. He was master of his own affairs, and he plunged more f

le above his means-the companion of men of higher social position than himself, profuse in their habits and expenditure. That he lived in the midst of society of this kind can hardly be doubted. It is more doubtful how far his own habits had become those of an extravagant man of the world. His chief companion was one who remained bound to him through all the rest of his life, Pascal's influence having drawn him also from the world when the time of his own change came. This was the Duc de Roannez, a young man of fewer years than himself, who seems to have possessed many attractive qualities. He was devoted to Pascal-could hardly "bear him out of his sight," as Marguerite Périer says-and Pascal warmly returned his friendship. It seems as if they had lived together a good deal, or at least that Pascal spent the most of his time with

knowledge and attainments as a writer. Desbarreaux was a companion of both, but of a still lower grade-a man of open profligacy, and a despiser of the rites of the Church. Along with Miton and other boon companions, he is spoken of as betaking himself to St Cloud for carnival during the Holy Week. [66] The truth would seem to be that all these men came across Pascal's path at this time, and were more or less known to him. His allusions to both Miton and Desbarreaux in the Pensées imply this. There is a certain familiarity of knowledge indicated in the very heartiness with which he assails them-speaking of Miton as "hateful," [67a] and of Desbarreaux as having renounced reason and made himself a "brute." [67b] But it is against all probability, no less than against all the facts known to us, to suppo

d with a certain self-elation. [67d] According to M. Faugère, there was no particular difficulty, and therefore no particular merit, in the discovery. The fragment was clearly indexed in a catalogue of the Pascal MSS. in the well-known State library of Paris as follows: "Discours sur les Passions de l'Amour, par M. Pascal," and again in the body of the volume the fragment was entitled, "Discours, etc., on l'attribue à M. Pascal." The genuine

is remarkable paper. It commences in an abstrac

whose sources he feels deep and strong in his heart. The passions most characteristic of man, and which embrace most others, are love and ambition. They have no affinity, yet they are often united; together, they tend to weaken if not destroy each other. For however grand the human

ade, he must find in himself the type of that beauty which he seeks elsewhere. This defines and embodies itself in the difference of sex. A woman is the highest form of beauty. Endowed with mind, she is its living and marvellous

as a child. It creates intelligence, and feeds upon intelligence. . . . We exhaust our powe

ections on an object far beyond his rank, and the flame burns the more intensely that he is forced to conceal it in his own bosom. When we love one of elevated condition, ambition may at first coexist with affection. But love soon becomes the master. It

nitely value! . . . The fulness of love sometimes languishes, receiving no succour from the beloved object. Then we fall into misery; and hostile passions, lying in wait for the heart, tear it in a thousan

e heart is full; there is no room for care nor disquietude. Passion is then necessarily in excess; there is a plenitude in it which resists the commencement of reflection. Yet love and reason are not to be opposed, and love has always reason with it, although it implies a precipitation of thought w

olve to do and say many things, but when we are present we hesitate. The explanation is, that at a distance the reason is undisturbed, but in presence of the beloved object it is strangely moved. In love we fear to hazard lest we lose all. It is necessary to advance, yet who can tell to what point

nd touching, as with fire, many of its many fine utterances. Who was then, conceivably, the object of Pascal's affections? We have it on the authority of his niece that at this time, when he lived so much as the companion of the Duc de Roannez, he contemplated marrying and settling in the world. [71] This, and the indications of the piece itself, have led to the conjecture that he was in love with the sister of his friend. Charlotte Gouffier de Roannez was then about sixteen years of age, endowed with captivating graces of form and manner, animated by a sweet intelligence a

e social obstacles, which for a time may have seemed to him surmountable, at last may have shut out all hope from his heart. Many causes might unite to do this, even supposing his love was returned. It is certain that he continued the warm friend, not only of the Duc de Roannez, but of his sister; and in after-years a correspondence was established betwixt them implying the highest degree of mutual esteem and confidence. We have only the letters of Pascal; nothing is known of those of Mademoiselle de Roannez; the rigidity of the Jansenist c

t Royal with "extraordinary fervour"-she was persuaded to marry and become the Duchesse de la Feuillade. But her marriage proved unfortunate. Her children died young; her own health broke down; she herself at length died under an operation, be

claimed the heart of Pascal, and called fort