geometry. As an experimentalist he has earned no vulgar celebrity. He
was a young man when the interesting discoveries in pneumatics were
working a grand revolution in natural philosophy. The experiments of
Torricelli had proved, what his great master Galileo had conjectured,
the weight and pressure of the air, and had given a rude shock to the
old doctrine of the schools that “Nature abhors a vacuum;” but many
still clung fondly to the old way, and when pressed with the fact that
fluids rise in an exhausted tube to a certain height, and will rise no
higher, though with a vacuum above them, still asserted that the fluids
rose because Nature abhors a vacuum, but qualified their assertion with
an admission that she had some moderation in her abhorrence. Having
satisfied himself by his own experiments of the truth of Torricelli’s
theory, Pascal with his usual sagacity devised the means of satisfying
all who were capable of being convinced. He reasoned that if, according
to the new theory, founded on the experiments made with mercury, the
weight and general pressure of the air forced up the mercury in the
tube, the height of the mercury would be in proportion to the height of
the column of incumbent air; in other words, that the mercury would be
lower at the top of a mountain than at the bottom of it: on the other
hand, that if the old answer were the right one, no difference would
appear from the change of situation. Accordingly, he directed the
experiment to be made on the Puy de Dôme, a lofty mountain in Auvergne,
and the height of the barometer at the top and bottom of the mountain
being taken at the same moment, a difference of more than three inches
was observed. This set the question at rest for ever. The particular
notice which we have taken of this celebrated experiment, made in his
twenty-fifth year, may be justified by the importance attached to it by
no mean authority. Sir W. Herschell observes, in his Discourse on the
Study of Natural Philosophy, page 230, that “it tended perhaps more
powerfully than any thing which had previously been done in science to
confirm in the minds of men that disposition to experimental
verification which had scarcely yet taken full and secure root.”
Whatever may be the value of the fruits of Pascal’s genius, it should be
remembered that they were all produced within the space of a life which
did not number forty years, and that he was so miserably the victim of
disease that from the time of boyhood he never passed a day without
pain.
His health had probably been impaired by his earlier exertions; but the
intense mental labour expended on the arithmetical machine appears to
have completely undermined his constitution, and to have laid the
foundation of those acute bodily sufferings which cruelly afflicted him
during the remainder of his life. His friends, with the hope of checking
the evil, sought to withdraw him from his studies, and tempted him into
various modes of relaxation. But the remedy was applied too late. The
death of his father in 1651, and the retirement of his unmarried sister
from the world to join the devout recluses of Port Royal-des-Champs,
released him from all restraint. He sadly abused this liberty, until the
frightful aggravation of his complaints obliged him to abandon
altogether his scientific pursuits, and reluctantly to follow the advice
of his physicians, to mix more freely in general society. He obtained
some relief from medicine and change of habits; but, in 1654, an
accident both made his recovery hopeless, and destroyed the relish which
he had begun to feel for social life. He was in his carriage on the Pont
de Neuilly, at a part of the bridge which was unprotected by a parapet,
when two of the horses became unruly, and plunged into the Seine. The
traces broke, and Pascal was thus saved from instant death. He
considered that he had received a providential warning of the
uncertainty of life, and retired finally from the world, to make more
earnest preparation for eternity. This accident gave the last shock to
his already shattered nerves, and to a certain extent disordered his
imagination. The image of his late danger was continually before him,
and at times he fancied himself on the brink of a precipice. The evil
probably was increased by the rigid seclusion to which from this time he
condemned himself, and by the austerities which he inflicted on his
exhausted frame. His powerful intellect survived the wreck of his
constitution, and he gave ample proof to the last that its vigour was
unimpaired.
In his religious opinions he agreed with the Jansenists, and, without
being formally enrolled in their society, was on terms of intimate
friendship with those pious and learned members of the sect, who had
established themselves in the wilds of Port Royal. His advocacy of their
cause at a critical time was so important to his fame and to literature,
that a few words may be allowed on the circumstances which occasioned
it.
