Necessity of the Wager

A letter to incite to the search after God.

A letter to encourage the search for God.

And then to make people seek Him among the philosophers, sceptics, and dogmatists, who disquiet him who inquires of them.

And then to make people seek him among the philosophers, skeptics, and dogmatists, who trouble anyone who turns to them for answers.

The conduct of God, who disposes all things kindly, is to put religion into the mind by reason, and into the heart by grace. But to will to put it into the mind and heart by force and threats is not to put religion there, but terror, terorrem potius quam religionem.

God, who orders all things with kindness, places religion in the mind through reason and in the heart through grace. But trying to place it in the mind and heart through force and threats does not bring religion. It brings terror, terorrem potius quam religionem.

Nisi terrerentur et non docerentur, improba quasi dominatio videretur (Aug., Ep. 48 or 49), Contra Mendacium ad Consentium.

Unless they were frightened and not taught, it would seem like unjust domination (Augustine, Letter 48 or 49), Against Lying, to Consentius.

Order.—Men despise religion; they hate it, and fear it is true. To remedy this, we must begin by showing that religion is not contrary to reason; that it is venerable, to inspire respect for it; then we must make it lovable, to make good men hope it is true; finally, we must prove it is true.

Order. People despise religion. They hate it and fear it is true. To remedy this, we must first show that religion is not contrary to reason. We must show that it is worthy of respect, so people will respect it. Then we must make it appealing, so good people will hope it is true. Finally, we must prove that it is true.

Venerable, because it has perfect knowledge of man; lovable, because it promises the true good.

Worthy of respect because it has perfect knowledge of human nature. Worthy of love because it promises the true good.

In every dialogue and discourse, we must be able to say to those who take offence, "Of what do you complain?"

In every conversation and discussion, we must be able to say to those who take offense, "What are you complaining about?"

To begin by pitying unbelievers; they are wretched enough by their condition. We ought only to revile them where it is beneficial; but this does them harm.

Begin by pitying unbelievers. Their condition makes them miserable enough. We should only criticize them harshly when it helps, but this harms them.

To pity atheists who seek, for are they not unhappy enough? To inveigh against those who make a boast of it.

Pity atheists who are searching. Aren't they unhappy enough already? Speak out against those who boast about being atheists.

And will this one scoff at the other? Who ought to scoff? And yet, the latter does not scoff at the other, but pities him.

Will this one mock the other? Who should mock whom? Yet the latter does not mock the other, but pities him.

To reproach Miton⁸⁵ with not being troubled, since God will reproach him.

Reproach Miton⁸⁵ for not being troubled, since God will reproach him.

Quid fiet hominibus qui minima contemnunt, majora non credunt?

What will happen to people who dismiss small things and do not believe in greater ones?

... Let them at least learn what is the religion they attack, before attacking it. If this religion boasted of having a clear view of God, and of possessing it open and unveiled, it would be attacking it to say that we see nothing in the world which shows it with this clearness. But since, on the contrary, it says that men are in darkness and estranged from God, that He has hidden Himself from their knowledge, that this is in fact the name which He gives Himself in the Scriptures, Deus absconditus;⁸⁶ and finally, if it endeavours equally to establish these two things: that God has set up in the Church visible signs to make Himself known to those who should seek Him sincerely, and that He has nevertheless so disguised them that He will only be perceived by those who seek Him with all their heart; what advantage can they obtain, when, in the negligence with which they make profession of being in search of the truth, they cry out that nothing reveals it to them; and since that darkness in which they are, and with which they upbraid the Church, establishes only one of the things which she affirms, without touching the other, and, very far from destroying, proves her doctrine?

... Let them at least learn what the religion they attack teaches before attacking it. Suppose this religion claimed to see God clearly and openly, without any veil. Then they could attack it by saying that nothing in the world reveals him with such clarity. But the religion says the opposite. It says that people are in darkness and separated from God, and that he has hidden himself from their knowledge. In fact, this is the name he gives himself in Scripture, Deus absconditus, the hidden God.⁸⁶ It also seeks to establish two things. God has placed visible signs in the Church to make himself known to those who seek him sincerely. Yet he has also so disguised those signs that only those who seek him with all their heart will perceive him. What do they gain, then, by crying out that nothing reveals the truth to them? They profess to search for it, yet do so carelessly. The darkness they are in, which they use to reproach the Church, establishes only one of its claims. It leaves the other untouched. Far from destroying its doctrine, it proves it.

In order to attack it, they should have protested that they had made every effort to seek Him everywhere, and even in that which the Church proposes for their instruction, but without satisfaction. If they talked in this manner, they would in truth be attacking one of her pretensions. But I hope here to show that no reasonable person can speak thus, and I venture even to say that no one has ever done so. We know well enough how those who are of this mind behave. They believe they have made great efforts for their instruction, when they have spent a few hours in reading some book of Scripture, and have questioned some priest on the truths of the faith. After that, they boast of having made vain search in books and among men. But, verily, I will tell them what I have often said, that this negligence is insufferable. We are not here concerned with the trifling interests of some stranger, that we should treat it in this fashion; the matter concerns ourselves and our all.

To challenge it, they should say they have made every effort to seek him everywhere. They should say they have even searched what the Church offers to guide them, but found no satisfaction. If they spoke this way, they would truly challenge one of the Church’s claims. But I hope to show here that no reasonable person can say this. I even venture to say that no one has ever done so. We know well enough how people with this attitude behave. They think they have made great efforts to learn about the faith. Yet they have spent only a few hours reading a book of Scripture and questioning a priest about its truths. After that, they boast that they have searched books and questioned people in vain. But I will tell them what I have often said: this negligence is unbearable. We are not dealing with the trivial interests of a stranger, which we might treat this way. The matter concerns us and everything we have.

The immortality of the soul is a matter which is of so great consequence to us, and which touches us so profoundly, that we must have lost all feeling to be indifferent as to knowing what it is. All our actions and thoughts must take such different courses, according as there are or are not eternal joys to hope for, that it is impossible to take one step with sense and judgment, unless we regulate our course by our view of this point which ought to be our ultimate end.

