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Fl
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SPECTEMUR
GENDO
John Thruston Motte
THE
ESSAYS
OF
Eyquem
MICHAEL DE MONTAIGNE,
TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH,
WITH VERY CONSIDERABLE
AMENDMENTS AND IMPROVEMENTS
FROM
THE MOST ACCURATE FRENCH EDITION OF
PETER COSTE.
The Ninth Edition.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.
LONDON:
PRINTED FOR W. MILLER, ALBEMARLE STREET; WHITE AND
COCHRANE, FLEET STREET; AND LACKINGTON, ALLEN, AND
CO., FINSBURY SQUARE;
By C. Baldwin, New Bridge-street.
1811.
3-1-
Find
CONTENTS.
Chap
I. OF Repentance
•
Page.
1
II. Of Three Commerces, i. e. Familiarities with Men,
Women, and Books
20
III. Of Diversion.
36
IV. On some Verses of Virgil
50
V. of Coaches ....
132
VI. Of the Inconvenience of Greatness
158
VII. Of the Art of Discoursing
165
VIII. Of Vanity
197
IX. Of managing the Will..
276
X. Of Cripples
XI. Of Physiognomy
XII. Of Experience
The Appendix.
306
320
357
433
•
ESSAYS
OF
1
MICHAEL SEIGNEUR DE MONTAIGNE.
CHAPTER I.
Of Repentance.
continual
OTHERS form man, I only declare what he is ; The world
and I represent a particular one, very indifferently subject to
formed, and whom, were I to model again, I would changes.
certainly make very different from what he is; but
what is done cannot be recalled. Now, though the
features of my picture vary, there is still a likeness.
The universe is but one perpetual motion, in which
all things are incessantly wheeled about; the earth,
the rocks of Caucasus, and the pyramids of Egypt,
both by the general motion, and a particular one of
their own. Constancy itself is no other than a more
languid motion. I cannot be sure of my object: it
is always disturbed and staggering by a natural gid-
diness. I take it in this point as it is at the instant
when I consider it. I do not paint its being, I paint
its passage; not a passage from one century to
another, or, as the people say, from seven years to
another seven; but from day to day, from minute to
minute. I must accommodate my history to the
time. I may soon change not only my fortune, but
also my intention. It is a true copy of various and
changeable accidents, and of imaginations that are
wavering, and sometimes contrary. Whether it be
VOL. III.
B
สูง
OF REPENTANCE.
Why, and
10 what
manner
undertakes
this book.
that I am not then the man I was, or that I lay hold
on the subjects with other circumstances and consi-
derations, so it is that perhaps I may plainly con-
tradict myself; but, as Demades said, I do not con-
tradict the truth. Could my soul once take sure
footing, I would not make an attempt, but would
speak definitively and peremptorily; but it is always
learning and making trial.
I propose a life mean, and without lustre. It is
all one; all moral philosophy is as applicable to a
Montaigne vulgar and private life as to the most spendid.
to speak of Every man carries the entire form of the human
himself in condition. Authors communicate themselves to
the people by some special and extraordinary work.
I, in the first place, my universal being, as Michael
de Montaigne, not as a grammarian, a poet, or a
lawyer. If men complain that I speak too much of
myself, I complain that they do not so much as
-think of themselves. But is it reasonable, that
being so particular in my way of living, I should
pretend to make myself known to the public? And
is it also reasonable that I should introduce into the
world, where workmanship and art have so much
credit and authority, the crude and plain effects of
nature, and of frail nature too? Is not writing books
without learning like building a wall without stone
or brick? The fancies of music are carried on by
art, mine by chance. I have this at least, according
to discipline, that never any man treated of a sub-
ject, whereof he was more the master, than I am of
that which I have undertaken; and that in this I
am the most knowing man alive. Secondly, that
never did any man penetrate deeper into his subject,
nor more distinctly scrutinize into its parts and con-
sequences, nor ever more exactly and more plainly
arrived at the end which he proposed to himself in
his work. To finish it, I need only apply to it with
the fidelity which I have therein displayed with the
utmost sincerity and purity. I speak the truth, not
as much as I would, but as much as I dare; and I
·
OF REPENTANCE.›
%
dare a little the more as I grow older; for, me-
thinks, custom indulges my age with more liberty of
prating, as well as of indiscretion in talking of a
man's self. That cannot fall out here, which I often
observe elsewhere, that the work and the artificer
contradict each other. Has a man of so elegant a
conversation written so silly a treatise? or are such
learned writings the product of a man of so mean
conversation, whose discourse is common, and who
but seldom writes; that is to say, whose capacity is
borrowed, and not his own? A man of learning is
not learned in every thing; but the self-sufficient
man is sufficient in every thing, even in ignorance.
Here my book and I go hand in hand in one even
pace. In other cases a work may be recommended
and censured abstractedly from the workman, but
not in this. He that touches the one, touches the
other. He that shall judge of it without knowing
him, will injure himself more than me. He who
does know him gives me all the satisfaction I desire.
I shall be more happy than I deserve, if I can only
obtain thus much from the public approbation, as to
make men of understanding sensible that I was
capable of making learning turn to my benefit if I
had it, and that I deserved to have been assisted by
a better memory. Be pleased here to excuse what
I often say, that I seldom repent of any thing, and
that my conscience is satisfied with itself, not like
the conscience of an angel or a horse, but that of a
man, always adding this check, not a check of cere-
mony, but of true and genuine submission, that I
speak by way of inquiry, and for better information,
referring myself for determination purely and simply
to the common and authorised opinions. I do not
teach, I only relate.
tends vieę.
There is no vice that is really such which does The sorrow
not offend, and which a sound judgment does not which at-
blame; for there is so manifest a.deformity and in-
convenience in it, that perhaps they are in the right
who say, that it is chiefly produced from ignorance.
B 2
4
OF REPENTANCE.
The satis-
faction that
and stupidity; so hard is it to imagine that a man
can know it without abhorring it. Malice* sucks in
the greatest part of its own venom, and itself is
therewith poisoned. Vice leaves a repentance in the
mind, which, like an ulcer in the flesh, is always
scratched till it bleeds; for reason effaces all other
sorrows and griefs, but it begets this of repentance,
which is the more grievous because it springs from
within, as the internal cold and heat of agues and
fevers is more intense and severe than what we feel
from without. I not only hold those for vices (though
not equally such) which both reason and nature con-
demn, but those also which have been made such in
the opinion of men, however false and erroneous, if
it is authorised by the laws and custom.
Nor is there any virtue the practice of which does
is connect- not give joy to a well-disposed mind. There is
ed with a really an inconceivable joy in a man's own breast
science. upon his doing good, and a generous boldness that
good con
accompanies a good conscience. A soul that is
daringly vicious may perhaps arm itself with secu-
rity, but cannot supply itself with this complacency
and satisfaction. It is no slight pleasure to a man
to be preserved from the contagion of so corrupt an
age, and to say to himself, whoever shall look into
my soul will not find me guilty of any man's ruin
or affliction, nor of revenge or envy, nor of the
public violation of the laws, nor of innovation, nor
disturbance, nor of the breach of a promise: and
though the licentiousness of the age has not only
tolerated, but taught it to every man; yet I have not
seized the estate or purse of any Frenchman what-
soever, but have lived only upon what is my own,
both in war and in peace; nor have I set any man
to work without paying him his hire. These are
pleasing testimonies of a good conscience; and this
natural gladness is a great benefit to us, and the only
reward that never fails us.
* This thought is taken from Seneca, ep. 81, where he mentions.
it as a common saying of his countryman Âttalus.
OF REPENTANCE.
5
taigne,
himself.
To found the recompence of virtuous actions on According
the approbation of others is laying it on a founda- to Mon-
tion too uncertain and embarrassed, especially in so every man
corrupt and ignorant an age as the present, wherein ought to sit
in judg-
the good opinion of the vulgar is a scandal. Upon ment upon
whom do you rely for the discovery of what is com-
mendable? God forbid that I should be an honest
man according to the honourable definition which I
daily see every one gives of it, Quæ fuerunt vitia,
mores sunt : The things that were formerly
"reckoned vices are the manners of the present
"age." Certain friends of mine have at times re-
primanded me very frankly of their own accord, or
at my instigation, thereby performing an office which,
to a mind that is rightly formed, surpasses all the
offices of friendship, not only in utility but in kind-
ness. I have always received them with the most
open arms of courtesy and gratitude. But to speak
conscientiously, I have often discovered, both in
their reproaches and their praises, so much false
measure, that I had not done much amiss, rather to
have acted wrong than right, according to their
standard. We, especially who lead a private life,
not exposed to any other view than our own, ought
to have a tribunal established in our breasts, where-
by to try our actions; and, according to that, some-
times to caress, and at other times to correct our-
selves. I have my laws and my court of justice to
judge myself by, and apply myself to those more
than to any other rules. I do indeed restrain my
actions by those of other men, but do not extend
them by any other rule except my own.
It is only
known to yourself whether you are cowardly and
cruel, or loyal and devout. Others see you not, and
only form uncertain conjectures of you. They do
not perceive your nature so plainly as your art; rely
not therefore upon their verdict, but stick to your
own: Tuo tibi judicio est utendum-Virtutis et
Senec. ep. 39, at the end.
·
6
OF REPENTANCE.
The excel-
lency of a
gular.
vitiorum grave ipsius conscientiæ pondus est; qua
sublata jacent omnia: "Make use of your judg
"ment-conscience plainly shows the weight of
"virtues and vices; take away that, all falls to
"the ground." But the saying, that repentance fol-
lows close at the heels of sin, seems not to have re-
gard to sin in its richest attire, which is lodged in us
as in its own proper habitation. It is possible to
disavow and retract the vices that surprise us, and
towards which our passions hurry us; but those
which by a long habit are rooted and anchored in a
strong and vigorous will, are not liable to be gain-
sayed. Repentance is no other than a recanting of
our will, and an opposition to our fancies, that fol-
lows us close which way soever we take. It makes
another person disown his former virtue and con-
tinency:
1
Quæ mens est hodie cur eadem non puero fuit ?†
Vel cur his animis incolumes non redeunt genæ ?
Ah! whilst I was a vig'rous boy
Why did I not this mind enjoy?
Or why does not my rosy hue
Return to paint my cheeks anew?
That is an exquisite life wherein a due regularity
private life is maintained within doors. Every one may play a
which is re-part in the puppet-show, and represent an honest
man upon the stage; but within his own breast,
where he may do what he list, and where nobody
sees us; for a man to be regular there, that is the
point. The next degree is for a man to be so at his
own house in his ordinary actions, for which we are
accountable to nobody, and wherein there is no
study, no artifice; and therefore Bias, representing
the excellent state of a family, says, the master of
* Cic. de Natura Deorum, lib. iii. cap. 35.
+ Horace here characterises Ligurinus, who repented, when he
came to be an old man, that he had not made an ill use of his beauty
while he had it.
Hor. lib. iv. ode 10, ver. 7, 8.
OF REPENTANCE.
7
"
it was the same within doors, when by himself, as he
was abroad, when governed by a regard to the laws,
and the report of men.* And it was a worthy say-
ing of Julius Drusust to the builders, when they
offered for 3000 crowns to raise his house so high
that his neighbours should not overlook him so
much as before,-I will give you, says he,‡ 6000 to
make it so that it may be looked into on all sides.
It is mentioned to the honour of Agesilaus, that
when he travelled he used to take up his quarters in
the temples, to the end that the people, and the
gods themselves, might be spectators of his private
actions. Such a one has been the miracle of the
world, in whom neither his wife nor servant have
never seen any thing remarkable.§ Few men have
been admired by their domestics. We find in his-
tory, that a prophet hath no honour, not only in his No man a
own family, but in his own country. It is the same prophet
in less things: and in this mean example the country,
image of greater is to be seen. In my country of
Gascoigne they look upon it as a drollery to see me
in print. The farther off I am read from my own
home the more I am esteemed. I am fain to pur-
chase printers in Guienne, elsewhere they purchase
* Plutarch, in the Banquet of the wise Men, ch. 23.
+ Or rather Marcus Livius Drusus, the famous tribune of the
people, who died anno 662, at Rome, after having, by his ambition,
fomented a dangerous war in Italy, of which Florus treats, lib. iii.
cap. 17 and 18. As to what Montaigne says here of Livius Drusus,
he took it from a treatise of Plutarch, entitled Instructions to those
who manage the Affairs of State, ch. 4, where this Drusus is called
Julius Drusus, a tribune of the people. If Montaigne had con-
sulted Paterculus on this article, he might have perceived this small
mistake of Plutarch.
It is Plutarch that makes him speak thus; but, according to
Paterculus, Drusus being about to build a house, and having an offer
made him by the architect to contrive it after such a model that
none of his neighbours might look into it, Drusus said, "If you
"know how, make me such a house rather that what I do in it may
"be seen by every body.”
A man must be a hero indeed, said marshal Catinat, if his foot-
man thinks it.
his own
in
8
OF REPENTANCE.
