Pensees [Thoughts]
by Blaise Pascal
1660
Translated by W. F. Trotter
From Section III
233. Infinite- nothing.
-- Our soul is cast into a body, where it finds number, dimension.
Thereupon it reasons, and calls this nature
necessity, and can believe nothing else.
Unity joined to infinity adds nothing to it, no more
than one foot
to an infinite measure. The finite is annihilated in the presence of
the infinite, and becomes a pure nothing. So our spirit before God, so
our justice before divine justice. There is not so great a
disproportion between our justice and that of God as between unity and
infinity.
The justice of God must be vast like His compassion.
Now justice
to the outcast is less vast and ought less to offend our feelings than
mercy towards the elect.
We know that there is an infinite, and are ignorant
of its nature.
As we know it to be false that numbers are finite, it is therefore
true that there is an infinity in number. But we do not know what it
is. It is false that it is even, it is false that it is odd; for the
addition of a unit can make no change in its nature. Yet it is a
number, and every number is odd or even (this is certainly true of
every finite number). So we may well know that there is a God
without knowing what He is. Is there not one substantial truth, seeing
there are so many things which are not the truth itself? We know then
the existence and nature of the finite, because we
also are finite and have extension. We know the existence of the
infinite and are ignorant of its nature, because it has extension like
us, but not limits like us. But we know neither the existence nor
the nature of God, because He has neither extension nor limits.
But by faith we know His existence; in glory we
shall know His
nature. Now, I have already shown that we may well know the
existence of a thing, without knowing its nature.
Let us now speak according to natural lights.
If there is a God, He is infinitely
incomprehensible, since,
having neither parts nor limits, He has no affinity to us. We are then
incapable of knowing either what He is or if He is. This being so, who
will dare to undertake the decision of the question? Not we, who
have no affinity to Him.
Who then will blame Christians for not being able to
give a reason
for their belief, since they profess a religion for which they
cannot give a reason? They declare, in expounding it to the world,
that it is a foolishness, stultitiam; [I Cor. 1. 21.] and
then you complain that they do not prove it! If they proved it, they
would not keep their word; it
is in lacking proofs that they are not lacking in sense. "Yes, but
although this excuses those who offer it as such and takes away from
them the blame of putting it forward without reason, it does not
excuse those who receive it." Let us then examine this point, and say,
"God is, or He is not." But to which side shall we incline? Reason can
decide nothing here. There is an infinite chaos which separated us.
A game is being played at the extremity of this infinite distance
where heads or tails will turn up. What will you wager? According to
reason, you can do neither the one thing nor the other; according to
reason, you can defend neither of the propositions.
Do not, then, reprove for error those who have made
a choice;
for you know nothing about it. "No, but I blame them for having
made, not this choice, but a choice; for again both he who chooses
heads and he who chooses tails are equally at fault, they are both
in the wrong. The true course is not to wager at all."
Yes; but you must wager. It is not optional. You are
embarked.
Which will you choose then? Let us see. Since you must choose, let
us see which interests you least. You have two things to lose, the
true and the good; and two things to stake, your reason and your will,
your knowledge and your happiness; and your nature has two things to
shun, error and misery. Your reason is no more shocked in choosing one
rather than the other, since you must of necessity choose. This is one
point settled. But your happiness? Let us weigh the gain and the
loss in wagering that God is. Let us estimate these two chances. If
you gain, you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing. Wager, then,
without hesitation that He is. "That is very fine. Yes, I must
wager; but I may perhaps wager too much." Let us see. Since there is
an equal risk of gain and of loss, if you had only to gain two
lives, instead of one, you might still wager. But if there were
three lives to gain, you would have to play (since you are under the
necessity of playing), and you would be imprudent, when you are forced
to play, not to chance your life to gain three at a game where there
is an equal risk of loss and gain. But there is an eternity of life
and happiness. And this being so, if there were an infinity of
chances, of which one only would be for you, you would still be
right in wagering one to win two, and you would act stupidly, being
obliged to play, by refusing to stake one life against three at a game
in which out of an infinity of chances there is one for you, if
there were an infinity of an infinitely happy life to gain. But
there is here an infinity of an infinitely happy life to gain, a
chance of gain against a finite number of chances of loss, and what
you stake is finite. It is all divided; where-ever the infinite is and
there is not an infinity of chances of loss against that of gain,
there is no time to hesitate, you must give all. And thus, when one is
forced to play, he must renounce reason to preserve his life, rather
than risk it for infinite gain, as likely to happen as the loss of
nothingness.
For it is no use to say it is uncertain if we will
gain, and it is
certain that we risk, and that the infinite distance between the
certainly of what is staked and the uncertainty of
what will be
gained, equals the finite good which is certainly staked against the
uncertain infinite. It is not so, as every player stakes a certainty
to gain an uncertainty, and yet he stakes a finite certainty to gain a
finite uncertainty, without transgressing against reason. There is not
an infinite distance between the certainty staked and the
uncertainty of the gain; that is untrue. In truth, there is an
infinity between the certainty of gain and the certainty of loss.