The Jansenists, though they earnestly deprecated the name of heretics,
and were most fiercely opposed to the Huguenots and other Protestants,
did in fact nearly approach in many points the reformed churches, and
departed widely from the fashionable standard of orthodoxy in their own
communion. They were in the first instance brought into collision with
their great enemies the Jesuits by the opinions which they held on the
subjects of grace and free-will. As the controversy proceeded, the
points of difference between the contending parties became more marked
and more numerous. The rigid system of morals taught and observed by the
Jansenists, and the superior regard which they paid to personal holiness
in comparison with ceremonial worship, appeared in advantageous contrast
with the lax morality and formal religion of the Jesuits. Hence, though
there was much that was repulsive in their discipline, and latterly, not
a little that was exceptionable in their conduct, they could reckon in
their ranks many of the most enlightened as well as the most pious
Christians in France. It was natural that Pascal, who was early
impressed with the deepest reverence for religion, should be attracted
to a party which seemed at least to be in earnest, whilst others were
asleep; and it is more a matter of regret than of surprise, that
latterly, in his state of physical weakness and nervous excitement, he
should have been partially warped from his sobriety by intercourse with
men, whose Christian zeal was in too many instances disfigured by a
visionary and enthusiastic spirit. The Papal Court at first dealt with
them tenderly; for it was in truth no easy matter to condemn their
founder Jansenius, without condemning its own great doctor the
celebrated Augustin. But the vivacious doctors of the Sorbonne, on the
publication of a letter by the Jansenist Arnauld, took fire, and by
their eagerness kindled a flame that well nigh consumed their own
church.
Whilst they were in deliberation on the misdoings of Arnauld, Pascal put
forth under the name of Louis de Montalte the first of that series of
letters to “a friend in the country”—à un provincial par un de ses
amis—which, when afterwards collected, received by an absurd misnomer,
the title of the Provincial Letters of Pascal. In these letters, after
having exhibited in a light irresistibly ludicrous, the disputes of the
Sorbonne, he proceeds with the same weapon of ridicule, all powerful in
his hand, to hold forth to derision and contempt the profligate
casuistry of the Jesuits. For much of his matter he was undoubtedly
indebted to his Jansenist friends, and it is commonly said that he was
taught by them to reproach unfairly the whole body of Jesuits, with the
faults of some obscure writers of their order. These writers, however,
were at least well known to the Jesuits, their writings had gone through
numerous editions with approbation, and had infused some portion of
their spirit into more modern and popular tracts. Moreover, the Society
of Jesuits, constituted as it was, had ready means of relieving itself
from the discredit of such infamous publications; yet amongst the many
works, which by their help found a place in the index of prohibited
books, Pascal might have looked in vain for the works of their own
Escobar. However this may be, it is universally acknowledged, that the
credit of the Jesuits sunk under the blow, that these letters are a
splendid monument of the genius of Pascal, and that as a literary work
they have placed him in the very first rank among the French classics.
It seems that he had formed a design, even in the height of his
scientific ardour, of executing some great work for the benefit of
religion. This design took a more definite shape after his retirement,
and he communicated orally to his friends the sketch of a comprehensive
work on the Evidences of Christianity, which his early death, together
with his increasing bodily infirmities, prevented him from completing.
Nothing was left but unconnected fragments, containing for the most part
his thoughts on subjects apparently relating to his great design,
hastily written on small scraps of paper, without order or arrangement
of any kind. They were published in 1670, with some omissions, by his
friends of Port Royal, and were afterwards given to the world entire,
under the title of the Thoughts of Pascal. Many of the thoughts are such
as we should expect from a man who with a mind distinguished for its
originality, with an intimate knowledge of scripture, and lively piety,
had meditated much and earnestly on the subject of religion. In a book
so published, it is of course easy enough to find matter for censure and
minute criticism; but most Christian writers have been content to bear
testimony to its beauties and to borrow largely from its rich and varied
stores. Among the editors of the Thoughts of Pascal are found Condorcet
and Voltaire, who enriched their editions with a commentary. With what
sort of spirit they entered on their work may be guessed from Voltaire’s
well known advice to his brother philosopher. “Never be weary, my
friend, of repeating that the brain of Pascal was turned after his
accident on the Pont de Neuilly.” Condorcet was not the man to be weary
in such an employment; but here he had to deal with stubborn facts. The
brain of Pascal produced after the accident not only the Thoughts, but
also the Provincial Letters, and the various treatises on the Cycloid,
the last of which was written not long before his death.