Wherein
Į
·
me. Upon this foundation they go who conceal
themselves living and present, to obtain a name
when they are absent and dead. I had rather have
less of it and do not publish myself to the world
for more than my share of it; when I leave it, I
quit all farther claim. The people reconduct such
a one by a public act with amazement to his very
door. He put off this pageantry with his robe, and
falls so much the lower from it by how much the
higher he was exalted. In his house there is nothing
but tumult and disorder; and was there a regularity
in it, it would require a quick and well tried judg
ment to perceive it in these low and private actions:
to which may be added, that order is a dull melan-
choly virtue. To enter a breach, to conduct an
embassy, to govern a people, are actions of renown;
to reprove, laugh, sell, pay, love, hate, and converse
pleasantly and rationally with a man's own family,
and with himself, not to relax nor to recant, are
things more rare, more difficult, and less remarkable.
By this means, they who lead a retired life do, what,
ever is said to the contrary, undergo offices of
greater difficulty and extent than others. And
private men, says Aristotle, serve virtue with more
difficulty and eminence than they who are in the
magistracy. We prepare ourselves for eminent oc-
casions, more out of vanity than conscience. The
shortest way to arrive at glory would be to do that
for conscience which we do for glory. The virtue of
Alexander appears to me with far less vigour in his
theatre than that of Socrates in his mean and ob-
scure employment. I can easily conceive Socrates
in the place of Alexander, but Alexander in that of
Socrates I cannot. Ask the one what he can do, he
will answer, "Conquer the world; " ask the other
the same question, he will say, "Conduct human life
"conformably to its natural condition;" a science
much more general, weighty, and more lawful.
The soul is to be valued not for its high flight,
consists but for its regularity. Its greatness is not exercised
.
OF REPENTANCE.
9
in grandeur, but mediocrity. As they who judge magna-
and try us internally, make no great account of the nimity.
lustre of our public actions, and see that they are
only threads and rays of clear water, springing from
a slimy and muddy bottom; so likewise they who
judge of us by this fine outward appearance make
the same conclusion from our internal constitution,
and cannot couple faculties that are common and
like their own, with those other faculties that
astonish them, and are so far out of their sight.
Therefore it is that we give savage forms to dæmons;
and who does not give Tamerlane large eye-brows,
wide-nostrils, a dreadful face, and a stature beyond
measure, according to the conception he has formed
from the report of his name? Had any one hereto-
fore showed me Erasmus, I would hardly have be-
lieved but that every thing he spoke to his man or
his landlady was adage and apophthegm. We have
a more suitable idea of an artificer upon his close-
stool, or upon his wife, than of a great president
venerable for his carriage and abilities. We fancy
that they do not stoop so low from their high tri-
bunals as to live. As vicious souls are often incited
to do well by some strange impulse, so are virtuous
souls to do ill. They are therefore to be judged by
their settled state when they are composed, if they.
ever are so; or at least when they are nearer to re-
pose, and in their natural situation.
•
:
fortified by
Natural inclinations are assisted and fortified by Natural in-
education, but are scarce ever altered or subdued by clinations
it. A thousand souls in my time have shifted to- education,
wards virtue or vice in spite of a contrary discipline: but not
Sic ubi desuete sylvis in carcere clause
Mansuevere feræ, et vultus posuere minaces,
Atque hominem didicere pati, și torrida parvus
Venit in ora cruor, redeunt rabiesque furorque,
Admonitaque tament gustato sanguine fauces,
Fervet, et à trepido vix abstinet ira magistro.*
* Lucan. lib. iv. ver. 237.
changed
and extir
pated.
10
OF REPENTANCE.
The refor-
mations of
So beasts of prey, imprison'd in a cage,
Grow tame, abandoning their native rage
And threat'ning looks, and do themselves inure
The government of mankind to indure.
But if again a little blood they taste,
Their savage fury seizes them in haste;
They thirst for more, grow fierce, and wildly stare,
As if their trembling keepers they would tear.
Thus men palliate and conceal their original quali-
ties, but do not extirpate them. The Latin tongue
is as it were natural to me; I understand it better
than the French, but I have not used to speak it,
nor hardly to write it, these forty years; and yet,
upon some sudden agitations, which I have fallen
into twice or thrice in my life (and once upon seeing
my father, in perfect health, fall upon me in a faint-
ing fit), I always vented my first outcries in Latin ;
nature starting and forcibly expressing itself, not-
withstanding so long a discontinuance; and of this
there are many other instances.
They who in my time have taken a review of the
mankind manners of the age do, by novel opinions, reform
only relate seeming vices; but as for real vices they leave them
to exter-
pals.
as they were, if they do not augment them ; the
latter of which, it is to be feared, is the case. We
choose to disregard all other good actions on ac-
count of these external reformations of less cost
and greater merit, and thereby make a cheap atone-
ment for the other natural consubstantial and internal
vices. Look back a little on our own experience.
There is no man, if he be attentive, who does not
find in himself a particular and governing method of
his own, which struggles with instruction, and with
the tempest of passions that are contrary to it. For
my part, I seldom feel myself agitated by any shock.
I find myself, as it were, always in my place like
heavy unwieldy bodies. If I am not at home, I am
always near it. My debauches do not carry me
very far off. There is nothing strange nor extreme
in the case, and yet I have healthy and vigorous
OF REPENTANCE.
11
men com-
raptures. The true condemnation, and that which The repent
affects men's common practice, is that their state of ance of
retirement is full of filth and corruption, the idea of monly very
their reformation blurred, their repentance weak, corrupt.
and as much to blame almost as their sin. Some,
either for having been linked to vice, by a natural
propensity, or by a long habit, cannot see any de-
formity in it. Others (of which class I am) do in-
deed weigh vice, but they put pleasure, or some
other motive, in the other balance, and suffer and
yield to it for a certain price, but viciously and
basely; yet there might perhaps be imagined so vast
a disproportion of measure, wherein, with justice,
the pleasure would excuse the sin, as we say of pro-
fit, not only if it were accidental, and out of sin, as
larceny, but in the very exercise of sin, as in the en-
joyment of a woman, wherein the temptation is
violent, and it is said, sometimes, to be invincible.
Being the other day in Armagnac, at a seat which
belongs to a kinsman of mine, I saw a country fel-
low, that was by every one called the robber, who
gave this narrative of his life; that being born a
beggar, and finding that he would never be able to
get enough by his labour to support himself against
want, he resolved to turn robber; and, being a
strong man, had followed the trade all the time of
his youth with safety; for he gathered in his corn
and wine from other men's lands, but at a great dis-
tance, and in such great loads, that it was not to be
imagined how one man could carry off so much upon
his shoulders in one night as he did; and, moreover,
he was so careful not to do one man more damage
than another, that every particular man's loss there-
fore was of the less importance. He is now grown
old and rich for a man of his rank, thanks to the
trade he drove, which he makes no scruple to con-
fess to every body; and to make his peace with God
for his ill-got wealth, he says, that he is daily ready,
by his bounty, to make satisfaction to the successors
of those he robbed; and if he does not to every
12
OF REPENTANCE.
Mon-
taigne's
judgment
was the
common
guide of his
actions.
one (which it is impossible for him to do at once) he
will leave it in charge to his heirs to perform the
rest proportionably to the wrong he has done to
every one, which is what he himself only knows.
By this account, whether true or false, this man looks
upon robbery as a dishonest action, and he hates it,
but not so much as poverty. He barely repents of
it, but forasmuch as it was in this manner counter-
balanced and compensated, he repents not of it.
This is not that habit which incorporates us with
vice, and conforms our very understanding to it;
nor is it that impetuous wind, which, by its gusts,
disturbs and blinds our faculties, and for the time
hurries us, judgment and all, into the power of
vice.
It is my way to do what I do thoroughly, and all
of a-piece. I scarce make a motion clandestinely
and by stealth from my reason, and that is not con-
ducted in a manner by the consent of all my facul-
ties without division, or without any inward strug-
gles. My judgment has all the blame or all the praise
of it; and the blame it once has, it has always; for
I have had, almost from my infancy, the same incli-
nation, the same turn, and the same spirit: and as to
universal opinions, I fixed myself from my child-
hood in the same place where I was to stick. There
are some sins that are impetuous, prompt, and sud-
den; let us set them aside; but as for those other
sins so oft repeated, deliberated, and contrived,
whether constitutional sins, or sins of profession and
vocation, I cannot conceive that they have so long
been settled in the same resolution, without the con-
stant concurrence of the will and understanding with
the reason and conscience of the person who is
guilty of them and the repentance which he boasts
to be inspired with on a sudden is very hard for me
to imagine. I am not of the opinion of the Pytha-
gorean sect, that men assume a new soul when they
approach the images of the gods to receive their
oracles, unless they mean that it must be foreign,
12
OF REPENTANCE.
13
new, and lent for the time, our own showing so
little sign of the purification and cleanness fit for
that office.
ought to be
with real
They act quite contrary to the Stoical precepts, True re-
who indeed command us to correct the imperfections pentance
and vices which we know ourselves guilty of, but followed
forbid us thereby to disturb the tranquillity of our amend-
minds. These make us believe that they have great ment,
vexation and remorse within, but as for amendment
and correction, or discontinuance, they give no sign
of it; yet there cannot be a cure till the evil be
purged away.
If repentance were to be put into
one scale of the balance, it would out-weigh sin.
do not know of any quality so easy to counterfeit as
devotion, if the life and manners do not conform to
it. The essence of it is abstruse and occult, the
appearances easy and pompous.

I
not repent
form.
As for my part, I may desire in the general to be A man can-
what I am not; I may condemn and be out of hu- of his uni-
mour with my whole frame, and pray to God for an versal
entire reformation, and to excuse my natural infir-
mity; but this is what I ought not to call repentance,
methinks, no more than a disgust that I am not an
angel, nor a Cato. My actions are regulated by
and conformable to what I am, and to my condition,
I cannot do better; and repentance does not pro-
perly concern things that are not in our power. It
is rather regret. I conceive an infinite number of
natures, more sublime and regular than mine; yet I
do not amend my faculties, forasmuch as neither my
arm nor my mind will become a whit the more vigo-
rous by conceiving another's to be so. If to ima-
gine and wish a more noble way of acting than we
have would produce a repentance in us, we would
then repent of our most innocent operations, foras-
much as we well suppose that in a more excellent
nature they would be conducted with greater perfec-
tion and dignity; and we would wish to do the same.
When I consider my demeanor in my youth, and
that of my old age, I find that I have in general be-
14
OF REPENtance.
Why Mon-
not repent
haved with regularity as far as I know. This is all
that my resistance can avail. I do not flatter myself,
in the like circumstances, I would be always the
same. It is not a spot, but rather an universal tinc-
ture, with which I am stained. I have no notion of
a repentance that is superficial, modérate, or cere-
monious. It must sting me throughout before I can
give it that name, and it must pierce my heart as
deeply and universally as God sees into me.
In matters of trade many good opportunities have
taigne did escaped me for want of management, and yet I made
of the ma- a right choice according as occurrences presented
nagement themselves. It is my method to choose always the
fairs. easiest and the surest course. I find that in my past
of his af-
Counsel is
ent of e-
deliberations I have, by my own rule, proceeded
with discretion according to the state of the subject
proposed to me, and would do the same, were it a
thousand years hence, on the like occasions. I do
not consider the thing as it is now, but what it was
when I deliberated on it. The force of all counsel
lies in the time. Opportunities and affairs incessantly
fluctuate and change. I have, in my life, fallen into
some gross and important errors, not for want of
good judgment, but for want of good luck. There
are, in our affairs, some secret circumstances not to
be guessed at, particularly in human nature, certain
silent conditions that make no show, and are un-
known sometimes even to the possessor, which start
and spring up from incidental causes. If my pru-
dence could not penetrate into, or foretel them, I
am not disgusted with it: it is confined to its own
limits. If the event be against me, and favours that
side which I have refused, there is no remedy; I do
not blame myself for it: I accuse my luck, and not
my performance. This is not what we call repent-
ance.
Phocion had given certain advice to the Athe-
independ- nians, which was not followed; and the affair suc-
ceeding happily contrary to his opinion, somebody
said, Well, Phocion, art thou pleased that this af
vents.
OF REPENTANCE.
15
fair turns out so well? I am very glad, said he,
that it has so happened; yet I do not repent that I
advised otherwise.* When my friends apply to me
for my opinion, I give it freely and plainly, without
considering, as almost all mankind do, that the thing
being hazardous, it may fall out contrary to my
opinion, and then, perhaps, they may reproach me
for my advice; but this is what I am very indifferent
about; for they will be to blame for desiring that
office which I could not justify myself to refuse
them.
seldom
manage-
4
affairs, and
other per-
I scarce ever lay any mistakes or misfortunes of Montaigne
mine to the charge of another person: the truth is, took an
I seldom make use of another's advice, but only for other's ad-
the sake of civility and ceremony, unless it be where vice in the
I have need of instruction in any science, or infor- ment of his
mation of any fact. For in things where I have only seldoma
my judgment to make use of, other men's reasons gave his to
may be of some credit to support me, but of little sons.
force to dissuade me. I hear every thing favourably
and decently; but I do not remember that to this
hour I ever made use of any reason but my own.
With me they are but flies or atoms that hover about
my will. I lay no great stress upon my own opi-
nions, and as little upon those of other men.
tune rewards me justly. As I do not receive advice,
I give as little. I am seldom asked for it, and more
seldom trusted to; and know not of any under-
taking, either public or private, that has been the
better for my advice; even the persons, whom for-
tune had in any manner engaged to follow my direc-
tion, have chose more willingly to be guided by any
other head-piece than mine: and as I am a man
altogether as vigilant against the disturbance of my
tranquillity as the diminution of my authority, I like
it the better. By thus neglecting me, they humour
me in what I profess, which is to settle and wholly
For-
* Plutarch, in his Notable Sayings of ancient Kings, Princes,
&c. under the article Phocion..
