Pascal's Pensées
We view things not only from different sides, but with different eyes;
we have no wish to find them alike.
125
_Contraries._--Man is naturally credulous and incredulous, timid and
rash.
126
Description of man: dependency, desire of independence, need.
127
Condition of man: inconstancy, weariness, unrest.
128
The weariness which is felt by us in leaving pursuits to which we are
attached. A man dwells at home with pleasure; but if he sees a woman who
charms him, or if he enjoys himself in play for five or six days, he is
miserable if he returns to his former way of living. Nothing is more
common than that.
129
Our nature consists in motion; complete rest is death.[65]
130
_Restlessness._--If a soldier, or labourer, complain of the hardship of
his lot, set him to do nothing.
131
_Weariness._[66]--Nothing is so insufferable to man as to be completely
at rest, without passions, without business, without diversion, without
study. He then feels his nothingness, his forlornness, his
insufficiency, his dependence, his weakness, his emptiness. There will
immediately arise from the depth of his heart weariness, gloom, sadness,
fretfulness, vexation, despair.
132
Methinks Cæsar was too old to set about amusing himself with conquering
the world.[67] Such sport was good for Augustus or Alexander. They were
still young men, and thus difficult to restrain. But Cæsar should have
been more mature.
133
Two faces which resemble each other, make us laugh, when together, by
their resemblance, though neither of them by itself makes us laugh.
134
How useless is painting, which attracts admiration by the resemblance of
things, the originals of which we do not admire!
135
The struggle alone pleases us, not the victory. We love to see animals
fighting, not the victor infuriated over the vanquished. We would only
see the victorious end; and, as soon as it comes, we are satiated. It is
the same in play, and the same in the search for truth. In disputes we
like to see the clash of opinions, but not at all to contemplate truth
when found. To observe it with pleasure, we have to see it emerge out of
strife. So in the passions, there is pleasure in seeing the collision of
two contraries; but when one acquires the mastery, it becomes only
brutality. We never seek things for themselves, but for the search.
Likewise in plays, scenes which do not rouse the emotion of fear are
worthless, so are extreme and hopeless misery, brutal lust, and extreme
cruelty.
136
A mere trifle consoles us, for a mere trifle distresses us.[68]
137
Without examining every particular pursuit, it is enough to comprehend
them under diversion.
138
Men naturally slaters and of all callings, save in their own rooms.
139
_Diversion._--When I have occasionally set myself to consider the
different distractions of men, the pains and perils to which they expose
themselves at court or in war, whence arise so many quarrels, passions,
bold and often bad ventures, etc., I have discovered that all the
unhappiness of men arises from one single fact, that they cannot stay
quietly in their own chamber. A man who has enough to live on, if he
knew how to stay with pleasure at home, would not leave it to go to sea
or to besiege a town. A commission in the army would not be bought so
dearly, but that it is found insufferable not to budge from the town;
and men only seek conversation and entering games, because they cannot
remain with pleasure at home.
But on further consideration, when, after finding the cause of all our
ills, I have sought to discover the reason of it, I have found that
there is one very real reason, namely, the natural poverty of our feeble
and mortal condition, so miserable that nothing can comfort us when we
think of it closely.
Whatever condition we picture to ourselves, if we muster all the good
things which it is possible to possess, royalty is the finest position
in the world. Yet, when we imagine a king attended with every pleasure
he can feel, if he be without diversion, and be left to consider and
reflect on what he is, this feeble happiness will not sustain him; he
will necessarily fall into forebodings of dangers, of revolutions which
may happen, and, finally, of death and inevitable disease; so that if he
be without what is called diversion, he is unhappy, and more unhappy
than the least of his subjects who plays and diverts himself.
Hence it comes that play and the society of women, war, and high posts,
are so sought after. Not that there is in fact any happiness in them, or
that men imagine true bliss to consist in money won at play, or in the
hare which they hunt; we would not take these as a gift. We do not seek
that easy and peaceful lot which permits us to think of our unhappy
condition, nor the dangers of war, nor the labour of office, but the
bustle which averts these thoughts of ours, and amuses us.
Reasons why we like the chase better than the quarry.
Hence it comes that men so much love noise and stir; hence it comes that
the prison is so horrible a punishment; hence it comes that the pleasure
of solitude is a thing incomprehensible. And it is in fact the greatest
source of happiness in the condition of kings, that men try incessantly
to divert them, and to procure for them all kinds of pleasures.
The king is surrounded by persons whose only thought is to divert the
king, and to prevent his thinking of self. For he is unhappy, king
though he be, if he think of himself.
This is all that men have been able to discover to make themselves
happy. And those who philosophise on the matter, and who think men
unreasonable for spending a whole day in chasing a hare which they would
not have bought, scarce know our nature. The hare in itself would not
screen us from the sight of death and calamities; but the chase which
turns away our attention from these, does screen us.