Whether the soul is immortal matters greatly to us and affects us deeply. We must have lost all feeling to be indifferent to the answer. All our actions and thoughts must follow very different courses depending on whether we can hope for eternal joys. We cannot take a single sensible, well-judged step unless we guide our course by our view of this question. It should be our ultimate concern.

Thus our first interest and our first duty is to enlighten ourselves on this subject, whereon depends all our conduct. Therefore among those who do not believe, I make a vast difference between those who strive with all their power to inform themselves, and those who live without troubling or thinking about it.

So our first concern and duty is to learn about this subject, because all our conduct depends on it. Among those who do not believe, I see a vast difference. Some try with all their strength to learn about it. Others live without worrying or thinking about it.

I can have only compassion for those who sincerely bewail their doubt, who regard it as the greatest of misfortunes, and who, sparing no effort to escape it, make of this inquiry their principal and most serious occupations.

I can only feel compassion for those who sincerely grieve over their doubt. They see it as the greatest of misfortunes. They spare no effort to escape it, making this inquiry their main and most serious pursuit.

But as for those who pass their life without thinking of this ultimate end of life, and who, for this sole reason that they do not find within themselves the lights which convince them of it, neglect to seek them elsewhere, and to examine thoroughly whether this opinion is one of those which people receive with credulous simplicity, or one of those which, although obscure in themselves, have nevertheless a solid and immovable foundation, I look upon them in a manner quite different.

But I see those who spend their lives without thinking about this ultimate end of life quite differently. They find nothing within themselves to convince them of it, and for this reason alone, they neglect to look elsewhere. They do not carefully examine whether this belief is accepted out of simple credulity. Nor do they consider whether, though obscure in itself, it has a solid and unshakable foundation.

This carelessness in a matter which concerns themselves, their eternity, their all, moves me more to anger than pity; it astonishes and shocks me; it is to me monstrous. I do not say this out of the pious zeal of a spiritual devotion. I expect, on the contrary, that we ought to have this feeling from principles of human interest and self-love; for this we need only see what the least enlightened persons see.

This carelessness about something that concerns them, their eternity, their all, makes me more angry than sorry for them. It astonishes and shocks me. To me, it is monstrous. I do not say this out of religious zeal or spiritual devotion. On the contrary, I believe we should feel this way out of human self-interest and self-love. We need only see what even the least enlightened people see.

We do not require great education of the mind to understand that here is no real and lasting satisfaction; that our pleasures are only vanity; that our evils are infinite; and, lastly, that death, which threatens us every moment, must infallibly place us within a few years under the dreadful necessity of being for ever either annihilated or unhappy.

We do not need a great education to understand that there is no real or lasting satisfaction here. Our pleasures are only vanity, and our sufferings are endless. Finally, death threatens us every moment. Within a few years, it will surely leave us facing a dreadful fate: either to cease to exist or to be unhappy forever.

There is nothing more real than this, nothing more terrible. Be we as heroic as we like, that is the end which awaits the noblest life in the world. Let us reflect on this, and then say whether it is not beyond doubt that there is no good in this life but in the hope of another; that we are happy only in proportion as we draw near it; and that, as there are no more woes for those who have complete assurance of eternity, so there is no more happiness for those who have no insight into it.

Nothing is more real than this, and nothing is more terrible. However heroic we may be, this is the end that awaits even the noblest life in the world. Let us reflect on this. Then let us ask whether there can be any doubt that the only good in this life is the hope of another. We are happy only to the extent that we draw near to it. Those who are completely certain of eternity have no more sorrows. Likewise, those who have no understanding of it have no more happiness.

Surely then it is a great evil thus to be in doubt, but it is at least an indispensable duty to seek when we are in such doubt; and thus the doubter who does not seek is altogether completely unhappy and completely wrong. And if besides this he is easy and content, professes to be so, and indeed boasts of it; if it is this state itself which is the subject of his joy and vanity, I have no words to describe so silly a creature.

Surely, being in such doubt is a great evil. But when we are in doubt, we have an essential duty to seek. A doubter who does not seek is therefore completely unhappy and completely wrong. And suppose he is also at ease and content, says so, and even boasts about it. If this very state is the source of his joy and pride, I have no words to describe so foolish a creature.

How can people hold these opinions? What joy can we find in the expectation of nothing but hopeless misery? What reason for boasting that we are in impenetrable darkness? And how can it happen that the following argument occurs to a reasonable man?

How can people hold these views? What joy can we find in expecting nothing but hopeless misery? Why boast that we are in complete darkness? And how can a reasonable person come up with the following argument?

"I know not who put me into the world, nor what the world is, nor what I myself am. I am in terrible ignorance of everything. I know not what my body is, nor my senses, nor my soul, not even that part of me which thinks what I say, which reflects on all and on itself, and knows itself no more than the rest. I see those frightful spaces of the universe which surround me, and I find myself tied to one corner of this vast expanse, without knowing why I am put in this place rather than in another, nor why the short time which is given me to live is assigned to me at this point rather than at another of the whole eternity which was before me or which shall come after me. I see nothing but infinites on all sides, which surround me as an atom, and as a shadow which endures only for an instant and returns no more. All I know is that I must soon die, but what I know least is this very death which I cannot escape.

I do not know who put me into the world, what the world is, or what I myself am. I am terribly ignorant of everything. I do not know what my body, my senses, or my soul are. I do not even know the part of me that thinks what I say. It reflects on everything and on itself, yet knows itself no better than it knows anything else. I see the frightening spaces of the universe around me. I find myself bound to one corner of this vast expanse. I do not know why I was put here rather than somewhere else. Nor do I know why my short life was assigned to this moment rather than another. An eternity lay before me, and an eternity will come after me. I see nothing but infinity on every side. It surrounds me like an atom, like a shadow that lasts only an instant and never returns. All I know is that I must soon die. Yet the thing I know least about is this very death that I cannot escape.

"As I know not whence I come, so I know not whither I go. I know only that, in leaving this world, I fall for ever either into annihilation or into the hands of an angry God, without knowing to which of these two states I shall be for ever assigned. Such is my state, full of weakness and uncertainty. And from all this I conclude that I ought to spend all the days of my life without caring to inquire into what must happen to me. Perhaps I might find some solution to my doubts, but I will not take the trouble, nor take a step to seek it; and after treating with scorn those who are concerned with this care, I will go without foresight and without fear to try the great event, and let myself be led carelessly to death, uncertain of the eternity of my future state."

