the title of ‘Entretiens de Cléandre et d’Eudoxe sur les Lettres au Provincial;’ but notwithstanding a certain amount of learning and apparent candour, the reply made no impression upon the public. Even the Jesuits themselves felt it to be a failure. “Father Daniel,” it was said, “professed to have reason and truth on his side; but his adversary had in his favour what goes much farther with men,—the arms of ridicule and pleasantry.” As late as 1851 an edition of the ‘Letters’ appeared by the Abbé Maynard, accompanied by a page 154professed refutation of their misstatements. But the truth is, Pascal’s work is one of those which admit of no adequate refutation. Even if it be granted that he has occasionally made the most of a quotation, and brought points together which, taken separately in their connection, have not the offensive meaning attributed to them, this touches but little the reader who has enjoyed their exquisite raillery or has been moved by their indignant denunciation. The real force of the Letters lies in their wit and eloquence—their mingled comedy and invective. They may be parried or resented—they can never be refuted.
We have already quoted Voltaire’s saying, “The best comedies of Molière have not more wit than the first Provincial Letters.” “Bossuet,” he added, “has nothing more sublime than the concluding ones.” They were regarded by him as “models of eloquence and pleasantry,” as the “first work of genius” that appeared in French prose. When Bossuet himself was asked of what work he would most wish to have been the author, he answered, “The ‘Provincial Letters.’” Madame de Sévigné writes of them (Dec. 21, 1689): “How charming