He died August 19th, 1662, aged thirty-nine years and two months.
By those who knew him personally he is said to have been modest and
reserved in his manners, but withal, ready to enliven conversation with
that novelty of remark and variety of information which might be
expected from his well stored and original mind. That spirit of raillery
which should belong to the author of the Provincial Letters, showed
itself also occasionally in his talk, but always with a cautious desire
not to give needless pain or offence.
He seemed to have constantly before his eyes the privations and
sufferings to which a large portion of the human race is exposed, and to
receive almost with trembling, those indulgences which were denied to
others. Thus, when curtailing his own comforts that he might perform
more largely the duties of charity, he seemed only to be disencumbering
himself of that which he could not safely retain.
As a philosopher, it is the great glory of Pascal, that he is numbered
with that splendid phalanx, which in the seventeenth century, following
the path opened by Galileo, assisted to overthrow the tyranny of the
schools, and to break down the fences which for ages had obstructed the
progress of real knowledge; men who were indeed benefactors to science,
and who have also left behind them for general use an encouraging proof
that the most inveterate prejudices, the most obstinate attachment to
established errors, and hostility to improvement may be overcome by
resolute perseverance, and a bold reliance on the final victory of
truth. No one, however, will coldly measure the honour due to this
extraordinary man by his actual contributions to the cause of science or
literature. The genius of the child anticipated manhood: his more
matured intellect could only show promises of surpassing glory when it
escaped from the weak frame in which it was lodged.
For further information the reader is referred to the discourse on the
life and works of Pascal, which first appeared in the complete edition
of his works in 1779, and has since been published separately at Paris;
to the Biographie Universelle; and to the life of Pascal, written by his
sister, Madame Perier, which is prefixed to her edition of his Thoughts.
[Illustration]
ERASMUS.
Desiderius Erasmus was born at Rotterdam on the 28th of October, 1467.
The irregular lives of his parents are related by him in a letter to the
secretary of Pope Julius II. It is sufficient to state here, that this
great genius and restorer of letters was not born in wedlock. His
unsophisticated name, as well as that of his father, was Gerard. This
word in the Dutch language means _amiable_. According to the affectation
of the period, he translated it into the Latin term, Desiderius, and
superadded the Greek synonyme of Erasmus. Late in a life of vicissitude
and turmoil, he found leisure from greater evils to lament that he had
been so neglectful of grammatical accuracy as to call himself Erasmus,
and not Erasmius.
In a passage of the life written by himself, he says that “in his early
years he made but little progress in those unpleasant studies to which
he was not born;” and this gave his countrymen a notion that as a boy he
was slow of understanding. Hereon Bayle observes that those unpleasant
studies cannot mean learning in general, for which of all men he was
born; but that the expression might apply to music, as he was a
chorister in the cathedral church of Utrecht. He was afterwards sent to
one of the best schools in the Netherlands, where his talents at once
shone forth, and were duly appreciated. His master was so well satisfied
with his progress, and so thoroughly convinced of his great abilities,
as to have foretold what the event confirmed, that he would prove the
envy and wonder of all Germany.
[Illustration:
_Engraved by E. Scriven._
ERASMUS.
_From the original Picture by G. Penn,
in his Majesty’s Collection at Windsor._
Under the Superintendance of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
Knowledge.
_London, Published by Charles Knight, Pall Mall East._
]
At the age of fourteen Erasmus was removed from the school at Deventer
in consequence of the plague, of which his mother died, and his father
did not long survive her. With a view to possess themselves of his
patrimony, his guardians sent him to three several convents in
succession. At length, unable longer to sustain the conflict, he
reluctantly entered among the regular canons at Stein, near Tergou, in
1486. Much condescension to his peculiar humour was shown in dispensing
with established laws and customary ceremonies; but he was principally
led to make his profession by the arts of his guardians and the
dilapidation of his fortune. He describes monasteries, and his own in
particular, as destitute of learning and sound religion. “They are
places of impiety,” he says in his piece ‘De Contemptu Mundi,’ “where
every thing is done to which a depraved inclination can lead, under the
mask of religion; it is hardly possible for any one to keep himself pure
and unspotted.” Julius Scaliger and his other enemies assert that he
himself was deeply tainted by these impurities; but both himself and his
friends deny the charge.