16
OF REPENTANCE.
Was little
for events
coutrary tạ
contain myself within myself. It is a pleasure to me
to be disinterested in other men's affairs, and not to
be any way responsible for them.
All affairs when they are over, happen as they
troubled will, give me little concern; for the imagination,
that fell out that so it ought to be, puts me out of my pain.
his wishes, They are rolled about in the great revolution of the
and why. universe, and linked in the chain of stoical causes.
Your fancy cannot, by wish or imagination, move
an iota, either past or to come, which the order of
things will not totally overturn.
Made little
account of
As to the rest, I hate that accidental repentance
the repent- which old age brings with it. He, of old times,* who
ance owing said he was obliged to his years for stripping him of
old age. pleasure, was of a different opinion from me.
I can
purely to
never think myself beholden to impotency for any
good that it does me. Nec tam aversa unquam vide-
bitur ab opere suo providentia, ut debiliter inter op-
time inventa sit: "Nor can Providence ever be
"thought so averse to its own work that debility
"should be found among the best things." Our
appetites are rare in old age. A profound satiety
comes upon us after the act. I discern nothing of
conscience in this. It is chagrin and weakness that
imprint on us a languid phlegmatic quality. We
must not suffer ourselves to be wholly carried away
by the alterations of nature so as to debase our judg
ment. Youth and pleasure did not heretofore so far
blind me that I did not discern the face of vice in
pleasure; nor does that disgust which years have
now brought upon me, hinder me from discerning
the face of pleasure in vice. Now that my days of
pleasure are over, I judge of it as if they were not.
1, who strictly and attentively ransack my reason,
find it the very same it was in my most licentious
This was Sophocles, who being asked if he still enjoyed the
pleasures of love, made answer, Dii meliora: libenter vero istinc,
tanquam a domino agresti ac furioso profugi: "The gods have done
"better for me; and glad I am that I have lived to escape from the
“wild and furious tyranny of love." - Cic. de Senectute, cap. 14.
OF REPENTANCE,
17
age, if it be not perhaps a little weakened and im
paired by being grown old; and I am of opinion,
that as it does not permit me to embark in pleasure,
for the sake of my bodily health, it would not give
me more allowance now than heretofore for the sake
of
my soul's health. I do not reckon my reason the
more vigorous because it has nothing to combat.
My temptations are so shattered and mortified that
they are not worth its opposition, for with only
stretching out my hands I overcome them. Should
my former concupiscence be replaced in its view, I
fear it would not have so much strength to resist it
as it had heretofore. I do not find that it has any
other notion of pleasure now than it had then, nor
that it has acquired any new light; wherefore if
there be a recovery it is a scurvy one. Miserable
kind of remedy, where health is not to be obtained
without a disease. It is not for our misfortune to
perform this office, but for the good fortune of our
judgment. I am not influenced by injuries and af
flictions to do any thing but to curse them. This is
for people who are not to be roused till they feel the
scourge. My reason, indeed, acts with more free-
dom in prosperity, but is more distracted and harder
put to it, to digest misfortunes than pleasures. I
see best in a clear sky; health premonishes me with
more alacrity and more benefit than sickness. I did
all that I could to repair and regulate myself when I
had health to enjoy them. I would be ashamed and
vexed that the misery and misfortune of my old
age should be preferred before my good, healthful,
sprightly, and vigorous years; and that men should
judge of me, not by what I have been, but by what
I am now that I have as it were ceased to be.
f
city con-
In my opinion it is in happy living, and not in Wherein
dying happily, as Antisthenes said, that human feli- human feli-
city consists.
I have not aimed to make a monstrous sists, ac-
addition of a philosopher's tail to the head and body cording to
Montaigne,
of a libertine, nor that this wretched remainder of
life should contradict and give the lie to the plea-
C
VOL. III.
18
OF REPENTANCE.
What is the
wisdom of
old men.
santest, soundest, and longest part of it. I would
fain represent myself uniform throughout. Were I
to lead my life over again, I would live just as I have
done. I neither complain of the past, nor fear the
future; and, if I do not deceive myself, I have been
much the same within as without. I am principally
obliged to my fortune, that the course of my bodily
estate has been carried on in every thing in its sea-
son. I have seen it in its bud, blossoms, and fruit,
and now see it withered; happily, however, because
naturally. I bear the ailments I have the better as
they are at their crisis, and also because they give
me the more pleasing remembrance of the long feli
city of my past life. My wisdom also may, perhaps,
have been of the same pitch in both ages, but it was
more active and graceful, when young, sprightly, and
natural, than now that it is broken, peevish, and
painful. I therefore renounce those casual and dolo-
rous reformations. God must touch our hearts, and
our consciences must amend of themselves by the
aid of our reason, and not by the decay of our ap-
petites.
Pleasure is in itself neither pale nor discoloured
for being discerned by eyes that are dim and distem-
pered. We ought to love temperance for its own
sake, and in respect to God, who has commanded
both that and chastity. What we derive from ca-
tarrhs, and what I am obliged for to my cholic, is
neither chastity nor temperance.
A man cannot
boast that he despises and resists pleasure, if he does
not see it, and if he does not know it, together with
its charms, power, and most alluring beauty. I know
both the one and the other, I have a right to say it:
but it seems to me that in old age our minds are sub-
ject to more troublesome maladies and imperfections
than they are in youth. I said the same when I was
young, and when I was reproached with the want of
a beard; and I say the same now that my gray hairs
gain me authority. We call the crabbedness of our
tempers, and the disrelish of present things, wisdom;
OF REPENTANCE.
19.
=
but in truth we do not so much forsake vices as
change them, and in my opinion for worse. Besides
a foolish groundless pride, nauseous babble, froward
and unsociable humours, superstition, and a ridicu-
lous thirst after riches, when the use of them is lost,
I find in old age more envy, injustice, and malignity..
It furrows the mind with more wrinkles than the face;
and we never, or very rarely, see people who, in
growing old, do not grow sour and musty. The
whole man moves, both towards his perfection and
his decay. In considering the wisdom of Socrates,
and many circumstances of his condemnation,* I
dare believe that he indulged himself by prevarica-
tion, in some measure, for the purpose, seeing that
at 70 years of age he suffered such a rich genius as
his was to be almost totally cramped, and his wonted
brightness obscured. What metamorphoses do I
every day see made by age in several of my acquaint-
ance! It is a powerful malady, which creeps upon
us naturally, and imperceptibly. Deep study and
great precaution are absolutely necessary to avoid
the imperfections it loads us with, or at least to
slacken their progress. I find that, notwithstanding
all my intrenchments, it steals upon me one foot
after another; I bear up against it as well as I can,
but I know not what it will bring me to at last; but,
happen what will, I am content to have it known
what I was before I fell.
* If this be a conjecture only founded on Montaigne's sagacity, it
does him very great honour, for Xenophon tells us expressly, that
in truth, Socrates defended himself with so much haughtiness be-
fore his judges, only from a consideration that at his age death would
be better for him than life. This is the subject of the entire preface
to that defence made by Socrates before his judges.
C 2
20
OF FAMILIARITIES WITH
The chief
ability of
under-
CHAPTER II.
Of three Commerces, i. e. Familiarities with Men,
Women, and Books..
WE
66
E must not rivet ourselves so fast to our hu-
the human mours and complexions. Our chief sufficiency is to
know how to apply ourselves to various customs.
standing. For a man to keep himself tied and bound, by neces-
sity, to one only course, is but bare existence, not
living. Those are the most amiable tempers which
are more variable and flexible. It was an honourable
character of the elder Cato, Huic versatile ingenium
sic pariter ad omnia fuit, ut natum ad id unum diceres,
quodcumque ageret:* "He had parts so flexible to
every thing, that whatsoever he took in hand, a
"man would be apt to say he was formed by nature
"for that very thing only." Were I to choose for
myself, there is no fashion so good that I would care
to be so wedded to, as not to have it in my power to
disengage myself from it. Life is a motion uneven,
irregular, and various. A man is not his own friend,
much less his own master, but rather a slave to him-
self, who is eternally pursuing his own humour, and
such a bigot to his inclinations, that he is not able to
turn aside from, them. I speak it now at this time of
life, when I find it hard to disengage myself from the
uneasiness of my mind, by reason that it cannot
amuse itself generally, but in things wherein it is
embarrassed, nor employ itself because it is so
cramped and inflexible. It is apt to magnify a slight
subject, and stretches it to such a degree, as to re-
quire the application of all its strength. Its inac-
tivity is therefore to me a painful labour, and preju-
dicial to my health. The minds of most men require
foreign matter to quicken and exercise them; mine
* Tit. Liv. lib. xxxix. cap. 40.
MEN, WOMEN, AND BOOKS.
21
has need of it rather to compose and settle it, Vitia
otii negotio discutienda sunt: "The vices owing to
"sloth are to be shaken off by business;" for my
most painful, as well as principal study, is to study
myself. Books are one sort of those employments
that divert me from this study. Upon the first
thoughts, which come into my mind, it bustles and
makes trial of its vigour in every respect; exercises
its feeling quality, sometimes towards force, at other
times towards order and beauty, and then ranges,
moderates, and fortifies itself. It has in itself where-
with to rouse its faculties. Nature has given to it,
as to all other men's, matter enough of its own for
its benefit, and subjects proper enough both for its
invention and judgment.
:
tant em-
Meditation, for a man who can inspect and exert Meditation
himself with vigour, is a powerful and copious study. an impor-
I had rather frame my mind than furnish it. There ployment.
is no employment, either more weak or more strong,
than that of entertaining a man's thoughts according
to the state of his mind. The greatest men make it
their profession, Quibus vivere est cogitare: "To
"whom to live and to think, are one and the same

66
thing." Nature has also favoured man with this
privilege, that there is nothing we can hold out in so
long, nor any action to which we more commonly,
and more readily incline. It is the business of the
gods, says Aristotle, and that from which proceeds
both their bliss and ours.
tentive to
tion.
The principal use of reading to me is that, by the Montaigne
variety of subjects, it keeps my reason awake, and was inat-
employs my judgment, not my memory. Few con- frivolous
versations therefore please me, if there be not life conversa.
and power in them. It is true, that the gracefulness
and elegance of a speech captivate and engross my
attention as much, or more than the importance or
weight of the subject: and as I am apt to be sleepy
in all other conversation, and give but little atten-

* Senec. ep. 59.
† Cic. Tusc. Quæst. lib. v. cap. 38.
22
OF FAMILIARITIES WITH
Too deli-
cate in his
Conversa-
the gene-
tion thereto, it often happens that in such poor, low
discourse, and insipid chat, I either make drowsy,
stupid, and ridiculous answers, unbecoming even a
child, or else more indiscreetly and rudely maintain
an obstinate silence. I am on the one hand of a
pensive temper, which makes me absent from all but
myself; and on the other hand have a stupid and
childish ignorance of many common things. By
these two qualities I have obtained that five or six as
silly stories may as truly be reported of me as of any
other person whatsoever.