I do not know where I come from or where I am going. I know only that when I leave this world, I will fall forever into either nothingness or the hands of an angry God. I do not know which of these two states will be mine forever. Such is my condition, full of weakness and uncertainty. From all this, I conclude that I should spend all the days of my life without caring to ask what will happen to me. Perhaps I could find an answer to my doubts. But I will not take the trouble or make any effort to look for one. I will scorn those who are concerned about this question. Then, without thinking ahead or feeling afraid, I will go to meet the great event. I will let myself be led carelessly to death, uncertain of what my eternal future holds.

Who would desire to have for a friend a man who talks in this fashion? Who would choose him out from others to tell him of his affairs? Who would have recourse to him in affliction? And indeed to what use in life could one put him?

Who would want a friend who talks this way? Who would choose him over others to confide in? Who would turn to him in times of trouble? Indeed, what use could anyone have for him in life?

In truth, it is the glory of religion to have for enemies men so unreasonable: and their opposition to it is so little dangerous that it serves on the contrary to establish its truths. For the Christian faith goes mainly to establish these two facts, the corruption of nature, and redemption by Jesus Christ. Now I contend that if these men do not serve to prove the truth of the redemption by the holiness of their behaviour, they at least serve admirably to show the corruption of nature by sentiments so unnatural.

In truth, it is to religion’s credit that such unreasonable men are its enemies. Their opposition is so far from dangerous that it actually helps establish religion’s truths. For the Christian faith is mainly concerned with establishing two facts: the corruption of human nature and redemption through Jesus Christ. These men do not help prove the truth of redemption through the holiness of their behavior. But I maintain that their unnatural attitudes at least show the corruption of human nature remarkably well.

Nothing is so important to man as his own state, nothing is so formidable to him as eternity; and thus it is not natural that there should be men indifferent to the loss of their existence, and to the perils of everlasting suffering. They are quite different with regard to all other things. They are afraid of mere trifles; they foresee them; they feel them. And this same man who spends so many days and nights in rage and despair for the loss of office, or for some imaginary insult to his honour, is the very one who knows without anxiety and without emotion that he will lose all by death. It is a monstrous thing to see in the same heart and at the same time this sensibility to trifles and this strange insensibility to the greatest objects. It is an incomprehensible enchantment, and a supernatural slumber, which indicates as its cause an all-powerful force.

Nothing matters more to a person than their own condition, and nothing is more frightening than eternity. So it is unnatural for people to be indifferent to losing their existence and facing the dangers of eternal suffering. They are quite different when it comes to everything else. They fear the smallest things. They anticipate them and feel them deeply. Yet the same person may spend days and nights in rage and despair over losing a position or suffering some imagined insult to their honor. That person knows, without anxiety or emotion, that death will take everything away. It is monstrous to see such sensitivity to small things and such strange indifference to the greatest matters in the same heart, at the same time. It is an incomprehensible spell, a supernatural sleep that points to an all-powerful force as its cause.

There must be a strange confusion in the nature of man, that he should boast of being in that state in which it seems incredible that a single individual should be. However, experience has shown me so great a number of such persons that the fact would be surprising, if we did not know that the greater part of those who trouble themselves about the matter are disingenuous, and not in fact what they say. They are people who have heard it said that it is the fashion to be thus daring. It is what they call shaking off the yoke, and they try to imitate this. But it would not be difficult to make them understand how greatly they deceive themselves in thus seeking esteem. This is not the way to gain it, even I say among those men of the world who take a healthy view of things, and who know that the only way to succeed in this life is to make ourselves appear honourable, faithful, judicious, and capable of useful service to a friend; because naturally men love only what may be useful to them. Now, what do we gain by hearing it said of a man that he has now thrown off the yoke, that he does not believe there is a God who watches our actions, that he considers himself the sole master of his conduct, and that he thinks he is accountable for it only to himself? Does he think that he has thus brought us to have henceforth complete confidence in him, and to look to him for consolation, advice, and help in every need of life? Do they profess to have delighted us by telling us that they hold our soul to be only a little wind and smoke, especially by telling us this in a haughty and self-satisfied tone of voice? Is this a thing to say gaily? Is it not, on the contrary, a thing to say sadly, as the saddest thing in the world?

There must be a strange confusion in human nature. People boast of being in a state that seems incredible for even one person to be in. Yet experience has shown me so many such people that I would be surprised by their number. But we know that most people who concern themselves with this matter are not sincere. They are not really what they claim to be. They have heard that it is fashionable to be so daring. They call it throwing off the yoke, and they try to do the same. It would not be hard to show them how wrong they are to seek respect this way. It is not the way to gain it, even among worldly people who see things clearly. Such people know that the only way to succeed in this life is to appear honorable, trustworthy, sensible, and able to help a friend. After all, people naturally love only what may be useful to them. What do we gain by hearing that a man has thrown off the yoke? He does not believe there is a God who watches our actions. He considers himself the sole master of his conduct. He thinks he is accountable only to himself. Does he think this makes us trust him completely from now on? Does he think we will turn to him for comfort, advice, and help whenever we need them? Do such people claim to have delighted us by saying that our soul is only a little wind and smoke? Do they think it delights us especially when they say it in a proud, self-satisfied tone? Is this something to say cheerfully? On the contrary, should it not be said sadly, as the saddest thing in the world?

If they thought of it seriously, they would see that this is so bad a mistake, so contrary to good sense, so opposed to decency and so removed in every respect from that good breeding which they seek, that they would be more likely to correct than to pervert those who had an inclination to follow them. And indeed, make them give an account of their opinions, and of the reasons which they have for doubting religion, and they will say to you things so feeble and so petty, that they will persuade you of the contrary. The following is what a person one day said to such a one very appositely: "If you continue to talk in this manner, you will really make me religious." And he was right, for who would not have a horror of holding opinions in which he would have such contemptible persons as companions!