He escaped from the cloister in consequence of the accuracy with which
he could speak and write Latin. This rare accomplishment introduced him
to the Bishop of Cambray, with whom he lived till 1490. He then took
pupils, among whom was the Lord Mountjoy, with several other noble
Englishmen. He says of himself, that “he lived rather than studied” at
Paris, where he had no books, and often wanted the common comforts of
life. Bad lodgings and bad diet permanently impaired his constitution,
which had been a very strong one. The plague drove him from the capital
before he could profit as he wished by the instructions of the
university in theology.
Some time after he left Paris, Erasmus came over to England, and resided
in Oxford, where he contracted friendship with all of any note in
literature. In a letter from London to a friend in Italy, he says, “What
is it, you will say, which captivates you so much in England? It is that
I have found a pleasant and salubrious air; I have met with humanity,
politeness, and learning; learning not trite and superficial, but deep
and accurate; true old Greek and Latin learning; and withal so much of
it, that but for mere curiosity, I have no occasion to visit Italy. When
Colet discourses, I seem to hear Plato himself. In Grocyn, I admire an
universal compass of learning. Linacre’s acuteness, depth, and accuracy
are not to be exceeded; nor did nature ever form any thing more elegant,
exquisite, and accomplished than More.”
On leaving England, Erasmus had a fever at Orleans, which recurred every
Lent for five years together. He tells us that Saint Genevieve
interceded for his recovery; but not without the help of a good
physician. At this time he was applying diligently to the study of
Greek. He says, that if he could but get some money, he would first buy
Greek books, and then clothes. His mode of acquiring the language was by
making translations from Lucian, Plutarch, and other authors. Many of
these translations appear in his works, and answered a double purpose;
for while they familiarized him with the languages, the sentiments and
the philosophy of the originals, they also furnished him with happy
trains of thought and expression, when he dedicated his editions of the
Fathers, or his own treatises, to his patrons.
We cannot follow him through his incessant journeys and change of places
during the first years of the sixteenth century. His fame was spread
over Europe, and his visits were solicited by popes, crowned heads,
prelates, and nobles; but much as the great coveted his society, they
suffered him to remain extremely poor. We learn from his ‘Enchiridion
Militis Christiani,’ published in 1503, that he had discovered many
errors in the Roman church, long before Luther appeared. His reception
at Rome was most flattering: his company was courted both by the learned
and by persons of the first rank and quality. After his visit to Italy,
he returned to England, which he preferred to all other countries. On
his arrival he took up his abode with his friend More, and within the
space of a week wrote his ‘Encomium Moriæ,’ the Praise of Folly, for
their mutual amusement. The general design is to show that there are
fools in all stations; and more particularly to expose the court of
Rome, with no great forbearance towards the Pope himself. Fisher, Bishop
of Rochester, Chancellor of the University, and Head of Queen’s College,
invited him to Cambridge, where he lived in the Lodge, was made Lady
Margaret’s Professor of Divinity, and afterwards Greek Professor. But
notwithstanding these academical honours and offices, he was still so
poor as to apply with importunity to Colet, Dean of St. Paul’s, for
fifteen angels as the price of a dedication. “Erasmus’s Walk” in the
grounds of Queen’s College still attests the honour conferred on the
university by the temporary residence of this great reviver of classical
learning.
On his return to the Low Countries, he was nominated by Charles of
Austria to a vacant bishopric in Sicily; but the right of presentation
happened to belong to the Pope. Erasmus laughed heartily at the prospect
of this incongruous preferment; and said that as the Sicilians were
merry fellows, they might possibly have liked such a bishop.