I
;
But to pursue my subject, this difficult temper of
mine renders me very delicate of what company
tion with keep, whom I am obliged to examine nicely, and am
rality of therefore unfit for common society. We live and
mankind. trade with the commonalty. If their conversation
be troublesome to us, if we disdain to apply our-
selves to mean and vulgar souls (and such are often
as regular as the most delicate, and all wisdom is in-
sipid that does not accommodate itself to the stupi-
dity of the vulgar), we must no longer interméddle
either with our own affairs, or those of other men
for those, both of a public and private nature, aré
dispatched with those people. The motions of the
soul, that are the least forced and the most natural,
are the most beautiful. Good God! what a vast ser-
vice wisdom does to those whose desires it reduces
within their power! There is no part of knowledge
more profitable. "As much as lies in our power,
was the favourite maxim and motto of Socrates. A
phrase of great moment this; for we must adapt and
divert our desires to things that are the nearest, and
most easy to be acquired. Is it not a silly humour
of mine to separate from a thousand, to whom for-
tune has joined me, and without whom I cannot livé,
and stick to one or two that are out of the sphere of
my correspondence? Or rather is it not a fantastical
desire of a thing which I can never recover? My
gentle behaviour, an enemy to all bitterness and
moroseness, may easily have secured me from envy
MEN, 23
僖
​WOMEN, AND BOOKS.
and animosity; for never man gave more occasion,
to be beloved I will not say, but not to be hated;
yet the coldness of my conversation has justly de-
prived me of the good will of many, who are not to be
blamed though they should put another and a worse
construction upon it.
passionate-
friend-
ships, but
fied to cul-
I am very capable of acquiring, and maintaining Montaigne
friendships that are exquisite and uncommon; for as ly fond of
I am eager to close in with such acquaintance as suit exquisite
my taste, I throw myself without reserve into their hi
arms with such rapture that I can hardly fail to stick not quali-
to them, and to make an impression where I fasten; tivate com-
and this I have often found by happy experience, mon friend-
To common friendships I am in some measure cold ships.
and indifferent, for my course is not natural if it be
not with a full sail; besides, my fortune having
trained me from my youth, and tempted me to love
one single and perfect friendship, it has indeed, in
some measure, put me out of conceit with others;
and too much imprinted it on my fancy that, as one
of the ancients said, such vulgar companions are the
beasts of the company, though not of the herd. I
have also a natural aversion to communicate myself
by halves, and with that modification, servile and
jealous prudence, which are prescribed to us in the
case of numerous and imperfect friendships. And
this is enjoined chiefly in the present age, when it is
impossible to speak of mankind without danger or
mistake.
know how
persons
Yet I plainly see, that he who has the conveni-How useful
ences (I mean the essential conveniences) of life forit is to
his end, as I have, ought to shun these difficulties to treat all
and delicacies of humour as much as the plague. I manner of
would commend a mind of various qualities, which with fami-
knows both to strain and slacken its vigour, that finds liarity.
itself at ease in all stages of fortune, a man that can
discourse with his neighbour about his building,
hunting, or quarrel, and that takes pleasure in chat-
ting with a carpenter, or a gardener. I envy those
who can condescend to a familiarity with the meanest
24
· OF FAMILIARITIES WITH
ourselves
lity with
those we
converse
with.
t
of their servants, and to hold a conversation with
their train of followers: and I dislike the advice of
Plato, that men should always speak in a magisterial
strain to their servants, whether male or female,
without being ever facetious or familiar.* For be-
sides what my reason tells me, it is both inhuman
and unjust to set so great a value upon that same
prerogative of fortune; and those governments,
wherein there is not so great a disparity admitted
between masters and their valets, seem to me the
most equitable. Other men study how to elevate
and exalt their minds; I to render mine humble and
lowly. It is only blameable in being too diffuse:
Narras, et genus Æaci,
Et pugnata sacro bella sub Ilio:
Quo Chium pretio cadum
Mercemur, quis aquam temperet ignibus
Quo præbente domum, et quotâ
Pelignis caream frigoribus, taces.t
Old Æacus you derive from Jove,
And tell what kin he had above:
You all the Trojan wars recite;
Who make baths, and who invite,
But not what Chian wine will cost,
Or yet a fire to warm in frost.
It is neces Thus, as the valour of the Lacedæmonians stood
sary to put in need of being moderated, and of the sweet and
on an equa- harmonious sound of flutes to mollify them in battle,
lest they should be guilty of temerity and fury,
whereas all other nations commonly make use of
strong and shrill sounds and voices, which excite
and inflame the soldier's courage to the last degree;
so methinks that, contrary to the usual form, in the
exercise of our minds we have more need of ballast
than sail, of coldness and calmness than of heat and
hurry. Above all things, it is my opinion, egregi-
ously playing the fool, to make a parade of wit
* Magisterial language to servants censured, De Legibus, lib. và
p. 972, edit. Francfort, 1602.
+ Horace, ode 19, lib. iii. ver. 2, &c.
MEN, WOMEN, AND BOOKS.
25
in the company of those who have none; to talk
always as it were in print, and to use a stiff quaint
style; or, on the other hand, Favellar in punta di
forchetta: "To affect a finical one like the ladies."
You must let yourself down to the level of those you
converse with, and sometimes too affect ignorance.
You must lay aside strength and subtlety of argu-
ment: it is enough to preserve decency and order
in common conversation; and as for the rest, crawl
upon the ground if they desire it. The learned are
apt to stumble at this stone; they always make a
parade of their superior talents, and scatter their
books every where; so that in these days they have Whether
so pestered the closets and ears of the ladies with women
them, that if they have not retained the substance, learned.
they have, at the least, the show of them, so that,
let the subject of their discourse be what it will, they
speak and write in a manner that is new and learned:
Hoc sermone parent; hoc iram, gaudia, curas,
Hoc cunctata effundunt animi secreta, et quid ultrâ?
Concumbunt dorkè.*
In the same language they express their fears,
Their anger and their joys, their griefs and cares,
And vent the secrets of their souls; what more?
In the same learned phrase they play the whore.
They quote Plato and St. Thomas in things for which
the first person they meet would be as good au-
thority. The learning that cannot penetrate their
souls, hangs on their tongues. If those of quality
will believe me, they would be content with their
own natural treasures. They conceal and cover
their own beauties under others that are foreign. It
is a great weakness to put out their own light to
shine by a borrowed lustre. They are interred and
embalmed alive by art, De capsula totæ : "Being
* Juv. sat. vi. ver. 188.
+ This is an expression of Seneca, which he applies to the petits
maitres of his times, "Nosti complures juvenes barbâ et comâ niti-
"dos de capsulâ totos," epist. 95. He tells us elsewhere of one of
these fops who, being carried by his slaves from the bath in a chair,
ought to be
t
26
OF FAMILIARITIES WITH
What
knowledge
+
"painted and perfumed from head to foot." It is
because they do not know themselves sufficiently.
The world has nothing fairer than they are. This is
their doing honour to the arts and painting, even
paint itself. What need have they of any thing but
to live beloved and honoured? For this they not
only have, but know too much. They need only
rouse a little, and give fresh warmth to their internal
faculties. When I see them studying rhetoric, law,
logic, and the like, which are so insignificant trifles,
unnecessary for their occasions, I begin to fear that
fear_that
the men who advise them, do it that they may there-
by have authority to be their masters. For what
other excuse can I find for them. It is enough that
they can, without our instruction, give the charms
of their eyes an air that is brisk, stern, or languish-
ing, that they can season a denial with severity,
suspense, and favour, and that they are not at a loss
for an interpreter of the speeches made for their
service. With this knowledge they govern with
a high hand, and rule both the regents and the
scholars.
If nevertheless they think much to give place to
branches of us in any thing whatsoever, and have a curiosity to
are fittest be book-learned, poetry is an amusement proper for
for the wo-their occasions, it being a wanton, witty, dissem-
men.
bling, and prattling art, all pleasure and all show like
themselves. They will also reap many advantages
from history. In moral philosophy they will be
furnished with lessons that will enable them to judge
of our humours and conditions, to defend themselves
from our treacheries, to regulate the precipitancy of
their own desires, to make good use of their liberty,
to lengthen the pleasures of life, and mildly to bear
the inconstancy of an humble servant, the rough-
ness of a husband, and the disagreeableness of age,
thought fit to ask them, whether or no he was seated? as if it was
a thing beneath his honour to know what he did himself without ask-
ing. Seneca de Brevit. Vitæ, cap. 12. I have not yet heard that
any of our petits maitres have come up to this Roman fop.
MEN, WOMEN, AND BOOKS.
2F
wrinkles, and the like. This is the utmost share
that I would allow them in the sciences.
tirement.
There are some particular tempers that are re- The good
tired and recluse. I am naturally formed for com-use of re-
munication and production. I am all open and
undisguised, born for society and friendship. The
solitude which I am fond of myself, and recom-
mend to others, is chiefly with no other view than
to withdraw my affections and thoughts into myself;
to restrain and check not my proceedings, but my
desires and cares, resigning all solicitude that is fo
reign, with a mortal aversion to servitude and ob-
ligation; and not so much to the company of men
as to the multiplicity of business. To say the truth,
local solitude rather expands and sets me at large.
I the more willingly embark in affairs of state and
the world when I am alone. At the Louvre, and in
the crowd of the court, I keep within my own
sphere: the throng makes me retire into my-
self, and I never entertain myself so wantonly, so
licentiously, and so singularly, as in places of re-
spect and ceremonious prudence. Our follies do
not provoke me to laughter, but our wisdom.
I am
constitutionally no enemy to the bustle of court. I
have spent part of my life there, and capable of be-
having cheerfully in great companies, provided it be
now and then, and at my own time. But that
effeminacy of judgment, of which I have been
speaking, necessarily attaches me to solitude; nay,
at my own house, in the midst of a numerous
family, and a house as much frequented as any, I
see people enough, but seldom such as I am fond of
conversing with. And I there reserve, both for my-
self and others, an unusual liberty. There is in my
house no such thing as ceremony, attendance, con-
ducting, and the like fatiguing rules of our courtesy.
(O! servile and troublesome custom!) Every one
there governs himself in his own way, let who will
speak his thoughts; while I am mute in deep medi-
•
28
OF FAMILIARITIES WITH
of the men
tation, and shut up in my closet, without any offence
to my guests.
Character The men, whose society and familiarity I covet,
whose fa- are those they call honest and ingenious men; and
miliarity is the idea of these puts me out of conceit with others.
seeking. This, if rightly considered, is the rarest of our
worth
Commerce
characters, and a character which is chiefly owing to
nature. The end of this commerce is simply private
friendship, frequent visits and conference, the cor-
respondence of souls without other advantage. In
our discourse, all subjects are alike to me.
I care
not whether there be weight or depth in it. There is
still a grace and pertinence in it. The whole is tinc-
tured with a judgment mature and steady, and
mixed with good nature, frankness, cheerfulness,
and friendship. It is not only in discoursing on the
affairs of kings and states, that our understanding
displays its beauty and force, but it shows it as much
in private confabulation. I know what my people
mean, even by their silence and smiles, and discover
them better perhaps at table than at the council.
Hippomachus said justly, that he knew good wrest-
lers by only seeing them walk in the streets. If
learning will please to bear a part in our conference,
it will not be rejected; not the magisterial, imperi-
ous, and impertinent kind, as is generally used, but
that which is subordinate and docile. All we in-
tend by it is to pass away the time, for at the hour of
being instructed and preached to, we will go seek it
in its throne. May it condescend to favour us for
this once if it please; for as useful and desirable as
it is, I suppose that, though we might want it, we
could well enough dispense with it, and do our
business without it. A person of good breeding,
and used to converse with mankind, will naturally be
agreeable to every body. Art is nothing but the
counterpart and register of what such souls produce.
The conversation of fine well-bred women is also
with wo- to me a sweet enjoyment. Nam nos quoque oculos
men.
MEN, WOMEN, AND BOOKS.
29.
eruditos habemus :* "For we also are versed in the
"art of ogling." If the soul has not so much enjoy-
ment in this as in the first, the bodily senses, which
likewise have the greatest share of this, reduce it to
a proportion near to the other, but in my opinion
not quite. It is a commerce however, wherein a
man had need be a little upon his guard, and espe-
cially those of a vigorous constitution, as mine is.
In my youth I got a scald by it, and suffered all the
torments which the poets say will happen to those
who run into this commerce, without order and
judgment. It is true this scourge taught me more
wit:
Quicumque Argoticâ de classe Capharea fugit,
Semper ab Eutoicis vela retorquet aquis.†
The ship that would not on Caphareus run,
Always is sure th' Euboean strait to shun.
be attended
It is madness to fix a man's thought wholly upon
it, and to engage in it with a furious and indiscreet
affection; but on the other hand, to be concerned It ought to
in it without true love, and without the attach- with since
ment of the will, like the comedians, to play a part rity.
that is made common by time and custom, without
contributing any thing of his own to it but words
it is indeed providing for his safety, but in as scan-
dalous a manner as he that abandons his honour,
or his profit, or his pleasure, from fear of danger.
For it is certain that from such a proceeding no
fruit can be expected to satisfy an honest soul.
A man cannot take real pleasure in the enjoyment
of what he has not in good earnest desired; and
this I say, though fortune should be so unjust as
to favour their dissimulation, which often happens,
because there is none of the sex, though as ugly as
the devil, who does not think herself very amiable,
who does not think herself preferable, either for her
youth, her hair, or her gait (for with the ugly wo

* Cicer. Paradox, v. cap. 2.
† Ovid Trist. lib. i, el. 1.
3Q
OF FAMILIARITIES WITH
men it is universally the same as with those that are
handsome); and the Brachman virgins, who have
no other recommendation, but that of the common
crier, who calls the people together, come forth
into the square to expose their matrimonial parts, to
try if these at least are not tempting enough to pro-
cure them husbands. Consequently there is not one
who does not easily suffer herself to be engaged by
the first vow that is made to serve her. Now, from
this treachery so common in the men of this age, it
must needs happen, as we have already seen by ex-
perience, that the women rally and reunite them-
selves on purpose to avoid us, or else form their
ranks by the example we give them, play their part
of the farce, and give way to this negotiation with-
out passion, care, or love. Neque affectui suo aut
alieno obnoxia:* "Neither slaves to their own pas-
"sion, nor to that of another person;" believing,
according to the persuasion of Lysias in Plato, that
they may with the more advantage and convenience
surrender themselves up to us, the less we love them.
The result will be as it is in comedies, where the
audience has as much or more pleasure than the
actors. For my part, I have no more notion of a
Venus without a Ĉupid, than of a mother without a
child. They are what mutually lend and owe their
existence to one another. Therefore this cheat re-
bounds upon the person that commits it; to whom
indeed it is of little or no expense, nor on the other
hand does he get any thing by it of value. They
who have made Venus a goddess, have taken notice
that her chief beauty was incorporeal and spiritual;
but the Venus whom these people court is not so
much as human, nor even brutal, but so very gross
and terrestrial, that the very beasts will not accept her.
We see that imagination and desire often heats and
stimulates them before the body does: we see in
* Tacitus's Annal. lib. xiii. cap. 45, where the historian speaks
only of the famous Poppea, the wife of Nero, the perfect model of
coquetry.