If they thought about it seriously, they would see how badly mistaken they are. Their mistake is contrary to good sense and decency. It is also completely at odds with the good manners they seek. They would be more likely to correct than mislead those inclined to follow them. Indeed, ask them to explain their views and their reasons for doubting religion. Their answers will be so weak and petty that they will convince you of the opposite. One day, someone aptly said to such a person, "If you keep talking like this, you will actually make me religious." He was right. Who would not be horrified to hold opinions shared by such contemptible people?

Thus those who only feign these opinions would be very unhappy, if they restrained their natural feelings in order to make themselves the most conceited of men. If, at the bottom of their heart, they are troubled at not having more light, let them not disguise the fact; this avowal will not be shameful. The only shame is to have none. Nothing reveals more an extreme weakness of mind than not to know the misery of a godless man. Nothing is more indicative of a bad disposition of heart than not to desire the truth of eternal promises. Nothing is more dastardly than to act with bravado before God. Let them then leave these impieties to those who are sufficiently ill-bred to be really capable of them. Let them at least be honest men, if they cannot be Christians. Finally, let them recognise that there are two kinds of people one can call reasonable; those who serve God with all their heart because they know Him, and those who seek Him with all their heart because they do not know Him.

Those who only pretend to hold these opinions would be very unhappy if they suppressed their natural feelings just to become the most conceited of men. If, deep down, they are troubled by not having more light, they should not hide it. There is no shame in admitting this. The only shame is in feeling no such trouble. Nothing shows a weaker mind than failing to recognize the misery of a person without God. Nothing shows a worse disposition of heart than not wanting the eternal promises to be true. Nothing is more cowardly than acting defiant before God. Let them leave such impiety to those who are truly capable of it because they are so badly brought up. If they cannot be Christians, let them at least be honest people. Finally, let them recognize that there are two kinds of people who can be called reasonable. Some serve God with all their heart because they know him. Others seek him with all their heart because they do not know him.

But as for those who live without knowing Him and without seeking Him, they judge themselves so little worthy of their own care, that they are not worthy of the care of others; and it needs all the charity of the religion which they despise, not to despise them even to the point of leaving them to their folly. But because this religion obliges us always to regard them, so long as they are in this life, as capable of the grace which can enlighten them, and to believe that they may, in a little time, be more replenished with faith than we are, and that, on the other hand, we may fall into the blindness wherein they are, we must do for them what we would they should do for us if we were in their place, and call upon them to have pity upon themselves, and to take at least some steps in the endeavour to find light. Let them give to reading this some of the hours which they otherwise employ so uselessly; whatever aversion they may bring to the task, they will perhaps gain something, and at least will not lose much. But as for those who bring to the task perfect sincerity and a real desire to meet with truth, those I hope will be satisfied and convinced of the proofs of a religion so divine, which I have here collected, and in which I have followed somewhat after this order ...

As for those who live without knowing him and without seeking him, they consider themselves scarcely worthy of their own care. So they are not worthy of the care of others. It takes all the charity of the religion they despise to keep us from despising them so much that we abandon them to their folly. But this religion requires us to regard them, as long as they live, as capable of receiving the grace that can enlighten them. It also requires us to believe that they may soon be filled with more faith than we have. We, on the other hand, may fall into the same blindness they are in. So we must do for them what we would want them to do for us in their place. We must urge them to take pity on themselves and make at least some effort to find light. Let them spend on this reading some of the hours they otherwise use so uselessly. However much they dislike the task, they may perhaps gain something, and at least they will not lose much. But for those who read with complete sincerity and a genuine desire to find truth, I hope they will be satisfied and convinced by the proofs of a religion so divine. I have collected those proofs here and arranged them roughly in the following order ...

Before entering into the proofs of the Christian religion, I find it necessary to point out the sinfulness of those men who live in indifference to the search for truth in a matter which is so important to them, and which touches them so nearly.

Before examining the evidence for Christianity, I must point out the sinfulness of those who do not care to search for truth in a matter so important and personal to them.

Of all their errors, this doubtless is the one which most convicts them of foolishness and blindness, and in which it is easiest to confound them by the first glimmerings of common sense, and by natural feelings.

Of all their errors, this one undoubtedly shows most clearly how foolish and blind they are. It is also the easiest to expose, using the first glimmers of common sense and natural feelings.

For it is not to be doubted that the duration of this life is but a moment; that the state of death is eternal, whatever may be its nature; and that thus all our actions and thoughts must take such different directions according to the state of that eternity, that it is impossible to take one step with sense and judgment, unless we regulate our course by the truth of that point which ought to be our ultimate end.

There can be no doubt that this life lasts only a moment. The state of death is eternal, whatever its nature may be. All our actions and thoughts must take very different directions depending on what that eternity is like. We cannot take a single step sensibly or wisely unless we guide our course by the truth about that eternity, which should be our ultimate end.

There is nothing clearer than this; and thus, according to the principles of reason, the conduct of men is wholly unreasonable, if they do not take another course.

Nothing could be clearer. According to reason, people’s conduct is wholly unreasonable unless they choose a different course.

On this point, therefore, we condemn those who live without thought of the ultimate end of life, who let themselves be guided by their own inclinations and their own pleasures without reflection and without concern, and, as if they could annihilate eternity by turning away their thought from it, think only of making themselves happy for the moment.

On this point, then, we condemn those who live without thinking about the ultimate purpose of life. They follow their own desires and pleasures without thought or concern. They think only of making themselves happy in the moment, as if ignoring eternity could make it disappear.

Yet this eternity exists, and death, which must open into it, and threatens them every hour, must in a little time infallibly put them under the dreadful necessity of being either annihilated or unhappy for ever, without knowing which of these eternities is for ever prepared for them.

Yet this eternity exists. Death, which leads into it, threatens them every hour. Before long, it will inevitably leave them facing a dreadful fate. They will either cease to exist or be unhappy forever. They do not know which of these two eternities awaits them.

