«Dormire quis nequit nisi sumpla vesperi coena: tenetume jejunare?» [26] And he replies, without softening accents, reservations, or any comment: "Minime." Is it worth demanding something clearer in this case? Here, however, is a decision that is even more affirmative in form; "Dubilo pit expleverim annum vigesimum primumEd. — «Non teneris jejunare». Let us also quote the third quotation: "Dixisti a mortali parvitatem excusare materiae: assigna matenae pawitatem. — «Duarum unciarum, quae est quarta pars collationis». Even if we admit that these questions are of interest only to confessors, then is it really possible to tell a penitent who blames himself for breaking the fast that he did not violate anything, if, unable to fall asleep on an empty stomach, he had supper <the day before>, does not mean to tell him a very definite rule of conduct? As well as to tell him that he has the right to drink wine and even hypocras? [27] So can it be said that Pascal was mistaken when he saw in all this permission and advice to act in a very definite way? With what eyes do we read Escobar if we see something else there? So let us answer, in order not to return to the question of the degree of licentiousness and severity of Escobar's morality, can we understand and accept this casuist differently from the author of The Provincials? No. Whatever may be said about it, the treatises of the casuists were not used only by confessors. And if the most recent proof were required for this thesis, I would draw it from the unequivocal endorsements which have been received by the above-mentioned treatises: "Nose opus — I quote verbatim from a bishop presenting to readers Sanchez's famous work De main-toto — "hoc opus dignissimum censeo quod non solum pm communi scholae utilitate in hicem prodeat, typisque quam dlissime mandetur, verum eliam quod omnium oculis ac manibus continue versetw."

Let's continue with Pascal's acquittal. Another reproach is also brought against him: he blames the entire Society of Jesus for the views of the casuists of that Society, that the highest hierarchs of the Order really had time to read everything that was written by their brethren in all parts of the world! As if the immoderation — they even say extravagance — of some rank-and-file members, established on the basis of events that took place in some Italian monastery, could oblige and, above all, compromise a greater organization! The answer here is more than simple. If the Jesuits do not renounce the glory of their Society, they have no possibility of renouncing the bond of solidarity which binds them to those authors whom they have not publicly renounced. Suárez and Sánchez, Vázquez and Escobar, Lessius and Lugo, Molina and Valencia—are they not the "glory" of the Society, are they not its full-time "theologians" and, therefore, "authorities" on moral matters? We must put an end to this sophism. In the Compendium theologiae moralis of the Jesuit Fr. Gyry, enlarged and corrected by Fr. Dumas, also by a Jesuit, and dated 1881, Escobar and Lamy are characterized as respectable authors, as well as Enríquez and Reginald. For Lyman or Lessia, there are simply no words to give them the praise they deserve. Is this what they say about people whose actions are disapproved? Is it permissible for the Jesuits to talk about the shortcomings or oddities of those whom they continue to extol even after two hundred and fifty or three hundred years? And was Pascal not right in placing on the whole Society the responsibility for the opinions of its "classics," from whose casuistry, as one cannot fail to notice, the Jesuits have always borrowed principles, methods, and solutions?

Much less did he sin against justice by imputing these views only to the Jesuits, and mentioning them alone in his, if I may so express it, accusatory speech against casuistry. Nevertheless, it is here that the basis of an important argument of Fathers Nue and Anna, quoted in their Answers to the Provincialia, as well as of Fr. Daniel, who resorts to a similar means in his Discourses of Cleander and Eudoxus. Not long ago the same argument was one of the arguments of M. J. Bertrand in his curious essay on the Provincials. If Caramuel or Diana, who were by no means Jesuits, raised only a little less "nice questions" than Escobar or Father Boni, then it is surprising why Pascal does not extend his judgments on the morality and politics of the Jesuits to the morality and politics of the Theatines or Benedictines. And this is not only surprising, but is regarded as almost a crime of Pascal[28]. After all, it would be a miracle if Luis López or Tomás Mercado, who are said to be Jacobins, suddenly found solutions that were inferior in scandalous sophistication to those invented by Vasquez or Lessius. However, in order to undermine the authority of the Provincials in this way, they only belittle the importance of the very questions discussed by Pascal and reduce to the scale of a school or, rather, shop rivalry, which always seems too simple, the controversy in which the genius of the author of the Provincials convincingly points to the real subject, to morality as a whole. In this way one is likened to that Medici, the ecclesiastical hierarch, who at one time, from the height of his Vatican, also saw only the "squabbles of the monks" in a memorable dispute, from which began the troubles within the Church, which soon divided the Catholic world into two parts.