In the year 1516 he printed his edition, the first put forth in Greek,
of the New Testament. We learn from his letters, that there was one
college in Cambridge which would not suffer this work to be brought
within its walls: but the public voice spoke a different language; for
it went through three editions in less than twelve years. From 1516 to
1526 he was employed in publishing the works of Saint Jerome. Luther
blamed him for his partiality to this father. He says, “I prefer
Augustine to Jerome, as much as Erasmus prefers Jerome to Augustine.” As
far as this was a controversy of taste and criticism, the restorer of
letters was likely to have the better of the argument against the
apostle of the Reformation.
The times were now become tempestuous. Erasmus was of a placid temper,
and of a timid character. He endeavoured to reconcile the conflicting
parties in the church; but with that infelicity commonly attendant on
mediators, he drew on himself the anger of both. Churchmen complained
that his censures of the monks, of their grimaces and superstitions, had
paved the way for Luther. On the other hand, Erasmus offended the
Lutherans, by protesting against identifying the cause of literature
with that of the Reformation. He took every opportunity of declaring his
adherence to the see of Rome. The monks, with whom he waged continual
war, would have been better pleased had he openly gone over to the
enemy: his caustic remarks would have galled them less proceeding from a
Lutheran than from a Catholic. But his motives for continuing in the
communion of the established church, are clearly indicated in the
following passage: “Wherein could I have assisted Luther, if I had
declared myself for him and shared his danger? Instead of one man, two
would have perished. I cannot conceive what he means by writing with
such a spirit: one thing I know too well, that he has brought great
odium on the lovers of literature. He has given many wholesome doctrines
and good counsels: but I wish he had not defeated the effect of them by
his intolerable faults. But even if he had written in the most
unexceptionable manner, I had no inclination to die for the sake of
truth. Every man has not the courage necessary to make a martyr: I am
afraid that, if I were put to the trial, I should imitate St. Peter.”
In 1522 he published the works of Saint Hilary. About the same time he
published his Colloquies. In this work, among the strokes of satire, he
laughed at indulgences, auricular confession, and eating fish on
fast-days. The faculty of theology at Paris passed the following censure
on the book: “The fasts and abstinences of the church are slighted, the
suffrages of the holy virgin and of the saints are derided, virginity is
set below matrimony, Christians are discouraged from becoming monks, and
grammatical is preferred to theological erudition.” Pope Paul III. had
little better to propose to the cardinals and prelates commissioned to
consider about the reform of the church, than that young persons should
not be permitted to read Erasmus’s Colloquies. Colineus took a hint from
this prohibition: he reprinted them in 1527, and sold off an impression
of twenty-four thousand.
In 1524 a rumour was spread abroad that Erasmus was going to write
against Luther, which produced the following characteristic letter from
the Great Reformer: “Grace and peace from the Lord Jesus. I shall not
complain of you for having behaved yourself as a man alienated from us,
for the sake of keeping fair with the Papists; nor was I much offended
that in your printed books, to gain their favour or soften their fury,
you censured us with too much acrimony. We saw that the Lord had not
conferred on you the discernment, courage, and resolution to join with
us in freely and openly opposing these monsters; therefore we did not
expect from you what greatly surpasseth your strength and capacity. We
have borne with your weakness, and honoured that portion of the gift of
God which is in you.... I never wished that deserting your own province
you should come over to our camp. You might indeed have favoured us not
a little by your wit and eloquence: but as you have not the courage
requisite, it is safer for you to serve the Lord in your own way. Only
we feared that our adversaries should entice you to write against us, in
which case necessity would have constrained us to oppose you to your
face. I am concerned that the resentment of so many eminent persons of
your party has been excited against you: this must have given you great
uneasiness; for virtue like yours, mere human virtue, cannot raise a man
above being affected by such trials. Our cause is in no peril, although
even Erasmus should attack it with all his might: so far are we from
dreading the keenest strokes of his wit. On the other hand, my dear
Erasmus, if you duly reflect on your own weakness, you will abstain from
those sharp, spiteful figures of rhetoric, and treat of subjects better
suited to your powers.” Erasmus’s answer is not found in the collection
of his letters; but he must have been touched to the quick.