MEN, WOMEN, AND BOOKS.
21
both the sexes, that in the herd, they make choice
and trial of their affections, and that they have
among themselves an acquaintance of old good will.
Even those which old age has deprived of bodily
strength, do yet tremble, neigh, and twitter for love.
We see them before the fact, full of hope and heat;
and when the body has played its part, still tickled
with the sweet remembrance of it; and we see
some animals that swell with pride after the perfor-
mance, and being tired and satiated, do yet, by
vociferation, express a triumphant joy. He that
has nothing to do, but only to discharge his body of
a natural necessity, need to find employment for
another by such curious preparations. This is not
food for a coarse hoggish appetite.
taigne's
As one who does not desire to be thought better Mon-
than I am, I shall now tell of the follies of my taste in his
youth. I have seldom been addicted to mercenary amours.
and common embraces, not only for my health's
sake (and yet with all my care I had two mischances,
though they were slight forerunners), but also from a
contempt of what was vulgar and venal. I chose to
heighten this pleasure with difficulty, by desire, and
a certain kind of vanity: and I was of the emperor
Tiberius's mind, who,* in his amours, was as much
smitten with modesty and an honourable extraction,
as with any other quality; and of the taste of Flora,
the courtezan,† who never prostituted herself to less
than a dictator, a consul, or a censor; and solaced
herself in the dignity of her lovers. Certainly pearl
* Tacit. Annal. lib. vi. cap. 1.
+ After having turned over many books in search of Montaigne's
authority for this story, I found in Bayle's Dictionary that it is
Brantome, who in his lives, Des Femmes Galantes, tom. i. p. 313, -
&c. says, that the courtezan Flora was of a good family and lineage;
and that, whereas Lais was a common prostitute to all mankind,
Flora only obliged the great, insomuch that she had this inscription
over her door; "Ye kings, princes, dictators, consuls, censors,
"pontiffs, questors, ambassadors, and other great men, enter and
"welcome; but no others."
9
32
OF FAMILIARITIES WITH
Personal
beauties
and tissue, titles, and attendants, add something to
the pleasure.
As for the rest, I had a great liking to wit, provid-
preferable ed the body was not exceptionable. For, to confess
in amours the truth, if either of these two beauties must of neces-
the mind. sity be wanting, I would prefer the personal before the
to those of
Ofreading,
rational. The latter is of use in better things; but in
the subject of love, a subject in which the senses of
seeing and feeling are chiefly concerned, something
may be done without the charms of the mind, but
without those of the body nothing. Beauty is the
true advantage of the women, and so peculiarly
theirs, that what we have, though it requires other
features to render it such, is only in its best state
when it is puerile and beardless, and common with
theirs. It is said that those preferred to the service
of the grand signior, on the score of their beauty,
the number of whom is very great, are dismissed at
22 years of age at the farthest. Reason, prudence,
and the offices of friendship, are more commonly
found among the men; and therefore they govern
the affairs of the world.
The two sorts of commerce, or conversation,
or the third which we have mentioned, viz. that with men by a
versation. free and familiar conversation, and that with women
sort of con-
by love, are accidental, and dependent on another.
The one does not occur so often as is to be wished;
the other decays with age; so that they could
never have been sufficient for the necessities of my
life. That with books, which is the third, is much
more sure, and more within our power. It yields to
the former in the other advantages, but has con-
stancy and readiness of service for its sole share. It
accompanies, and is assisting to me wherever I
go:
it comforts me in old age and solitude; it eases me
of the weight of idle time, and delivers me at any
hour from disagreeable company; and it blunts the
edge of pain, if it be not extreme, and has not the
entire possession of me. To divert myself from an
MEN, WOMEN, AND BOOKS.
33**
uneasy thought, it is but to run to my books; they
presently drive it out of my mind, by turning its at-
tention to them: and though they see that I only
have recourse to them for want of other more real,
natural, and lively benefits, they do not reflect on
me for it, but always receive me with the same
countenance. "He may well go on foot," they
say, "who leads his horse in his hand."
up
And our
James, king of Naples and Sicily, who, while hand-
some, young, and healthy, caused himself to be
carried and down in a hand-barrow, upon a sorry
mattress, dressed in a vest of gray cloth, and a cap
of the same; yet attended in great royal pomp with
horse-litters, led horses of all sorts, gentleman and
officers; put on an austerity that was effeminate and
unsteady. The sick man is not to be pitied who has
his cure in his pocket. In the experience and
practice of this, which is a very true sentence, con-
sists all the benefit which I receive from books;
and yet in fact I make as little use of them, in a
manner, as they who know them not. I enjoy them
as misers do their hoards, by knowing that I have
them to use when I please. With this right of pos-
session my mind is satisfied, and at rest. I never
travel without my books, be it in time of war or of
peace; yet sometimes for several days or months, I
do not look into them. I will read by and by, I say
to myself, or to-morrow when I am in the humour.
Mean while the time runs away without any incon-
venience to me; for it is impossible to say how
tranquil and easy I am in this consideration, that I
have them by me, to divert myself with them when-
ever I please; and in the thought of what an assis-
tance they are to me in life.-This is the best via-
ticum I have yet known for this mortal pilgrimage,
and I extremely pity those men of understanding
who are unprovided with it; yet I rather accept of
any
other kind of amusement, be it ever so light,
because this cannot fail me.
VOL. III.
D
34
OF FAMILIARITIES WITH
The situa
tion of
Mon-
brary.
When I am at home I the oftener visit my library,
from which I at once survey all the operations of
taigne's li- my family. It is over the entrance into my house,
from whence I have a view under me of my court-
yards and garden, and of most of the offices of my
house. There I turn over one book, then another,
on various subjects, without order, and without
design. One while I ruminate, another while I
copy and dictate, as I walk to and fro, such whimsies
as these in my Essays. It is in the third story of a
tower, of which the first is my chapel, the second a
chamber with its closets, where I often lie to be re-
tired; above it is a great wardrobe. This was for-
merly the most useless part of my house. I there
pass away the most of the days of my life, and most
of the hours in the day, but am never there at night.
At the end of it there is a very neat closet, with
pleasant window-lights, and a fire-place. And
was I not more afraid of the trouble than of the ex-
pense, the trouble, which drives me from all applica-
tion to business, I could easily join to it on each
side, and on the same floor, a gallery of 100 paces in
length, and 12 in breadth; there being walls already
raised, though for another design, to the height that
is requisite. Every retired place should have a walk
in it. For if I sit still my thoughts sleep. My
fancy does not operate so well as when it is put in
motion by that of my legs. They who study with-
out a book are all in the same condition. The form
of my study is round, and has no more level than
what is taken up by my table and chair; so that I
have a view of all my books in five rows of shelves,
quite round me. It has three noble and free pros-
pects, and is sixteen paces in diameter. I am not
so constantly there in the winter, for my house is
perched upon an eminence, as its name imports, and
this part of it is most exposed to the wind, which
pleases me the better, for not being so easy of ac-
cess, and a little remote, as well for the benefit of
12
MEN, WOMEN, AND BOOKS.
--85
i
exercise as for being more retired. It is there that
I am in my kingdom, as we say; and there I en-
deavour to render myself sole monarch, and to
sequester this corner from all society, conjugal, filial,
and civil. Every where else I have but a verbal
authority, and of a confused essence. Miserable is
that man, in my opinion, who has no place at home
where to be by himself, to entertain himself alone,
or to conceal himself from others. Ambition
sufficiently plagues its proselytes by keeping
them always in show, like a statue in a market-
place, Magna servitus est magna fortuna:* “ A
great fortune is a great slavery:" those who pos-
sess it have scarce a retirement for the necessities of
nature. I have thought nothing so severe, in the
austerity of life which our friars affect, as what I see
in some of their fraternities; namely, to have a per-
petual society of place by rule, and numerous assis-
tants among them in every action whatever; and I
think it somewhat more tolerable to be always alone,
than never to be so.
pastime of
If any one shall tell me, that it is undervaluing The Muses
the Muses to make use of them only for mirth and are the
pastime, I shall say he does not know the value of sport and
pleasure, play, and pastime, so well as I do; I live the mina.
from hand to mouth, and, with reverence be it
spoken, I only live for myself; in that all my de-
signs terminate. I studied, when young, for the
sake of ostentation, afterwards for wisdom, and now
for my recreation, but never for gain. A vain and
prodigal longing I had for this sort of furniture, to
supply my own necessity, and to dress and adorn
me; but I have long since weaned myself of it.
་
•
veniences
attached
Books have many charming qualities to such as The incon-
know how to choose them; but there is no good
without its evil. This is a pleasure, not more pure to the
and untainted than others; it has its inconveniences, which
and great ones too. The soul is exercised in it, but books give.
* Senec. Consolatio ad Polybium, cap. 26.
pleasure
D 2
36
OF DIVERSION.
the body, the care of which I ought not to forget,
remains in the mean time without action, grows
heavy and stupid. I know of no excess more pre-
judicial to me, or more to be avoided in this my de-
clining age. Thus have I given you my three fa-
vourite, and particular occupations. I speak not of
the duties I owe to mankind by civil obligation.
The usefal❤
CHAPTER III.
Of Diversion.
I WAS once employed to console a lady who was
truly afflicted; for most of their mournings are af
fected and ceremonious:
Uberibus semper lachrymis, semperque paratis,
In statione suâ, atque expectantibus illam,
Quo jubeat manare modo.*
They always have a dam for present use,
Ready prepar'd whene'er they draw the sluice,
On least pretence of joys, or griefs, or fears,
To sally out in false dissembling tears.
It is going the wrong way to work to oppose this
ness of ad- passion, for opposition only provokes it, and makes
diversion them more sorrowful. The evil is exasperated by the
by way of warmth of argument. We see in common discourse,
ministering
comfort.
that what slips unguardedly from a man, if another
goes to controvert it, the former takes it in dudgeon,
and justifies what he had said; especially if it be a
matter wherein he is interested. Besides, in so
doing, you enter upon your work in a rough manner;
whereas the first visits of a physician to his patient
ought to be gentle, gay, and pleasant. Never did
an ill-looking sullen physician do any thing to
K
* Juv. sat. vi. ver. 272, &c.
OF DIVERSION.
37
•
purpose. On the contrary, therefore, a man must,
in order to make his way, sooth the patient's com
plaints, and express some approbation and excuse
for them. By this discretion you gain credit to pro-
ceed farther; and, by an easy and insensible grada-
tion, you fall into a reasoning that is more solid and
proper for their cure. I, whose chief aim it was to
deceive those bystanders who had their eyes fixed
upon me, thought fit to palliate the disease; though
indeed I find, by experience, that I have an awk-
ward and unlucky hand at persuasion. My arguments
are either too poignant, too dry, or too blunt and
lifeless. After I had for a while applied myself to
aer grievance, I did not attempt to cure it by strong
tnd lively arguments, either because I had them not
o use, or because I thought to gain my point better
another way; neither did I set about the choice of
the various methods of consolation prescribed by
philosophy; as that what we complain of is no evil,
according to Cleanthes ;* that it is a slight evil, as
the Peripatetics say; that to complain thus is neither
just nor laudable, according to Chrysippus; nor the
method prescribed by Epicurus, more suitable to
my taste, viz. shifting the thought from things that
are afflicting to those that are pleasant; nor like Ci-
cero, to make a collection of all these together, in
order to dispense them occasionally. But, by softly
weakening the force of my arguments, and turning
them by degrees sometimes to subjects nearer to the
present case, and at other times to those that were a
little more remote; as she attended to me, I insen-
sibly deprived her of her sorrow, and kept her calm
and quite composed as long as I was with her. I
diverted the complaint; but they who succeeded me
in the same service found no amendment in her, for
I had not gone to the root.
Perhaps I may have glanced elsewhere on some The method
kind of public diversions; and the practice of mili-
* Cic, Tusc. Quæst. lib. iii. cap. 31.
of divert-
ing the eno}
"
38
OF DIVERSION.
my, em- tary diversions, which Pericles made use of in the Pe-
ployed suc-
cessfully in loponnesian war; and of a thousand more such in
war and in other places, for drawing off the enemy's forces from
negotia-
tions.
How Ata-
a country, is too frequent in history. It was an in-
genious stratagem by which the Sieur de Himber-
court saved both himself and others, in the city of
Liege, when the duke of Burgundy, who besieged
it, made him enter into it to execute the articles
that were agreed to for the surrender. The towns-
people, who assembled in the night for that purpose,
began to mutiny against the agreement, and many
of them resolved to fall foul upon the negotiators of
it, whom they had in their power. He feeling the
gust of this first storm of the people, who were
about rushing into his quarters to kill him suddenly,
sent out two of the inhabitants of the city (for he
had some of them then present with him) to make
an offer to the town-council of fresh and more få.
vourable terms, which he had framed on the spot for
the present occasion. These two men diverted the
first storm, by the repair of the enraged rabble to
the town-house, to hear and consider of the subject
of their commission. The deliberation was short,
and so a second storm arose with as much fury as the
other; whereupon he dispatched four fresh media-
tors, of the same quality, protesting that they had
now better conditions to offer to them, and such as
would give them entire content and satisfaction; by
which means the people were again repressed. In
short, by thus diverting their fury with such a con-
trivance of amusements, as made them spend it in
vain consultations, by which it was at last laid asleep,
he spun out the affair to another day, which was the
principal thing he wanted.