This is a doubt of terrible consequence. They are in peril of eternal woe; and thereupon, as if the matter were not worth the trouble, they neglect to inquire whether this is one of those opinions which people receive with too credulous a facility, or one of those which, obscure in themselves, have a very firm, though hidden, foundation. Thus they know not whether there be truth or falsity in the matter, nor whether there be strength or weakness in the proofs. They have them before their eyes; they refuse to look at them; and in that ignorance they choose all that is necessary to fall into this misfortune if it exists, to await death to make trial of it, yet to be very content in this state, to make profession of it, and indeed to boast of it. Can we think seriously on the importance of this subject without being horrified at conduct so extravagant?

This doubt has terrifying consequences. They risk eternal suffering. Yet, as if the matter were not worth the trouble, they do not investigate it. They do not ask whether it is an opinion people accept too readily or one that is obscure but has a firm, hidden foundation. So they do not know whether it is true or false, or whether the evidence is strong or weak. The evidence is right before their eyes, but they refuse to look at it. In their ignorance, they choose to do all that would bring this misfortune upon them, if it exists. They wait until death to find out. Yet they are perfectly content in this state. They openly declare it and even boast about it. Can we think seriously about the importance of this subject without being horrified by such outrageous behavior?

This resting in ignorance is a monstrous thing, and they who pass their life in it must be made to feel its extravagance and stupidity, by having it shown to them, so that they may be confounded by the sight of their folly. For this is how men reason, when they choose to live in such ignorance of what they are, and without seeking enlightenment. "I know not," they say ...

Being content with ignorance is monstrous. Those who spend their lives this way must be shown how absurd and foolish it is. They should be made ashamed by seeing their folly. For this is how people reason when they choose to live in ignorance of what they are, without seeking understanding. "I don't know," they say ...

Men lack heart; they would not make a friend of it.

People lack heart. They would not make a friend of it.

To be insensible to the extent of despising interesting things, and to become insensible to the point which interests us most.

To be so indifferent that we despise things worth caring about, and to become indifferent to what concerns us most.

The sensibility of man to trifles, and his insensibility to great things, indicates a strange inversion.

People are sensitive to trivial things but insensitive to great ones. This shows a strange reversal.

Let us imagine a number of men in chains, and all condemned to death, where some are killed each day in the sight of the others, and those who remain see their own fate in that of their fellows, and wait their turn, looking at each other sorrowfully and without hope. It is an image of the condition of men.

Imagine a group of people in chains, all condemned to death. Each day, some are killed in front of the others. Those who remain see their own fate in the deaths of their companions. They wait their turn, looking at one another with sadness and no hope. This is an image of the human condition.

A man in a dungeon, ignorant whether his sentence be pronounced, and having only one hour to learn it, but this hour enough, if he know that it is pronounced, to obtain its repeal, would act unnaturally in spending that hour, not in ascertaining his sentence, but in playing piquet. So it is against nature that man, etc. It is making heavy the hand of God.

A man sits in a dungeon, not knowing whether he has been sentenced. He has only one hour to find out. If he learns that he has been sentenced, that hour is enough to have the sentence overturned. It would be unnatural for him to spend that hour playing piquet instead of finding out about his sentence. So it is against nature for man, etc. It is making God’s hand weigh heavily upon us.

Thus not only the zeal of those who seek Him proves God, but also the blindness of those who seek Him not.

The devotion of those who seek God proves his existence. So does the blindness of those who do not seek him.

All the objections of this one and that one only go against themselves, and not against religion. All that infidels say ...

All the objections people raise only count against themselves, not against religion. All that unbelievers say ...

[From those who are in despair at being without faith, we see that God does not enlighten them; but as to the rest, we see there is a God who makes them blind.]

From those who despair over their lack of faith, we see that God does not enlighten them. But as for the rest, we see that there is a God who makes them blind.

Fascinatio nugacitatis.⁸⁷—That passion may not harm us, let us act as if we had only eight hours to live.

The fascination of trivial things.⁸⁷ To keep passion from harming us, let us act as if we had only eight hours to live.

If we ought to devote eight hours of life, we ought to devote a hundred years.

If we should devote eight hours of our lives, we should devote a hundred years.

When I consider the short duration of my life, swallowed up in the eternity before and after, the little space which I fill, and even can see, engulfed in the infinite immensity of spaces of which I am ignorant, and which know me not, I am frightened, and am astonished at being here rather than there; for there is no reason why here rather than there, why now rather than then. Who has put me here? By whose order and direction have this place and time been allotted to me? Memoria hospitis unius diei prætereuntis.⁸⁸

When I think about how short my life is, swallowed up by the eternity before and after it, I am afraid. I think of the small space I occupy, and even the small space I can see. Both are engulfed by the vast infinity of spaces I know nothing about, and that know nothing of me. I am amazed to be here rather than there. There is no reason for me to be here rather than there, or now rather than then. Who put me here? By whose order and direction were this place and time given to me? Memoria hospitis unius diei prætereuntis.⁸⁸

The eternal silence of these infinite spaces frightens me.

The endless silence of these infinite spaces frightens me.

How many kingdoms know us not!

How many kingdoms do not know us!

Why is my knowledge limited? Why my stature? Why my life to one hundred years rather than to a thousand? What reason has nature had for giving me such, and for choosing this number rather than another in the infinity of those from which there is no more reason to choose one than another, trying nothing else?

Why is my knowledge limited? Why is my height limited? Why is my life limited to a hundred years rather than a thousand? What reason did nature have for giving me these limits? Why did it choose this number rather than another from the infinite numbers available? There is no more reason to choose one than another without trying any others.

Art thou less a slave by being loved and favoured by thy master? Thou art indeed well off, slave. Thy master favours thee; he will soon beat thee.

Are you any less a slave because your master loves and favors you? You are certainly well off, slave. Your master favors you. He will soon beat you.

The last act is tragic, however happy all the rest of the play is; at the last a little earth is thrown upon our head, and that is the end for ever.

The final act is tragic, however happy the rest of the play may be. In the end, a little earth is thrown on our heads, and that is the end forever.

We are fools to depend upon the society of our fellow-men. Wretched as we are, powerless as we are, they will not aid us; we shall die alone. We should therefore act as if we were alone, and in that case should we build fine houses, etc.? We should seek the truth without hesitation; and, if we refuse it, we show that we value the esteem of men more than the search for truth.