Is it really worth attaching importance to the fact that there were casuists dressed in the most diverse clothes and colors? that among them were "barefooted" and "hood-wearing" <see p. 298 of the present day. t. — OH>; that they could be found even among the Jansenists, if no Order, no ecclesiastical community, had in its ranks more numerous, more accommodating, and indeed more famous theologians of this type than the Society of Jesus? If the Jesuits saw better than anyone else the advantage to be derived from casuistry, not only for the guidance or dominion of the conscience, but also for the inclination of religion itself in the direction they desired? If these "janissaries of the Catholic Church" (by such a name they were supposed to be glorified) alone managed to transform the latter into a political means, a military weapon, an instrument of kingship? We have before us a fact which must be seen, and which cannot be seen without going back to the origins of the Society of Jesus (or a little further) and to the age of the Reformation.

Then, in 1656, European reality was characterized by a continuous crisis, which for a century and a half affected morality and religion. One of the episodes, or vicissitudes of this crisis, was Jansenism, chronologically located between the era of the reform of the sixteenth century and the era of philosophy of the fifteenth century. It was a question of the future of religion itself, which was simultaneously attacked from all sides by both secular princes and humanists (Henry. VIII and Erasmus); externally confronted with all the fury of the people's wrath against church rule; shaken from within, as Bossuet said in his History of Change, by its own disorder. Will it continue to retain its power gained through medieval fantasy? Will it be possible to save the remnants of Christian morality from final destruction? It was this problem that Luther tried to solve. And if political necessity, the passions aroused by him and transmitted to his supporters, his own weakness, finally proved to be too inseparably linked with his reform, Calvin partially succeeded in Geneva. It was absolutely necessary for the Church to clarify all this in the end. And, according to the generally accepted opinion, precisely in order to try to transform herself "both in head and in members," she resorted as a last resort to the Council of Trent. It is well known what part the Jesuits played here, as well as in the Counter-Reformation movement in general, which, although it did not return either Germany or England to the bosom of Catholicism, but perhaps prevented Austria and France from converting to Protestantism. None of the historians has ever ignored either the significance or the extent of the role played by the Jesuits, and Pascal himself, recalling it, eloquently contrasts at the end of the thirteenth Provincisha with the former deeds, the original policy, and the Christian strictness of the primitive way of life, which were once characteristic of the Society, the "unbridled teaching" professed by the Jesuits later. "I may perhaps speak to you some day of this, my fathers, and then men will be amazed to see how far you have deviated from the original spirit of your institution, and that your own generals have foreseen that the licentiousness of your moral doctrine might be fatal, not only to your Society, but to the universal Church." The epoch of these changes in Jesuit policy seems to be associated with the generalship of Acquaviva, as well as with the publication of Molina's book Liberi arbitrii gratiae donis concordia, and with the teaching of Lessius at Louvain.