This other story is also of the same stamp. Ata-
lanta was lanta, a virgin of extraordinary beauty, in order to
and there- disengage herself from a thousand or more suitors,
diverted,
·
* You will find this story at full length in the Memoirs of Philip
de Comines, lib. ii. cap. 3.
OF DIVERSION,
89
?
who courted her in marriage, proposed this condi- by defeated
tion to them, that she would accept of him for a hus- in a race,
band that should equal her in running, provided
that they who came short of her should be put to
death.* There were enough who thought the prize
very well worth such a risk, and who suffered the
penalty of this cruel bargain. Hippomanes, being
to take trial after the others, invoked the tutelar god
dess of his amorous passion, and implored her assist
ance, who, hearing his petition, furnished him with
three golden apples, and an instruction how to use
them. The field on which they ran being quite open,
as soon as Hippomanes perceived his mistress close
at his heels, he, as if by inadvertency, let fall one
of the apples, the beauty of which was so tempting
to the virgin, that she failed not to turn out of the
way to take it up.
Obstupuit virgo, nitidique cupidine pomi
Declinat cursus, aurumque volubile tollit.†
The nimble virgin, dazzled to behold
The shining apple rolling on the mold,
Stopp'd her career to seize the tempting gold.
He did the same, when he saw himself hard pressed,
by the second and third apples, till, by thus divert-
ing her, and making her go often out of her way,
he won the race.

sion of the
mind to o-
jects a use-
When physicians cannot purge off a catarrh, they The diver
divert and turn it to some other less dangerous part. on the
And I find also that this is the most ordinary practice ther ob-
for diseases of the mind. The mind, says Cicero, is ful method
sometimes to be drawn off to other thoughts, pur- for the cure
suits, cares, and occupations, and must often be of its dis
eured, like sick persons, by the change of place.‡
It gives a little jostle to a man's disorders; it nei
* "Præmia veloci conjux thalamique dabuntur :
"Mors pretium tardis: ea lex certaminis esto.'
Ovid, Met. lib. x. fab. 11. ver. 12, 13.
+ Idem, ibid. ver. 107, &c.
Cic. Tusc. Quæst. lib. iv. cap. 35.
orders.
40
OF DIVERSION.
It belongs
only to a
with death.
ther makes him sustain, nor diminish their attack,
and only makes him decline and turn out of the way
from it.
This other lesson is too sublime and too difficult.
Socrates to It is for men of the first class to pause upon, consi-
be familiar der, and judge of it. It belongs only to a Socrates
not to change countenance when he looks at death,
but to grow familiar, and to sport with it. He seeks
for no comfort but what he expects from that. To
die appears to him a natural and indifferent accident.
It is thereon that he fixes his sight and resolution,
without looking elsewhere.
What in,
disciples of
themselves
of life.
The disciples of Hegesias, who actually starved
duced the themselves to death, and were animated to it by the
Hegesias to fine language of his instructions, which was so pow-
deprive erful that king Ptolemy forbad him to entertain his
followers any more with such homicide doctrines ;*
those disciples, I say, do not consider death in it-
self, nor do they judge of it. It is not on that they
fix their thoughts; they run towards, and aim at, a
new being.
Whether it
a firmness
who
are going
scaffold
fits of de-
votion.
to
Those poor wretches that we see brought upon a
scaffold full of ardent devotion, and therein employ-
of soul that ing all their senses as far as possible, their ears to the
those instructions given them, their eyes and hands lifted
to die on a up to heaven, and their voices employed in loud
give way prayers, with a vehement and continual emotion, do
to violent things doubtless which are laudable and proper for
such a necessity. We ought to commend them for
their devotion, but not properly for their constancy.
They shun the encounter, they turn death out of
their thoughts, and amuse themselves with some
trifle or other, as children are amused when a sur-
geon goes to prick them with the lançet. I have
seen some who, when they have happened to look
down upon those dreadful instruments of death that
are near them, have fainted, and furiously turned their
thoughts another way. Those who are to be cast
* Valer. Max. lib. viii. cap. 9. Cic, Tusc. Quæst. lib. i. cap. 34.
1
OF DIVERSION.
41
Estancy of..
Subrius
was going
1
from a frightful precipice, are advised either to shut
their
eyes, or turn them to another side.
Subrius Flavius, the general, being, by Nero's The con-
command, to be put to death, and by the hands of
Niger, another general, when they led him to the Flavius,
place of execution, Flavius, perceiving the hollow just as he
that Niger had caused to be made for his neck to be exe
to be badly contrived, said to the soldiers who cuted.
were present," Neither is this according to
"military discipline." When Niger exhorted him
to keep his head steady, "Do you but strike,"
said he," as steadily."* And he was right in
his guess, for Niger's arm trembled, so that he
made several strokes at his neck before he cut off
his head. This man, indeed, seems to have had his
thoughts steadily fixed on the subject.
1
much of
duel.
1
He that dies in a battle, sword in hand, neither Whether
thinks, apprehends, nor considers of death, being men think
diverted from the idea of it by the heat of the battle. death in a
An honest man of my acquaintance falling down by battle ora
a thrust in a combat, and receiving nine or ten stabs
from his adversary as he lay stretched on the ground,
every one present called out to him to examine his
conscience; but he told me afterwards, that though
he heard what they said it nothing moved him, and
that he thought of nothing but how to disengage
himself, and be revenged. He killed his man in that
same rencounter. He who brought L. Syllanust
the sentence of his death did him very great service,
forasmuch as that having heard his answer,t "That
"he was well prepared to die, but not by the hand
"of an executioner," he rushed upon him with his
soldiers, when he, being quite unarmed, defended
himself obstinately with his fists and feet, till he re-
ceived so many wounds that he was killed, after
having, by this sudden frenzy, dissipated the painful
*Tacit Annal. lib. xv. cap. 67.
+ Tacitus calls him Lucius Silanus, Annal. lib. xvi. cap. 7,
Taçit. Annal. lib. xvi. cap. 9.
:
42
OF DIVERSION.
The diffe-
derations
which
apprehension of the lingering death for which he was
designed.
We always think of something else; either the
rent consi- expectation of a better life lays hold of us, and sup-
ports us, or the hopes of the valour of our children,
hinder us or of the honour that will be hereafter done to our
ing direct- names, or the escape from the evils of this world, or
Jy of death, the vengeance that threatens those who are the au
thors of our death. Poor Dido says,
from think-
:
Spero equidem mediis, si quid pia numina possunt,
Supplicia hausurum scopulis, et nomine Dido
Sæpe vocaturum.
Audiam et hæc manes veniet mihi fama sub imos.*
Sure, if the gods have any pow'r at all,
Split on the rocks, thou wilt on Dido call;
But all in vain; thy shipwreck I shall know
By fame convey'd me to the shades below.
Xenophon was sacrificing, with a crown upon his
head, when news was brought to him of the death
of his son Cryllus, slain at the battle of Mantinea.t
At the first, intelligence of it he took off his crown,
and threw it on the ground; but hearing, in the se-
quel of the narrative, how valiantly he fell, he took
it up, and replaced it on his head. Epicurus him-
self, at his death, is comforted by the consideration
of the utility and eternity of his writings. Omnes
clari et nobilitati labores, fiunt tolerabiles:‡ “ All
❝ works that are illustrious and renowned are to be
"borne with." And the same wound, the same
fatigue, are not equally intolerable, as Xenophon
says, to a general of an army and a common soldier.
Epaminondas died with much more cheerfulness
when he was informed that victory had declared for
him. Hæc sunt solatia, hæc fomenta summorum do-
* Virgil, Æneid. lib. iv. ver. 382, &c.
+ Valer. Max. lib. v. sect. 10.
Cic. Tusc. Quæst. lib. ii. cap. 25.
OF DIVERSION.
43
29
lorum: "These are the lenitives, these the fomen
"tations of the greatest sorrows. Other circum-
stances of the like kind amuse and entertain us, and
turn off our consideration of the thing in itself.
Even the arguments of philosophy are always edging
and glancing on the subject, without scarce touching
the exterior part. The greatest man of the chief
school of philosophy, which superintended the others,
I mean the great Zeno, forms these syllogisms with
respect to death and drunkenness. Nullum malum
gloriosum est; mors autem gloriosa est; mors erga
non est malum: + "No evil is honourable; but
"death is honourable; therefore death is not an
"evil." Nobody trusts a drunken man with a se-
cret, but any one will trust a wise man; therefore
no wise man is a drunkard. Is this hitting the mark?
I am pleased to see that these first rate geniuses can-
not divest themselves of their fellowship with us.
With all their pretended perfections, they are still
but stupid mortals.
;.
violent
Revenge is a sweet passion, and strongly im- The way to
printed in nature. I see it plainly, though I have dissipate a
no experience of it. To divert a young prince from longing for
it lately, I did not offer to say, that, to the man revenge.
who had smote him on one cheek, he should turn the
other also, in obedience to charity; nor did I endea-
vour to set before him the tragical events which poe-
try ascribes to this passion. I did not meddle with
his passion, but tried, for a fancy, to give him a re-
lish of the beauty of a contrary quality; and, by
representing the honour, favour, and good will,
which he would acquire by good nature, I gave his
mind a turn to ambition. Thus I carried my point.
ness of ma-
If your affection in the article of love be too The useful-
strong, disperse it, say they; and they are perfectly king such a
right, for I myself have often tried it with advan- diversion
tage. Break it into desires of various kinds, of in the pas
which, if you please, there may be one regent and love.
* Cic. Tusc. Quæst, lib. ii, cáp. 24, + Senec. epist. 82, 83.
sion of
44
OF DIVERSION.
4
It is possi-
ble to be
from one
:
paramount; but lest it should tyrannise and domi-
neer over you, weaken, and give it some pause, by
dividing and diverting it :
f
Cum morosa vago singultiet inguine vena.*
Conjicio humorem collectum in corpora quæque.†
When one amour engrosses all thy mind,
Discharge thy loins on all the leaky kind:
-
For that's a wiser way than to restrain
Within thy swelling nerves that hoard of pain.
And look to it in time, lest it prove too trouble-
some to deal with when it has once got possession of
you.
Si non prima novis conturbes vulnera plagis,
Volgivagaque vagus venere ante recentia cures.
Unless you fancy ev'ry one you view,
Ramble in love, and cure old wounds by new.
I was once disturbed by a strong passion, accord-
disengaged ing to my natural temper, though not so vehement
as just; and perhaps had been undone by it if I had
passion by merely trusted to my own strength. Having need
of another. of a powerful diversion to draw me out of it, I
the means
How time
grew
amorous by art and by study, wherein I was assisted
by my youth. Love relieved me and rescued me
from the evil, which was brought upon me by friend-
ship. It is the same in every other case. If a vio-
lent imagination possesses me, I think it the shorter
way to change than to conquer it, I depute one at
least different from it, if not contrary to it. Varia-
tion always relieves, dissolves, and dissipates. If I
cannot encounter with it, I escape from it, and, in
avoiding it, I slip out of the way, and use craft. By
shifting of places, business, and company, I hide
myself in the crowd of other amusements and senti-
ments, where it loses the trace of me, and wanders
out of my way.
In this manner nature proceeds, by the aid of in-
cares us of constancy; for the time she has given us for the so-
* Pers, sat. vi. ver. 73.
f. Lucret. lib. iv. ver. 1063, &e.
OF DIVERSION.
45
vereign cure of our actions, gains its effect chiefly
by reason that supplying our imagination with a su-
perfoetation of objects, it loosens and dissolves the
first apprehension, how strong soever. A wise man
visits his dying friend almost as much at the end of
twenty-five years as in the first year; and, according
to Epicurus, altogether as much, for he did not
think the foresight of troubles, or their duration, an
alleviation of them. But so many other thoughts
run across this that it languishes, and is at length
wearied out.
our pas
sions
Common
Alcibiades,* in order to take off the fondness of The way to
the people for common reports, cut off the ears and dissipate
tail of his beautiful dog, and turned him out of reports.
doors, on purpose to give them a subject for dis-
course, instead of prating of his other actions. For
this same purpose of misleading the opinions, con-
jectures, and conversation of the people, I have
also seen some women conceal their real affections
by such as were counterfeit. Nay, I have seen one
who has counterfeited so long that she has in good
earnest dropped the real and original love, and been
captivated by the feigned one: and by her I found
that they who know their affections well placed are
fools to consent to such a disguise. The public re-
ception and entertainments being reserved for such
pretended humble servants, a man may conclude
him to be no conjurer if he does not in the end put
himself into your place, and send you to his. This
is properly to cut out and make a shoe for another

to wear.
ther en-
A little thing disengages and puts us aside; for a A small
small matter engages us.
We do not consider sub- matter ei-
jects, in the gross, and single in themselves: we are gages or
smitten with minute and superficial circumstances, disengages
or images, and with the insignificant parings of
subjects:
* Plutarch, in the Life of Alcibiades, says, this dog cost him
700 crowns, and that his tail was his greatest beauty.
the
4
46
OF DIVERSION.
trifling ob-
jects the
desire of
life is kept
up.
re
Folliculos ut nunc teretes æstate cicade
Linguunt.*
Such as the hollow husks or bags we find
That butterflies in summer leave behind.