We are foolish to depend on the company of other people. Miserable and powerless as we are, they will not help us. We will die alone. So we should act as if we were alone. If we did, would we build fine houses and so on? We should seek the truth without hesitation. If we refuse to seek it, we show that we value other people's respect more than the search for truth.

Instability.⁸⁹—It is a horrible thing to feel all that we possess slipping away.

Instability.⁸⁹ It is terrifying to feel everything we have slipping away.

Between us and heaven or hell there is only life, which is the frailest thing in the world.

Only life stands between us and heaven or hell, and life is the most fragile thing in the world.

Injustice.—That presumption should be joined to meanness is extreme injustice.

Injustice. It is extremely unjust for arrogance to be joined with baseness.

To fear death without danger, and not in danger, for one must be a man.

Fear death when there is no danger, but not when there is danger. For one must be a man.

Sudden death alone is feared; hence confessors stay with lords.

Only sudden death is feared. That is why confessors stay with lords.

An heir finds the title-deeds of his house. Will he say, "Perhaps they are forged?" and neglect to examine them?

An heir finds the deeds to his house. Will he say, "Perhaps they are forged," and neglect to examine them?

Dungeon.—I approve of not examining the opinion of Copernicus; but this...! It concerns all our life to know whether the soul be mortal or immortal.

Dungeon. I approve of not examining Copernicus's theory. But this...! Whether the soul is mortal or immortal concerns our whole life.

It is certain that the mortality or immortality of the soul must make an entire difference to morality. And yet philosophers have constructed their ethics independently of this: they discuss to pass an hour.

It is certain that whether the soul is mortal or immortal must make a complete difference to morality. Yet philosophers have built their ethics without considering this. They discuss it merely to pass the time.

Plato, to incline to Christianity.

Plato, to lean toward Christianity.

The fallacy of philosophers who have not discussed the immortality of the soul. The fallacy of their dilemma in Montaigne.

The error of philosophers who have not discussed the immortality of the soul. The error in their dilemma as presented by Montaigne.

Atheists ought to say what is perfectly evident; now it is not perfectly evident that the soul is material.

Atheists should say what is perfectly clear. But it is not perfectly clear that the soul is material.

Atheists.—What reason have they for saying that we cannot rise from the dead? What is more difficult, to be born or to rise again; that what has never been should be, or that what has been should be again? Is it more difficult to come into existence than to return to it? Habit makes the one appear easy to us; want of habit makes the other impossible. A popular way of thinking!

Atheists. What reason do they have to say that we cannot rise from the dead? Which is harder, to be born or to rise again? Is it harder for something that has never existed to exist, or for something that has existed to exist again? Is it harder to come into existence than to return to it? We are used to the first, so it seems easy. We are not used to the second, so it seems impossible. What a common way of thinking!

Why cannot a virgin bear a child? Does a hen not lay eggs without a cock? What distinguishes these outwardly from others? And who has told us that the hen may not form the germ as well as the cock?

Why can’t a virgin bear a child? Doesn’t a hen lay eggs without a rooster? How do these eggs look different from others? And who has told us that the hen cannot form the germ as well as the rooster?

What have they to say against the resurrection, and against the child-bearing of the Virgin? Which is the more difficult, to produce a man or an animal, or to reproduce it? And if they had never seen any species of animals, could they have conjectured whether they were produced without connection with each other?

What can they say against the resurrection and the Virgin giving birth? Which is harder, to create a human or an animal, or to bring one back to life? If they had never seen any kind of animal, could they have guessed whether animals were produced independently of one another?

How I hate these follies of not believing in the Eucharist, etc.! If the Gospel be true, if Jesus Christ be God, what difficulty is there?

How I hate the folly of not believing in the Eucharist, and so on! If the Gospel is true, if Jesus Christ is God, what is so hard to believe?

Atheism shows strength of mind, but only to a certain degree.

Atheism shows strength of mind, but only up to a point.

Infidels, who profess to follow reason, ought to be exceedingly strong in reason. What say they then? "Do we not see," say they, "that the brutes live and die like men, and Turks like Christians? They have their ceremonies, their prophets, their doctors, their saints, their monks, like us," etc. (Is this contrary to Scripture? Does it not say all this?)

Unbelievers who claim to follow reason should be exceptionally strong in reasoning. What do they say, then? "Don't we see," they say, "that animals live and die like humans, and Turks like Christians? They have their ceremonies, their prophets, their teachers, their saints, and their monks, just as we do," and so on. (Does this contradict Scripture? Doesn't it say all this?)

If you care but little to know the truth, here is enough of it to leave you in repose. But if you desire with all your heart to know it, it is not enough; look at it in detail. This would be sufficient for a question in philosophy; but not here, where it concerns your all. And yet, after a trifling reflection of this kind, we go to amuse ourselves, etc. Let us inquire of this same religion whether it does not give a reason for this obscurity; perhaps it will teach it to us.

If you care little about knowing the truth, there is enough here to leave you at ease. But if you want with all your heart to know it, this is not enough. Look at it more closely. This would be enough for a question of philosophy, but not here, where everything you have is at stake. And yet, after giving it so little thought, we go off to amuse ourselves, and so on. Let us ask this same religion whether it explains why the truth is obscure. Perhaps it will teach us the reason.

Order by dialogues.—What ought I to do? I see only darkness everywhere. Shall I believe I am nothing? Shall I believe I am God?

Organize as dialogues. What should I do? I see only darkness everywhere. Should I believe I am nothing? Should I believe I am God?

"All things change and succeed each other." You are mistaken; there is ...

"Everything changes, and one thing follows another." You are mistaken. There is ...

Objection of atheists: "But we have no light."

Atheists object: "But we have no light."

This is what I see and what troubles me. I look on all sides, and I see only darkness everywhere. Nature presents to me nothing which is not matter of doubt and concern. If I saw nothing there which revealed a Divinity, I would come to a negative conclusion; if I saw everywhere the signs of a Creator, I would remain peacefully in faith. But, seeing too much to deny and too little to be sure, I am in a state to be pitied; wherefore I have a hundred time wished that if a God maintains nature, she should testify to Him unequivocally, and that, if the signs she gives are deceptive, she should suppress them altogether; that she should say everything or nothing, that I might see which cause I ought to follow. Whereas in my present state, ignorant of what I am or of what I ought to do, I know neither my condition nor my duty. My heart inclines wholly to know where is the true good, in order to follow it; nothing would be too dear to me for eternity.