But what really happened? Yes, in fact, nothing, except one deeply inherent and quite natural thing in human nature. Neither Luther and Calvin, nor the papacy and the Jesuits, were able to bring human life to the Gospel ideal, and the worldly spirit triumphed over the divine spirit. A new society was born, rising day by day, not yet literally atheistic and not even characterized by a clearly expressed unbelief, but already saturated with libertinage, indifferent to religion and completely secular. In order for it to continue to be called Christian, and for religion to continue to be given its due, even as an external cult, it was necessary to give it a lighter Christianity. In particular, it was necessary to ensure that in the name of Christianity this society was not preached morality, the principles of which would force the layman to choose between <secular> morality and Christianity. This is what the Jesuits understood when they turned casuistry into a means of reconciling the demands of Christian morality with the secular way of life, and the relaxation of the severity of this morality – which was undoubtedly justified by the magnitude of the goal – into a means of salvation that in religion could still be saved. The texts are categorical on this point: "Those who complain about the many different decisions offered by doctors regarding the right action in this or that life situation are very wrong," writes Escobar in the Preamble to his great Moral Theology, "are very wrong! These persons should rather rejoice at this circumstance, seeing in it so many new reasons for consolation and hope. For the difference of opinion concerning morality is the yoke of the Lord, made easy and pleasant[35] — Ex opinionttm varietate, jugum Christi suavius deportatur." And further, in a manner that is considered ironic and almost Voltairian, although the true character of his virtue, sincerity and piety is unknown to us, Escobar declares: "Providence, in its infinite goodness, has willed that there should be various means to extricate itself from moral conflicts and to make the paths of virtue broad, patescere, in order to confirm the words of the Psalmist:,; Vias turn, Domine, demonstra mihi[36]». Such is the last word of probabilism, and such is the last degree of abuse inherent in the teaching, as Pascal says, of "their" Molina. Yet some souls (I cannot refrain from calling them purer or nobler, but certainly less political and less appreciative of the benefits which would be derived from the reconciliation of the Church with the world, if it were to be achieved to the detriment of the purity of Christianity) were silently indignant, and could not and would not see in such servile teachings anything but a renewed Pelagianism and a direct (prochain) corruption of morality. It is here that the source of Jansenism lies. To these die-hard Christians, ambivalence was unacceptable. They did not allow human freedom, which makes grace useless, and elevates itself to the rank of the sole and authorized arbiter of its own destinies. But to an even greater extent they did not allow the weakening of the practical requirements for virtuous behavior and the exclusion from the very idea of the latter of the two concepts that determine it: human effort and the need for the assistance of heavenly grace.

Need I deliberately emphasize that it is here that the real foundation of the Provincials is to be found, which is equally the foundation of the Mfrtaieui Thus, there is no greater childishness than to attempt to divide Pascal — as is sometimes the case even today — and, rejecting the Provinciapia, to try to preserve in the memory of his Thoughts. "The horrible face of his Gospel," according to Bossuet's energetic expression, was what Pascal intended to illuminate both in Thoughts and in the Provincials. And whatever the Church may say on the subject, it is to the credit of Jansenism that it has never shown any desire to enter into deals with light, but has built the whole edifice of morality on the basis of the victory of grace over lust.

But if it now turns out that this decomposition and alteration of the Gospel was the work of the Jesuits, then to whom else but the last should Pascal have addressed his reproaches? The ufosa of effective grace and purity of morality did not come from the private opinions or views of Caramuzle or Diana, taken separately. The source of this danger was Molinism, Probabilism, and, in the eyes of Pascal as well as in the eyes of the author Augustine, the open and obvious support which these teachings meet with among the theologians of the Society of Jesus. Thus the situation in which Pascal is reproached for attacks directed chiefly against the Jesuits (as if the Jesuits alone were to blame for everything) is in fact reminiscent of the situation in which the object of reproach was that which he had seen from the outset and freed from the burden of the empty quibbles and subterfuges engendered by someone's clever policy in order to confuse him, the real and only important question. the question of what Christian virtue consists of and what it consists of. In fact, it was complained that he got the situation right and declared, "No! The path of salvation is not wide! [39] No! Your merits are not enough to justify yourself before God! No! You no longer have the right to reconcile the gospel and the light (monde), just as you have no right to reconcile reason and faith!" One should only try to look down on things like him. A few incorrect or truncated quotations, if any, are not at all sufficient to obtain a weapon against him in a question which touches almost the whole content of religion and the most sublime subjects of morality. And if we are to dot the i's, I do not understand how the Jesuits, complaining that it was against them that he directed the mighty pressure of his dialectics and eloquence, can forget that they would not have been what they had become in the history of the Church if, in particular, they had not been struck by such a dangerous opponent.