The advice given to Pyrrhus to take the rest which he was about to seek
with so much labour, was full of difficulties.[69]
[To bid a man live quietly is to bid him live happily. It is to advise
him to be in a state perfectly happy, in which he can think at leisure
without finding therein a cause of distress. This is to misunderstand
nature.
As men who naturally understand their own condition avoid nothing so
much as rest, so there is nothing they leave undone in seeking turmoil.
Not that they have an instinctive knowledge of true happiness ...
So we are wrong in blaming them. Their error does not lie in seeking
excitement, if they seek it only as a diversion; the evil is that they
seek it as if the possession of the objects of their quest would make
them really happy. In this respect it is right to call their quest a
vain one. Hence in all this both the censurers and the censured do not
understand man's true nature.]
And thus, when we take the exception against them, that what they seek
with such fervour cannot satisfy them, if they replied--as they should
do if they considered the matter thoroughly--that they sought in it only
a violent and impetuous occupation which turned their thoughts from
self, and that they therefore chose an attractive object to charm and
ardently attract them, they would leave their opponents without a
reply. But they do not make this reply, because they do not know
themselves.[70] They do not know that it is the chase, and not the
quarry, which they seek.
Dancing: we must consider rightly where to place our feet.--A gentleman
sincerely believes that hunting is great and royal sport; but a beater
is not of this opinion.
They imagine that if they obtained such a post, they would then rest
with pleasure, and are insensible of the insatiable nature of their
desire. They think they are truly seeking quiet, and they are only
seeking excitement.
They have a secret instinct which impels them to seek amusement and
occupation abroad, and which arises from the sense of their constant
unhappiness. They have another secret instinct, a remnant of the
greatness of our original nature, which teaches them that happiness in
reality consists only in rest, and not in stir. And of these two
contrary instincts they form within themselves a confused idea, which
hides itself from their view in the depths of their soul, inciting them
to aim at rest through excitement, and always to fancy that the
satisfaction which they have not will come to them, if, by surmounting
whatever difficulties confront them, they can thereby open the door to
rest.
Thus passes away all man's life. Men seek rest in a struggle against
difficulties; and when they have conquered these, rest becomes
insufferable. For we think either of the misfortunes we have or of those
which threaten us. And even if we should see ourselves sufficiently
sheltered on all sides, weariness of its own accord would not fail to
arise from the depths of the heart wherein it has its natural roots, and
to fill the mind with its poison.
Thus so wretched is man that he would weary even without any cause for
weariness from the peculiar state of his disposition; and so frivolous
is he, that, though full of a thousand reasons for weariness, the least
thing, such as playing billiards or hitting a ball, is sufficient to
amuse him.
But will you say what object has he in all this? The pleasure of
bragging to-morrow among his friends that he has played better than
another. So others sweat in their own rooms to show to the learned that
they have solved a problem in algebra, which no one had hitherto been
able to solve. Many more expose themselves to extreme perils, in my
opinion as foolishly, in order to boast afterwards that they have
captured a town. Lastly, others wear themselves out in studying all
these things, not in order to become wiser, but only in order to prove
that they know them; and these are the most senseless of the band, since
they are so knowingly, whereas one may suppose of the others, that if
they knew it, they would no longer be foolish.
This man spends his life without weariness in playing every day for a
small stake. Give him each morning the money he can win each day, on
condition he does not play; you make him miserable. It will perhaps be
said that he seeks the amusement of play and not the winnings. Make him
then play for nothing; he will not become excited over it, and will feel
bored. It is then not the amusement alone that he seeks; a languid and
passionless amusement will weary him. He must get excited over it, and
deceive himself by the fancy that he will be happy to win what he would
not have as a gift on condition of not playing; and he must make for
himself an object of passion, and excite over it his desire, his anger,
his fear, to obtain his imagined end, as children are frightened at the
face they have blackened.
Whence comes it that this man, who lost his only son a few months ago,
or who this morning was in such trouble through being distressed by
lawsuits and quarrels, now no longer thinks of them? Do not wonder; he
is quite taken up in looking out for the boar which his dogs have been
hunting so hotly for the last six hours. He requires nothing more.
However full of sadness a man may be, he is happy for the time, if you
can prevail upon him to enter into some amusement; and however happy a
man may be, he will soon be discontented and wretched, if he be not
diverted and occupied by some passion or pursuit which prevents
weariness from overcoming him. Without amusement there is no joy; with
amusement there is no sadness. And this also constitutes the happiness
of persons in high position, that they have a number of people to amuse
them, and have the power to keep themselves in this state.
Consider this. What is it to be superintendent, chancellor, first