This is what I see, and it troubles me. I look in every direction and see only darkness. Everything nature shows me gives me reason for doubt and concern. If I saw nothing in nature that revealed a divine being, I would conclude that none exists. If I saw signs of a Creator everywhere, I would rest peacefully in faith. But I see too much to deny and too little to be sure. My condition is pitiful. A hundred times I have wished that, if God sustains nature, nature would reveal him clearly. And if its signs are deceptive, I have wished that nature would hide them altogether. I wish it would tell me everything or nothing, so I could see which path to follow. As things are, I do not know what I am or what I ought to do. I know neither my condition nor my duty. With all my heart, I want to know where the true good lies, so I can follow it. No price would be too high for eternity.

I envy those whom I see living in the faith with such carelessness, and who make such a bad use of a gift of which it seems to me I would make such a different use.

I envy those I see living so carelessly in faith. They make such poor use of a gift that I feel I would use so differently.

It is incomprehensible that God should exist, and it is incomprehensible that He should not exist; that the soul should be joined to the body, and that we should have no soul; that the world should be created, and that it should not be created, etc.; that original sin should be, and that it should not be.

It is impossible to understand how God could exist, and also how he could not exist. It is impossible to understand how the soul could be joined to the body, and also how we could have no soul. It is impossible to understand how the world could have been created, and also how it could not have been created, and so on. It is impossible to understand how original sin could exist, and also how it could not exist.

Do you believe it to be impossible that God is infinite, without parts?—Yes. I wish therefore to show you an infinite and indivisible thing. It is a point moving everywhere with an infinite velocity; for it is one in all places, and is all totality in every place.

Do you believe it is impossible for God to be infinite and without parts? Yes. Then I want to show you something infinite and indivisible. It is a point moving everywhere at infinite speed. It is one point in all places, and it is entirely present in every place.

Let this effect of nature, which previously seemed to you impossible, make you know that there may be others of which you are still ignorant. Do not draw this conclusion from your experiment, that there remains nothing for you to know; but rather that there remains an infinity for you to know.

This effect of nature once seemed impossible to you. Let it show you that there may be others you still do not know about. Do not conclude from your experience that there is nothing left for you to learn. Instead, conclude that there is an infinite amount left for you to learn.

Infinite movement, the point which fills everything, the moment of rest; infinite without quantity, indivisible and infinite.

Infinite motion, the point that fills everything, the moment of rest. Infinite without quantity, indivisible and infinite.

Infinite—nothing.—Our soul is cast into a body, where it finds number, time, dimension. Thereupon it reasons, and calls this nature, necessity, and can believe nothing else.

Infinity. Nothing. Our soul is placed in a body, where it finds number, time, and space. It then reasons and calls this nature and necessity. It 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.

Adding one to infinity adds nothing to it, just as adding one foot adds nothing to an infinite distance. The finite is wiped out in the presence of the infinite and becomes nothing at all. So it is with our spirit before God and our justice before divine justice. The difference between our justice and God’s is not as great as the difference between one 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.

God's justice must be as vast as his compassion. Justice toward the outcast is less vast than mercy toward the elect. It should also offend our feelings less.

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 that infinity exists, but we do not know its nature. We know it is false that numbers are finite. Therefore, there must be an infinity of numbers. But we do not know what it is. It is neither even nor odd, because adding one cannot change its nature. Yet it is a number, and every number is odd or even. This is certainly true of every finite number. In the same way, we may know that God exists without knowing what he is. Must there not be one fundamental truth, given that so many things are not 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.

We know that the finite exists and what it is like, because we too are finite and occupy space. We know that the infinite exists, but not what it is like. It occupies space as we do, but it has no limits as we do. But we know neither whether God exists nor what he is like, because he neither occupies space nor has 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.

But through faith we know that he exists. In glory we will know his nature. I have already shown that we can know something exists without knowing its nature.

Let us now speak according to natural lights.

Let us now speak using natural reason.

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.

If God exists, he is infinitely beyond our understanding. He has no parts or limits, so he has nothing in common with us. We cannot know what he is or whether he exists. Given this, who will dare to decide the question? Not us, who have nothing in common with 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;⁹⁰ 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.

Who, then, will blame Christians for being unable to give a reason for their belief? They profess a religion for which they say they cannot give a reason. When they explain it to the world, they declare that it is foolishness, stultitiam.⁹⁰ Yet you complain that they do not prove it! If they proved it, they would not keep their word. By lacking proofs, they show that they are not lacking in sense. “Yes, but although this excuses those who present it as such, it does not excuse those who accept it. It removes the blame from those who put it forward without reason, but not from those who receive it.” Let us examine this point, then. Let us say, “God exists, or he does not.” But which side should we take? Reason cannot decide this. An infinite chaos separates us from the answer. At the far end of this infinite distance, a game is being played in which heads or tails will come up. What will you wager? Reason tells you that you can choose neither side. Reason cannot defend either proposition.

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."

Then do not criticize those who have made a choice for being wrong. You know nothing about it. "No, I blame them not for the choice they made, but for making a choice at all. Both the person who chooses heads and the person who chooses tails are equally at fault. They are both wrong. The right 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; wherever 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.