Does this show that we are always against the Jesuits, always on the side of Pascal? Of course not. The Jesuits may, I think, justifiably reproach the author of the Provincials, for example, with his denial of belonging to Port-Royal, and of any connection whatsoever with the Jansenisgians, which is characteristic of the whole controversy. It must be admitted that it is impossible to reread the beginning of the seventeenth Letter without some awkwardness: "So you seriously, my father, recognize me as a heretic... So I ask what evidence you have... First, you assume that "the author of the Letters is a member of Port-Royal." Then you say that "Port-Royal is declared heretical": from this you conclude that "the author of the Letters is recognized as a heretic." Consequently, my father, the whole weight of this accusation does not fall on me, but on Port-Royal, and you bring it against me only because you suppose that I am from Port-Royal. It will not be difficult for me to justify myself, for it is enough to say that I am not from Port-Royal and to point to my Letters, where I said that 'I am alone' and plainly that 'I am not from Port-Royal'. When Voltaire thus turns his own weapons against his opponents, this act can only be regarded as a clever manoeuvre. But I would never have used the same excuse to smooth over the ambiguity to which Pascal had the error of resorting—after all, he himself had made us more scrupulous of him.

Nor am I more impressed by the acquittal of the Bishop of Ypres at the beginning of the sixteenth Letter by the author of the Provincials from the accusations of dishonesty reasonably addressed to him. It is the money of the College of Louvain, part of which Jansenius thought fit to use for the maintenance of M. de Barcos, the nephew of his personal friend Saint-Cyran. But such are the pitfalls of polemics. According to its rules, nothing should go unanswered; all the objections of opponents should be destroyed one by one; it is necessary to divide, to distinguish, to bring to subtleties. And there is absolutely nothing wrong in this, for the enemy would have triumphed too loudly in view of our silence, but there is no more truth in it. Even the best of us are still people. And if, of course, Jansenius had done the right thing to find funds for M. Barcot from sources other than the Louvain College, Pascal would have done better either by keeping silent about the event or, if it has been said, by giving it a proper appraisal.

It is equally indisputable that the Jesuits must be admitted to be right more than once. In particular, it is unacceptable what Pascal speaks of the duel in the thirteenth and seventh letters,[42] nor the strange confusion he makes in the fourth letter,[43] between the "sin of ignorance" and the sin of habit. His dialectics here looks, so to speak, infected with the dialectics of his opponents. Read carefully the beginning of the thirteenth Letter[44]. Is it not true that under the general term "homicide" Pascal deliberately confused three aspects that are considered in both morality and jurisprudence as fairly independent cases: assassinat, deprivation of life (meurtre), and duel? Yes, of course, in Pascal's broadcast, Escobar and Lessius do teach that "the opinion that one can kill for a slap in the face is probably in speculation." The second of the authors just mentioned states verbatim that "he who receives a slap in the face is considered dishonored until he kills the one who inflicted it." However, what neither one nor the other teaches is the permissibility of "hired killing" for a slap in the face – I mean situations when one avenges oneself treacherously, from an ambush or unexpectedly. It seems to Pascal that this is what the above-mentioned casuists are talking about. In neither the thirteenth nor the seventh Letter do we really find a single word about the equal degree of risk or equal chance implied by the very definition of a duel, which allows you to take life only when you risk yourself. But what Lessius and Escobar allow, or rather excuse, justify from sin, in certain cases, is not to be understood simply as the taking of life, or even as a veshktta, but as a duel, a duel, a fair fight (guerre) in the end. And it is permissible to think that by defending the Non ocddes of the Decalogue against the above-mentioned authors, and by not referring here to any distinctions or divisions, Pascal goes beyond the real question and deviates from it.

