tecture of the sentence or the paragraph, has
passed away. Indeed, it can hardly be said that two centuries have added
much to the language except in point of richness and adaptation to the
more multifarious needs of the describer in modern times. The style is
extremely simple, but it has none of the monotony, the lack of colour,
and the stereotyped form which are the great drawbacks of French after
Boileau as contrasted with French before him. It is extraordinarily
graphic, sparkling with epigram at every point, and yet never
sacrificing sense to the play of words. The _Pensees_ (which it must
always be remembered were never finally worked up) yield matter which
will compare with the carefully concocted Maxims of La Rochefoucauld or
of Joubert, while the _Provinciales_ are, as has been said,
unsurpassable in their own line. It is probable that most good judges
would allot to Pascal in French the place which Dryden occupies in
English, that is to say, the place of the writer who combines most of
the advantages of the elder and younger manners. But Pascal, who wrote
merely to please himself, had this great advantage over Dryden, that his
work contains no mere journey-work, and especially nothing unworthy of
him. Admirable as it is in style, it is equally admirable in meaning and
in adaptation to that meaning, and it has thus both the sources of
lasting popularity at command. Dealing, moreover, as it does with
subjects of perennial importance and interest, it is almost entirely
exempt from the necessity of comment and explanation which weighs down
much admirable work of past ages. No man, however indisposed to serious
reading, can put down the _Provinciales_ as dull; no man, however
unwilling to read anything that is not serious, can complain of levity
in the _Pensees_. There are few authors in any language who unite as
Pascal does the claims of importance of subject, charm of style, and
bulk, without too great voluminousness of production. He has, moreover,
the additional merit of being in a high degree representative of his
age. That age had grown too complex for one man to reflect the whole of
it, but Pascal and Moliere (with perhaps Saint Evremond or La
Rochefoucauld as thirdsman) supply an almost complete reflection.

Saint Evremond[267], who was thirteen years Pascal's senior, and who
outlived him by more than forty years, was, in almost every respect
except intellectual vigour and literary faculty, his opposite. He