Yes, but you must wager. You have no choice. You are already committed. Which will you choose? Let us see. Since you must choose, let us see which choice costs you least. You have two things to lose, truth and goodness. You have two things to stake, your reason and your will, your knowledge and your happiness. And your nature has two things to avoid, error and misery. Your reason is no more offended by one choice than by the other, since you must choose. That settles one point. But what about your happiness? Let us weigh the gain and the loss in betting that God exists. Let us consider the two possibilities. If you win, you gain everything. If you lose, you lose nothing. So bet without hesitation that he exists. “That is all very well. Yes, I must wager, but perhaps I may wager too much.” Let us see. Suppose your chances of winning and losing were equal, and you could gain only two lives instead of one. You might still wager. But if you could gain three lives, you would have to play, since you must play. When you are forced to play, it would be unwise not to risk your life to gain three. The chances of winning and losing are equal. But there is an eternity of life and happiness to gain. Given that, suppose there were infinitely many possible outcomes, and only one favored you. You would still be right to wager one life to win two. And suppose there were an infinite amount of infinitely happy life to gain. If you had to play, you would be foolish to refuse to stake one life against three. This would be true even in a game with only one favorable outcome among infinitely many. But here there is an infinite amount of infinitely happy life to gain. There is one chance of winning against a finite number of chances of losing. And what you stake is finite. Everything is settled. Wherever the gain is infinite, and the chances of losing are not infinite compared with the chance of winning, there is no time to hesitate. You must give everything. So, when someone is forced to play, they must abandon reason to preserve their life. That is so if they choose preservation over risking it for an infinite gain, as likely 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 certainty 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.

It is no use saying that our gain is uncertain while what we risk is certain. Nor can we say that the infinite distance between the certainty of the stake and the uncertainty of the gain makes them equal. That is, it does not make the finite good we certainly stake equal to the uncertain infinite gain. This is not so. Every player stakes something certain to gain something uncertain. Yet a player can stake a finite certainty for a finite uncertain gain without acting against reason. There is no infinite distance between the certain stake and the uncertain gain. That is simply untrue. In fact, there is an infinite distance between certain gain and certain loss. But the uncertain gain is proportionate to the certain stake, according to the respective chances of winning and losing. If the chances are equal on both sides, the proper course is to play for even stakes. In that case, the certain stake equals the uncertain gain. Far from being infinitely distant, they are equal in value. Our proposition therefore has infinite force. We stake something finite in a game with equal chances of gain and loss, and the possible gain is infinite. This can be demonstrated. If people are capable of knowing any truths, this is one of them.

"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?"

"I confess it. I admit it. But is there no way to see the faces of the cards?" Yes, Scripture and the rest, and so on. "Yes, but my hands are tied and my mouth is shut. I am forced to wager, and I am not free. I cannot escape it, and I am made in such a way 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?

True. But at least recognize that you cannot believe. Reason has brought you to this point, yet you still cannot believe. So try to convince yourself, not by seeking more proofs of God, but by calming your passions. You want to gain faith, but you do not know how. You want to cure yourself of unbelief, and you ask for a remedy. Learn from those who were once bound as you are and now stake all their possessions. They know the way you want to follow. They have been cured of the illness you want to cure. Follow the way they began. Act as if you believed, take holy water, have masses said, and so on. Even this will naturally lead you to believe and dull your sharpness. “But that is what I am afraid of.” 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.

But to show you that this leads you there, it will lessen your passions, which are obstacles in your way.

The end of this discourse.—Now, what harm will befall you in taking this side? You will be faithful, honest, 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.

The end of this discussion. Now, what harm will come to you from taking this side? You will be faithful, honest, humble, grateful, generous, a sincere friend, and truthful. Of course, you will not have those poisonous pleasures of fame and luxury. But will you not have other pleasures? I tell you that you will gain from this in your life. With each step you take on this path, you will see how certain your gain is. You will see how little you risk. At last, you will recognize that you have wagered for something certain and infinite, giving nothing in return.

"Ah! This discourse transports me, charms me," etc.

“Oh! This speech carries me away and delights 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.

If this discourse pleases you and seems impressive, know that its author knelt in prayer both before and after writing it. He prayed to that infinite Being, who has no parts, and laid before him all he has. He prayed that you, too, would lay before God all you have, for your own good and his glory. He prayed that humility might be given strength.

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.

If we must act only when we are certain, we should not act on religion, because it is not certain. But how many things do we do despite uncertainty, such as sea voyages and battles! By that reasoning, I say, we must do nothing at all, because nothing is certain. And religion is more certain than whether we will see tomorrow. We cannot be certain that we will see tomorrow, and it is certainly possible that we will not. We cannot say as much about religion. It is not certain that it is true. But who would dare say that it is certainly possible that it is not? Yet when we work for tomorrow, and therefore for something uncertain, we act reasonably. We should work for an uncertain outcome, according to the doctrine of probability 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.

Saint Augustine saw that we work toward uncertain outcomes, at sea, in battle, and elsewhere. But he did not see the principles of probability that prove we should do so. Montaigne saw that we are shocked by a fool and that habit is all-powerful. But he did not see the reason for 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.

All these people have seen the effects, but they have not seen the causes. Compared with those who have discovered the causes, they are like people with sight but no intellect. Effects can be perceived by the senses, but causes can be seen only by the intellect. Even though the mind sees these effects, it differs from the mind that sees their causes. The difference is like that between the bodily senses and the intellect.

Rem viderunt, causam non viderunt.

They saw the fact, but they did not see its cause.

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.

According to the laws of chance, you should make the effort to search for the truth. If you die without worshipping the true cause, you are lost. "But," you say, "if he had wanted me to worship him, he would have left me signs of his will." He has done so, but you ignore them. So look for them. It is well worth the effort.

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.

Chances. We must live differently depending on which of these possibilities is true. (1) We could stay in this world forever. (2) We are certain to leave it soon, and we may not remain even one more hour. The second possibility is our condition.

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?

What do you promise me besides certain troubles? Ten years of self-love, since ten years is what I can expect, spent trying hard to please without success?

Objection.—Those who hope for salvation are so far happy; but they have as a counterpoise the fear of hell.

Objection. Those who hope for salvation are happy to that extent, but their fear of hell balances that happiness.

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?

Reply. Who has more reason to fear hell? Is it the person who does not know whether hell exists, but is certain of damnation if it does? Or is it the person who is certain that hell exists, and hopes to be saved if it does?

"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.

“I would soon give up pleasure if I had faith,” they say. I tell you, “You would soon have faith if you gave up pleasure.” Now it is up to you to begin. If I could, I would give you faith. I cannot do that, so I cannot test whether what you say is true. But you can give up pleasure and test whether what I say is true.

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.

Order. I would be far more afraid of being wrong and discovering that Christianity was true than of being right in believing it was true.