But the uncertainty of the gain is proportioned to the certainty of
the stake according to the proportion of the chances of gain and loss.
Hence it comes that, if there are as many risks on one side as on
the other, the course is to play even; and then the certainty of the
stake is equal to the uncertainty of the gain, so far is it from
fact that there is an infinite distance between them. And so our
proposition is of infinite force, when there is the finite to stake in
a game where there are equal risks of gain and of loss, and the
infinite to gain. This is demonstrable; and if men are capable of
any truths, this is one.
"I confess it, I admit it. But, still, is there no
means of seeing
the faces of the cards?" Yes, Scripture and the rest, etc. "Yes, but I
have my hands tied and my mouth closed; I am forced to wager, and am
not free. I am not released, and am so made that I cannot believe.
What, then, would you have me do?"
True. But at least learn your inability to believe, since reason
brings you to this, and yet you cannot believe. Endeavour, then, to
convince yourself, not by increase of proofs of God, but by the
abatement of your passions. You would like to attain faith and do
not know the way; you would like to cure yourself of unbelief and
ask the remedy for it. Learn of those who have been bound like you,
and who now stake all their possessions. These are people who know the
way which you would follow, and who are cured of an ill of which you
would be cured. Follow the way by which they began; by acting as if
they believed, taking the holy water, having masses said, etc. Even
this will naturally make you believe, and deaden your acuteness.
"But this is what I am afraid of." And why? What have you to lose?
But to show you that this leads you there, it is
this which will
lessen the passions, which are your stumbling-blocks.
The end of this discourse. -- Now, what harm will befall you
in
taking this side? You will be faithful, humble, grateful, generous,
a sincere friend, truthful. Certainly you will not have those
poisonous pleasures, glory and luxury; but will you not have others? I
will tell you that you will thereby gain in this life, and that, at
each step you take on this road, you will see so great certainty of
gain, so much nothingness in what you risk, that you will at last
recognise that you have wagered for something certain and infinite,
for which you have given nothing.
"Ah! This discourse transports me, charms me," etc.
If this discourse pleases you and seems impressive,
know that it
is made by a man who has knelt, both before and after it, in prayer to
that Being, infinite and without parts, before whom he lays all he
has, for you also to lay before Him all you have for your own good and
for His glory, that so strength may be given to lowliness.
234. If we must not act save
on a certainty, we ought not to act
on religion, for it is not certain. But how many things we do on an
uncertainty, sea voyages, battles! I say then we must do nothing at
all, for nothing is certain, and that there is more certainty in
religion than there is as to whether we may see to-morrow; for it is
not certain that we may see to-morrow, and it is certainly possible
that we may not, see it. We cannot say as much about religion. It is
not certain that it is; but who will venture to say that it is
certainly possible that it is not? Now when we work for to-morrow, and
so on an uncertainty, we act reasonably; for we ought to work for an
uncertainty according to the doctrine of chance which was demonstrated
above.
Saint Augustine has seen that we work for an
uncertainty, on
sea, in battle, etc. But he has not seen the doctrine of chance
which proves that we should do so. Montaigne has seen that we are
shocked at a fool, and that habit is all-powerful; but he has not seen
the reason of this effect.
All these persons have seen the effects, but they
have not seen
the causes. They are, in comparison with those who have discovered the
causes, as those who have only eyes are in comparison with those who
have intellect. For the effects are perceptible by sense, and the
causes are visible only to the intellect. And although these effects
are seen by the mind, this mind is, in comparison with the mind
which sees the causes, as the bodily senses are in comparison with the
intellect.
235. Rem viderunt,
causam non viderunt. ["They have seen the thing; they have not
seen the cause." St.Augustine, Contra Pelagium, iv.]
236. According to the doctrine
of chance, you ought to put
yourself to the trouble of searching for the truth; for if you die
without worshipping the True Cause, you are lost. "But," say you,
"if He had wished me to worship Him, He would have left me signs of
His will." He has done so; but you neglect them. Seek them, therefore;
it is well worth it.
237. Chances. --
We must live differently in the world, according to
these different assumptions: (1) that we could always remain in it;
(2) that it is certain that we shall not remain here long, and
uncertain if we shall remain here one hour. This last assumption is
our condition.
238. What do you then
promise me, in addition to certain troubles,
but ten years of self-love (for ten years is the chance), to try
hard to please without success?
239. Objection. --
Those who hope for salvation are so far happy;
but they have as a counterpoise the fear of hell.
Reply.- Who has most reason
to fear hell: he who is in ignorance
whether there is a hell, and who is certain of damnation if there
is; or he who certainly believes there is a hell and hopes to be saved
if there is?
240. "I would soon have
renounced pleasure," say they, "had I
faith." For my part I tell you, "You would soon have faith, if you
renounced pleasure." Now, it is for you to begin. If I could, I
would give you faith. I cannot do so, nor therefore test the truth
of what you say. But you can well renounce pleasure and test whether
what I say is true.
241. Order. -- I
would have far more fear of being mistaken, and of finding that the
Christian religion was true, than of not being
mistaken in believing it true.