Similarly, Pascal is mistaken in the Fourth Letter[47] when he reproaches Fr. Boni for proclaiming the following principle; "In order to commit a sin and be guilty before God, you must realize that you are going to commit an unworthy act, or at least doubt..." Whether it is a question of fasting, of which so much is said in the fifth letter, or of hearing the mass, how can I transgress the commandments of the church if I do not know them at all? Pascal here very cleverly attacks those of our sins which are vices or crimes, which are considered as such both in China and in Rome, and will be considered as such at all times, such as theft or debauchery. But does he not forget that every religion condemns other sins, so to speak, artificially created, such as not celebrating the Sabbath or engaging in any activity on Sunday, as well as heresy and sacrilege? Moreover, it is these sins that are condemned more severely than others. In order to make them, it is necessary, at least, to know about their existence. Excusatur a crimine qut in die jejunii cames comedit, nihil cogitans de jejunio[49] — here Escobar is right. Let us go further: he is right even when he makes a decision that allows him to drink wine and even hypokrass without breaking the fast. Because. After all, the rule that prescribes fasting is established by the Church and, therefore, is entirely within the Church's competence only to determine what fasting consists of and what can be "drunk" or "eaten" without violating it.

However, here comes the last reproach that we will venture to address to Pascal. If Escobar's morality is certainly too lenient, Pascal's own morality is too harsh and intolerant. It is not that the Provincials require of man an effort beyond our capacity, but the nature of these demands and their fulfillment still do not agree well with what I call the course of life. In order to bind ourselves, as Pascal demands, "exclusively and unchangeably" to God, we would have to devote ourselves, like our author, to hermitage, retiring for a long time to Port-Royal. We would not have any duties that would keep us in the company of other people, we should not be a citizen, nor a husband, nor a father, we would be forbidden to have a profession, to do business. That is, in the end, we should enjoy some benefits that are real for some of us only if other people accept the lack of such benefits in themselves. Let us call a spade a spade: strict in terms of its own principles, Pascal's morality in practical application turns out to be ascetic. Undoubtedly, it is precisely this circumstance that makes it beautiful, elevates it above the morality of casuists, and even the very name of the latter seems to be forever discredited by Pascal. But this same circumstance makes it so difficult to implement in practice. If the Jesuits (or casuists in general) excessively expanded the ways of salvation, then one may wonder whether Pascal does not unjustifiably narrow these paths, whether he does not "increase the weight of the Gospel" too much, wishing to enslave the conscience of Christians with too unjustified strictness. One can ask oneself such a question, if only because Bossuet was thinking and speaking about the same thing.

Be that as it may, however, it is precisely this asceticism that completes the proof, if it is still necessary, of Pascal's passionate sincerity. In the solution of the great question, which kept the minds of that time in anxiety and expectation, he took an extreme position. Just as it was impossible for the author of the Thoughts to reconcile faith and reason <cf. p. 515 of the present day). t. — OH>, so the author Provgaschiay did not see any prospects for at least some reconciliation of casuistry and morality. You have to choose. On the one hand, the law of Christ, on the other, the law of nature; on the one hand, the righteous, on the other, the libertines, the indifferent, the atheists; Jansenism or Cartesianism (we say "rationalism" today); religion or secular society. But what Pascal really does not allow is the adaptation of these oppositions to each other. Read the passage entitled A Comparison of the First Christians with the Present Ones (apparently it was written a year or two earlier than the Provincials): "<... > the first Christians had to leave the world in order to be received into the church, whereas in our age they enter the church at the same time as they enter the world. Thanks to this order, an essential distinction was made between the world and the church; They were considered opposites, two irreconcilable enemies who constantly pursued each other <... > People <... > rejected the laws of one for the sake of the laws of another; they put off thoughts befitting one in order to clothe themselves with thoughts corresponding to another <... > in former times there was a significant difference between the Church and the world <... > Approach the sacraments and enjoy the pleasures of this world <... >Now it is a most common phenomenon that the Christian heart is full of secular vices," etc. If the Jesuits were for Pascal, as for every Jansenist, the authors of the described "confusion of the Church with the world," could there really be anything more natural for him than the desire to direct his main efforts against these Fathers? If Pascal's aim was to separate the Church and the world, who does not understand that there was no better and more legitimate means for its realization than the one to which he resorted? And, if we have understood Pascal well, is it not obvious that the criticism of the accuracy of some of the quotations he has quoted, which has lasted for two and a half centuries, has brought him neither benefit nor loss? Now it remains for me only to see whether he has achieved his goal and what were the historical consequences of the Provincials.