CC
ミ
​Plutarch himself laments† his daughter for the mon-
key-tricks she played in her infancy.. The remem-
brance of a farewell, a particular action or favour, or
of a final recommendation, afflict us. The sight of
Cæsar's robe troubled all Rome, which was more
than his death had done. The very sound of names
ringing in our ears, as, My poor master; my
very good friend; alas! my dear father; or my
"sweet daughter," affects us. When those repeti-
tions torment me, and I examine them closely, I
find it is no other than a grammatical complaint.
The word and tone affect me, as the exclamations
of preachers often work more upon their auditories
than their arguments, and as we are moved at the
pitiful cries of a beast that is killed for our service,
without my weighing or penetrating, in the mean
while, into the true and solid essence of my subject.
His se stimulis dolor ipse lacessit.
With these incitements grief itself provokes.
These are the grounds of our mourning.
The obstinate continuance of the stone, especially
By what those in my bladder, has sometimes been attended
with so long a suppression of urine, even for three
or four days together, and brought me so near death,
that it would have been a folly to have hoped to es-
cape it, or even so much as to have desired to
escape it, considering what I suffer from its cruel
The privi- attacks. What a monster of cruelty was that em-
minals tied peror, who, among other tortures, which he in-
up to stop vented for his criminals,§ suffered them to drink as
much wine as they could swallow, and then caused
ties of cri-
their urine.
* Lucret. lib. v. ver. 801, &c.
In a treatise, entitled, A Word of Comfort to his Wife, on
Death of her Daughter, chap. 1.
Lucan. lib. ii. ver. 42.
Suetonius, in the Life of Tiberius, chap. 62.
OF DIVERSION.
47
their privy members to be tied up so hard that their
urine might stop and kill them. Finding myself in
that state, I considered by what trifling causes and
objects imagination fed my desire of life, of what
atoms the weight and difficulty of parting with it
was composed in my soul, and to how many frivo-
lous thoughts we give way in so great an affair. A
dog, a horse, a book, a glass, and what not, were
reckoned in my loss: and others, with no less folly,
in my opinion, reckoned up in theirs their ambitious
hopes, their money, and their science. I look upon
death with indifference when I consider it as the end
of life universally. I insult over it in the gross, but,
when it comes to particulars, it harrows my soul.
The tears of a footman, the disposal of my old
cloaths, the touch of a friendly hand, a common
consolation, discourage me, and sink my spirits.
Thus are our souls troubled by the complaints in ro-
mance: and the regrets of Dido and Ariadne in
Virgil and Catullus raise a compassion, even in those
who do not believe them. It is a proof of an ob-
stinate hard heart, never to perceive it moved; as
they tell a wonderful story of Polemon, who is said
to have not so much as turned pale at the bite of a
mad dog, though it tore away the calf of his leg.*
Nor is it within the extent of human wisdom, to
have so lively and entire a conception of the cause
of sorrow, by judgment, as not to be increased by
his presence, when the eyes and ears are witnesses
of it, the parts which are only to be agitated by tri-
fling accidents.
median
Is it reason that even the arts themselves should The orator
make an advantage of our natural stupidity and weak- and the co-
ness? An orator, during the farce of his pleading, touched to
shall be moved by the sound of his own voice, and the quick
his feigned agitations, and suffer himself to be cap- their parts,
tivated by the passion which he represents. He will though in
imprint on himself a true and real grief, by means
* In his Life by Diogenes Laertius, lib. iv. sect. 17,
by acting
fiction.
48
OF DIVERSION.
A pleasant
diverting
of the part he plays, for the sake of transferring it
to the audience, who are yet less affected than him-
self; like those persons who are hired at funerals, to
assist in the ceremony of mourning, who sell their
tears and their sadness by weight and measure.
For though they act in a borrowed shape, yet, by
adjusting and habituating their countenance to the
occasion, it is certain that they are often entirely
swallowed up by it, and immerged in real melancholy.
I was one among many other of his friends, who at-
tended the corpse of M. de Grammont to Soissons,
from the siege of La Fere, where he was killed. I
observed that in all the places through which we
passed, we set the people a weeping and lamenting
by only the solemn parade of our convoy, for the
name of the deceased was not so much as known by
them. Quintilian says,* he had seen comedians so
deeply engaged in a mourning scene that they could
not help weeping when they went off of the stage;
and that, having himself undertaken to stir up a
passion in another person, he espoused it himself to
such a degree, that he not only shed tears, but waxed
pale, and behaved like a man truly overwhelmed
with grief.t
In a country, near our mountains, the women act
method of both the priest and the clerk; for as they magnify
one's grief. the loss of the deceased husband by the remembrance
of what good and agreeable qualities he had, they,
at the very same time, make a collection and procla-
mation of his imperfections, as if they would make
themselves some amends, and so divert their com-
passion to contempt; and yet, with a much better
grace than we do, who, at the loss of a prime ac-
quaintance, strive to give him new and false praise,
and to make him quite another man, when we have
lost sight of him, than he appeared to be when we
saw him, as if regret was a matter of instruction, or
that tears, by washing our understanding, cleared it.
+ Idem, ibid.
* Instit. Orat. lib. vi. cap. 2, at the end.
OF DIVERSION.
49
For my part, I henceforth quit claim to all favour-
able characters the world shall be disposed to give of
me; not because I shall be worthy of them, but be-
cause I shall be dead.
36
•
mere ima-
'without
the human
If any one asks another, what concern have you Vain ob
in this siege?" The interest of example," he will jects of
say, "and of the common obedience due to my ginations,
"prince; I aim at no profit from it whatsoever reality,
"and for honour, I know what a small share of it strike and
can redound to such a private man as I am: I determine
have in this neither passion nor quarrel." See mind.
him, however, but the next day, and you will find
him quite another man, chafing, and red-hot with
rage, in his line of the battle, for the assault, It is
the glittering of so much steel, the fire and noise of
our cannon and drums that has infused this fresh ran-
cour and hatred into his veins. A frivolous cause
you will say: how is it a cause? There needs none
to put the mind in agitation. A mere whimsy, with-
out body and without subject, governs and puts it in
motion. Let me think of building castles in Spain,
my imagination suggests to me conveniences and
pleasures, with which my soul is really pleased and
delighted. How often do we torment our minds
with anger or sorrow by such shadows, and plunge
ourselves in fantastic passions, which alter us both
body and soul? What astonished, fleering, and
confused grimaces, do such idle notions excite in our
countenances? What sallies and agitations do they
create, both of the members and the voice? Does
it not seem that this individual man has false notions
from a crowd of others, with whom he has dealings,
or some devil within him that persecutes him? In-
quire of yourself where is the object of this change?
Is there any thing in nature, man excepted, which
nothing sustains, over which nothing has any power?*
* The English translator, Mr. Cotton, for want of having seen
Angelier's edition of Montaigne in 4to, anno 1588, has mistaken
the sense of this passage, by wording it thus, "Is there any thing
“but us in nature, but subsisting nullity, over which it has power?"
VOL. III.
E
50
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
Cambyses, for only having dreamed in his sleep that
his brother was to be one day king of Persia, put
him to death, though he was a brother that he loved,
and always confided in.* Aristodemus, king of the
Messenians, killed himself, out of a fancy that a
certain howling of his dogs was an ill omen.t And
king Midas did the same, because he had dreamed
some disagreeable dream. It is taking life at its
just value to abandon it for a dream. Hear never-
theless how the soul triumphs over the wretchedness
and weakness of the body, and its being liable to all
injuries and alterations: and truly it has reason to
speak thus of it:
O prima infelix fingenti terra Prometheo !
Ille parum cauti pectoris egit opus.
Corpora disponens, mentem non vidit in arte
Recta animi primùm debuit esse via.§
Oh! 'twas for man a most unhappy day
When rash Prometheus formed him out of clay!
In his attempt, the heedless architect
Did indiscreetly the main thing neglect.
In framing bodies he had not the art
}
To form the mind, the first and noblest part.
:
:
CHAPTER IV.
On some Verses of Virgil.
Gay reflec. USEFUL meditation is the more embarrassing and
tions neces- burdensome by being copious and solid. Vice,
death, poverty, and distempers, are subjects that
are both grave and grievous. It is necessary for the
sary in old
age.
:
A phrase unintelligible, and only quoted lest many of his readers
should be led into the same mistake.
*Heródot. lib. iii. p. 196.
+ Plutarch's Treatise of Superstition, chap. 9.
‡ Idem, ibid.
§ Propert. lib. iii. eleg. 5, ver. 7.
12
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
51
mind to be well furnished with the means of sus-
taining and combating evils, and instructed in the
rules of a good life, and a right belief; and it should
be often roused and exercised in this noble study.
But, in an ordinary soul, this must be by relaxing
sometimes, and with moderation; for, if continually
bent to it, it will grow stupid. In my youth I found
it necessary to put myself in mind, and to solicit my-
self to keep to my duty. Gaiety and health, they
say, do not agree quite so well with these serious and
wise discourses. I am at this present time in an-
other state. The terms of old age only give me too
much warnings, preach to me, and make me grow
wiser. From an excessive sprightliness, I am sunk
into excessive gravity, which is worse. For that
reason I now suffer my fancy to run wild for the pur-
pose, and sometimes employ my mind in wanton and
juvenile thoughts, with which it diverts itself. I am
of late but too reserved, too grave, and too sedate.
Every day, at these years, admonishes me to be cool
and temperate. This body of mine avoids irregu-
larity, and dreads it. It is now its turn to guide my
mind towards a reformation. This too governs in its
turn, and more roughly and imperiously than the
other. It does not let me rest an hour, either sleep
ing or waking, from some instruction concerning
death, patience, and repentance. I now deny my-
self temperance, as I did formerly pleasure; for it
draws me too far back, and even to a degree of stu
pidity. Now I would fain be my own master in
every respect. Even wisdom has its excess, and has
as much need of moderation as folly; therefore lest
I should wither, dry up, and overburden myself
with prudence, in the intervals which my infirmities
allow me:

....
Mens intenta suis ne siet usque matis.*
Lest that my mind should evermore be bent,
And fix'd on subjects full of discontent.
* Ovid de Trist. lib. iv. eleg. 1, ver. 4.
E 2
!
52
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
Old men
should be
present at
I gently decline it, and turn away my eyes from the
stormy and cloudy sky that I have before me; which,
thanks be to God, I consider without fear, but not
without meditation and debate; and amuse myself
with the remembrance of the days of my youth :
Animus quod perdidit, optat,
Atque in præterita se totus imagine versat.*
The mind longs to regain what it has lost,
And by things past is totally engross'd.
Was it not the meaning of Janus's double face, to
signify that childhood should look forward, and old
age backward? Let years drag me on as they may,
but it shall be backward. As long as my eyes are
able to review that beautiful season which is expired,
I now and then turn them that way. Though it is
gone out of my blood-vessels, yet I am not willing
to root the image of it out of my memory:
Hoc est,
Vivere bis, vitâ posse priore frui.†
The man lives twice, who can the gift retain
Of memory, to enjoy past life again.
Plato prescribes to old men to be present at the
exercises, dancings, and sports of youth, that they
the pas may be pleased to see in others that activity and
exercises of beauty of the body, which in themselves is no more;
the youth, and that they may recall to mind the gracefulness and
times and
bloom of that flourishing stage of life: and he re-
quires that, in those recreations, they ascribe the
honour of the victory to the young man who has
given the best, and the most diversion and joy to the
company. I used formerly to mark dull gloomy days
as extraordinary; those are now my ordinary ones,
and the extraordinary are the serene, bright days.
I am ready to leap out of my skin for joy, as much
as if I had received a new favour when I had not a
right to one. With whatever vain fancies I please
* Petronius, p. 90, of the Paris edition, 1587.
† Martial, lib. x. epig. 23, ver. 7.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
53
*
·
myself, I cannot sometimes force one poor smile
from this wretched body of mine. I am only merry
in conceit, and, as in a dream, to divert by stratagem
the chagrin of old age: but surely it would require
another remedy than a dream. A weak struggle of
art against nature. It is a great folly to lengthen
and anticipate human inconveniences, as every body
does. I had rather be old, though it be for a less
time, than be old before I am really so.*. I seize And take
on even the least occasions of pleasure that come in every op
portunity
my way. I know well, by hearsay, several sorts of of enjoying
pleasures, which are prudent, manly, and honour-
able; but opinion has not power enough over me to
give me an appetite for them. I covet not so much
to have them gallant, magnificent, and pompous, as
I do to have them delightful, easy to come at, and
ready at hand. A natura discedimus: populo nos
damus, nullius rei bono autorit "We abandon na-
"ture to follow the popular taste, from which no
"good comes." My philosophy is in action, in na-
tural and present practice, very little in fancy.
What a pleasure should I take in playing at cob.
nut, or whipping a top!
Non ponebat enim rumores antė salutem.‡'
He was too wise
Idle reports before his health to prize.
It
Pleasure is a quality of very little ambition.
thinks itself rich enough, without any mixture of
reputation with it, and is best pleased in obscurity.
That young man who should pretend to a palate for
wine and sauces, ought to be whipped. There was
nothing which I less knew and valued, but now I
learn it. I am very much ashamed of it, but what
* Cicero's Treatise of old Age, chap. 10.
+ Senec. ep. 99.
This is a very pleasant application of a grave verse, quoted out
of Ennius by Cicero de Offic. lib. i. cap. 24, where that poet, speak-
ing of Fabius Maximus, says, that while he was acting for the
public good, he was indifferent to every thing that was said at Rome
to run down his conduct.
pleasure.
54
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL,
1
should I do? I am more ashamed and vexed at the
occasions that prompted me to it. It is for us to
dote and tell old wives' stories; but young men must
mind their reputation, and make a genteel figure.
Youth is advancing into the world, and into credit.
We are going out of it. Sibi arma, sibi aquos, sibi
hastas, sibi pilam, sibi natationes, et cursus habeant ;
nobis senibus, ex lusionibus multis, talos relinquant et
tesseras:* "Let them reserve to themselves arms,
"horses, spears, clubs, tennis, swimming, and
racing; and, of the many sports, leave dice, and
"draughts, and the chess-board, to us old men."
The laws themselves send us to our houses. I can
do no less in favour of this wretched state, into which
I am pushed by my age, than to furnish it with play-
things and amusements, as they do children, into
whose class we are also relapsed. Both wisdom and
folly will have enough to do to support and relieve
me, by alternate offices, in this calamity of age;
<<
•
Misce stultitiam consiliis brevem.†
Short folly mix with graver cares.
:
I also avoid the slightest attacks; for what would not
have scratched me formerly, now pierce me through
and through. My constitution begins naturally to
be so crazy; In fragili corpore odiosa omnis offensis
est: "To a weak constitution every injury is hateful."
Mensque pati durum sustinet ægra nihil.‡
And a sick mind nothing that's harsh can bear.
I was always of so delicate a constitution that the
least injury would hurt me; and I am now become
more tender, and more exposed on all sides :
Et minimæ vires frangere quassa valent.§
A crack'd pitcher is soon broke.
+ Hor. lib. iv. ode 12, ver. 27.
* Cic. de Senect. cap. 16.
Ovid de Ponto, lib. i. eleg. 5, ver. 18.
Ovid. Trist. lib. iii. eleg. 11, ver. 22.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
$5
My judgment restrains me from repining and
grumbling at the inconveniences I suffer by the law
of nature; but it does not take away my feeling.
Having no other view but a merry life, I would run
from one end of the world to the other in quest of
one year of pleasant and jocund tranquillity. I have
enough of that sort which is gloomy and stupid, but
it makes me sleepy and brainsick. I am not satisfied
with it. If there be any person, any good company
in country or city, in France or elsewhere, resident
or travelling, who can like my humour, and whose
humours I can like, let them but give a whistle, and
I will go and furnish them with essays fat and lean.
*
attached to
Since it is the prerogative of the mind to rescue The mind
itself from old age, I advise mine by all means to do too closely
it. Mean time let it wax green and flourish like the body.
misletoe upon a dead tree. I fear however it is a
traitor, because it has contracted so close a fraternity
with the body, that it leaves me at every turn to
follow the call of that. I flatter it, and deal with,
it apart, but in vain. I try, to no purpose, to break
the connection, by laying Seneca and Catullus be-
fore it, and the representation of court ladies and
royal masks. If its companion has the cholic, the
mind seems also to be afflicted with it. Even the
faculties that are peculiarly and properly its own,
cannot then lift themselves up, but plainly find them-
selves cramped. There is no sprightliness in its pro-
duction, if there be none at the same time in the
body.
of the
the ex-
Our teachers are in the wrong who, while they are The health
in quest of the causes of the extraordinary trans- and vigour
ports of the mind, attribute it to a divine extasy, to body is the
love, to a martial fierceness, poetry and wine, have cause of
denied the share of it due to health. A boiling, traordi-
vigorous, full, and idle state of health, such as uary sallies
formerly the verdure of youth and indolence fur- mind.
nished me with by fits; that fire of gaiety raises
lively clear flashes in the mind, beyond our natural
light, which are accompanied with the most fantas-
of the
56
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
Mon-
taigne's
character
tical, if not the most desperate enthusiasm. Now it
is no wonder if a contrary state of body sink and
clog my spirits, and produce a contrary effect:
Að nullum consurgit opus cum corpore languet :*
The man, whose body languishing doth lie,
Cannot to any work himself apply.
And yet would have me obliged to it, as it pretends,
for my opposing this agreement much more than is
common with mankind to do; at least, while we
have a truce, let us banish difficulties and mischiefs
from our commerce :
Dum licet,† abductæ solvatur fronte senectus.‡
Let even the wrinkles of old age be smooth'd.
Tetrica sunt amananda jocularibus: § "Sour
"chagrin must be sweetened with jocularity." I
of wisdom. like wisdom that is gay and courteous, and fly from
all crabbedness and austerity, having a suspicion of
every grim countenance. Tristemque vultus tetrici
arrogantiam:
>
Mon-
opinion of
Et habet tristis quoque turba cynædos.||
A dismal face oft hides a vicious heart.
I am sincerely of Plato's opinion, who says, that
good or ill tempers are a great indication of the
goodness or badness of the heart. Socrates had one
settled countenance, but it was serene and smiling;
not a settled gloominess, like that of old Crassus,
who was never seen to laugh. Virtue is a quality
pleasant and gay.
I know very well that few will quarrel with the
taigne's freedom of my writings, who have not more reason
those who to quarrel with the freedom of their own thoughts.
de the It is very humorous to play the severe critic on the
freedom of writings of Plato, and to pass slightly over his pre-
tended connections with Phoedo, Dion, Stella, and
shall cone
his writ-
ings.
* Corn. Gall. eleg. ii. ver. 125. In the original it is "et decet."
+ Hor, Epod. lib. ode 13, ver. 7.
Sidonius Apollinaris, lib. i. ep. 9, Heronio, towards the end.
Mart. lib. vii, ver, 9,
&
57
ON SOME VERSES OF VİRGIL.
Archeanassa. Non pudeat dicere, quod non pudet
sentire: “ Let no man be ashamed to speak what he
❝is not ashamed to think." I hate a froward pen-
sive temper, which skims over the pleasures of life,
and seizes and feeds upon its misfortunes, like the
flies that cannot stick to a body that is well polished
and sleek, but fasten and settle upon such as are
rough and knotty; and like the cupping-glasses that
only suck and draw the bad blood.
takes to
do.
As for the rest, I have made it a rule to myself to of the li-
dare to say all that I dare to do, and I am even dis-berty he
pleased at thoughts that will not bear the light. The say all that
worst of my actions and qualities do not appear to he dares to
me so foul as I find it foul and base not to dare to
own them. Every one is discreet in the confession,
and men ought to be so in the action. The boldness
of doing ill is in some measure recompensed and
restrained by the boldness of confessing it. Who-
ever will oblige himself to tell the whole, should ob-
lige himself to do nothing that he must be forced to
conceal. God grant that this excessive liberty I
take, may draw men to freedom superior to those
sneaking squeamish virtues that spring from our im-
perfections; and that they may be brought to the
standard of reason at the expense of my intem-
perance. A man must see and study his vice in
order to reveal it: they who conceal it from others,
commonly conceal it from themselves, and do not
think they commit sin secretly enough, if they them-
selves see it. They withdraw and disguise it from
their own consciences. Quare vitia sua nemo con-
fitetur? Quia etiam nunc in illis est: somnium nar-
rare vigilantis est:* "Why does no man confess his
"vices? Because he yet continues in them: it is for
a man who is awake to tell his dream." The dis-
eases of the body are better known by being in-
creased. We find that to be the gout, which we
called a rheum, or a strain. The distempers of the
CC
*Seneca, epist. 53.
58
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
soul, the stronger they are, keep themselves the
more obscure; and the most diseased have the least
feeling of them. We must, therefore, often bring
them to the light with an unrelenting hand, and
open and tear them from the bottom of our hearts.
As in doing good, so in doing evil, the mere con-
fession of it is sometimes a satisfaction. Is there any
deformity in doing amiss that can exeuse us from
confessing it? It is so great a pain to me to dissem-
ble, that I avoid being trusted with another person's
secrets, for I have not the courage to disavow my
knowledge of them. I can conceal it, but deny it I
cannot, without great pains and vexation. To be
very secret, a man must be so by nature, not by ob-
ligation. It is of little worth, in the service of a
prince, to be secret, if a man be not also a liar.
he, who asked Thales, the Milesian, whether he
ought solemnly to deny that he had committed un-
cleanness, had applied himself to me, I should have
told him that he ought not; for I take lying to be a
worse crime than the other. Thales advised him to
quite the contrary, bidding him swear,* in order to
shield the greater crime by the less: nevertheless
this counsel was not so much a choice, as a multipli-
cation of vice: upon which let us say this, by the by,
that we deal well with a conscientious man, when we
4
If
* Here Montaigne makes Thales say the very contrary to what he
really said; and this, by mistaking the sense of Diogenes Laertius,
the author whom he must have consulted for the answer :
“A man,"
says Diogenes, "who had committed adultery, having asked Thales,
"whether he might not deny it upon oath ?" Thales made answer,
"But is not perjury even a worse crime than adultery?" See
Diogenes' Life of Thales, lib. i. sect. 26. Perhaps Montaigre was
deceived by some edition of this author, where the note of interro-
gation was omitted after the last word, which, indeed, is an omis-
sion that I find in Henry Wetstein's edition, which, excepting that,
is very correct. But I am more inclined to think, that Montaigne's
memory, so wonderfully apt to fail him, as he himself confesses, has
bere played him a scurvy trick; for whatever construction he put
upon the words of Diogenes Laertius, it cannot be thence inferred
that Thales advised the man to take an oath for the sake of shield-
ing the greater evil by the less.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
59
choice put
propose to him some difficulty to counterbalance a
vice; but when we shut him up between two vices
he is put to a hard choice, as was the case of Origen, The hard
when it was put to his choice, either to turn idolater, to Origen.
or to suffer himself to be carnally abused by a great
Æthiopian slave that was brought to him. He sub-
mitted to the first condition, and, as it is said, vi-
ciously. Yet those women of our time, who protest
that they had rather burden their consciences with
ten men than one mass, would be allowed to be
women of taste, considering their error. If it be an
indiscretion so to publish errors, there is no great
danger of its being made a precedent and practice.
For Aristo said, that the winds, which men most
feared, were those that exposed them. We must
tuck up this ridiculous rag, which hides our man-
ners. They send their consciences to the stews, and
at the same time keep a starched countenance.
They espouse the laws of ceremony, and there fix
their duty; so that neither can injustice complain
of incivility, nor malice of indiscretion. It is pity
that every bad man is not also a fool; and that
decency should be a cloak for his vice. Such plas-
terings are only proper for a good substantial
wall, which it is worth while to preserve and white-
wash.
+
chose to be
In complaisance to the Hugonots, who condemn Why Mon-
our auricular private confession, I confess myself in taigne
public religiously and purely. As St.
As St. Augustin, confessed
Origen, and Hippocrates, published the errors of in public.
their opinions, I also discover those of my manners.
I am all agog to make myself known, and care not
to how many, provided it be truly; or, to say better,
I long for nothing, but I cannot bear to be taken
for what I am not by those who happen to know my
name. He that does every thing for honour and
glory, what does he think to gain by showing himself
to the public under a vizor, and by concealing what
he really is from the knowledge of the people?
Commend a crooked fellow for his fine stature, he

60
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
1
Why the
action
which
!
has reason to take it for an affront. If you are a
coward, and yet honoured for being a man of valour,
is it you whom they mean? They take you for
another person.
I should be as fond of that man,
who pleases himself with the compliments and con-
gees that are made to him, as if he were the head
of the company, when he is one of the meanest in
the train. Archelaus, king of Macedonia, walking
along the street, a person threw water on him, for
which, his attendants said, he ought to punish him.
"Nay, but," said the king," he did not throw the
66
water upon me, but on the man he took me to
"be." To one who informed Socrates, that the
people spoke ill of him, "Not at all," said he,
"for there is nothing in me of what they say." As
for my part, whoever should commend me for being
a good pilot, or very modest, or very chaste, I
should owe him no thanks. And in like manner,
whoever should call me traitor, robber, or drunkard,
I should be as little offended. They, who do not
know themselves, may feed their vanity with
false applause; but not I, who see myself, and look
into the very bottom of my heart, and very well
know what belongs to me. I am content to be less
commended, provided I am better known. I might
be reckoned a wise man in such a sort of wisdom as
I take to be folly. I am chagrined that my Essays
serve the ladies only as a common moveable, or
furniture for the hall. This chapter will advance me
to the closet. I love a little private conversation
with them; for that which is public, is without favour
and without savour. In farewells we are warmed
with a more than ordinary affection for the things
we take leave of. I take my final leave of this
world's joys. These are our last embraces.
But, to come to my subject, what is the reason
that the act of generation, an action so natural, so
necessary, and so justly the men's prerogative, what
has it done that people dare not speak of it without
excluded a blush, and that it should be excluded from all
brings us
into the
world, is
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
61
gular dis-¹
serious and regular discourse? We boldly pronounce from seri-
the words "kill, rob, betray," but the other we dare us and re-
not mention so as to be heard. Does it mean that courses?
the less we exhale of the fact in speech, we have the
more authority to swell it in thought? For it is happy
that the words which are least spoken or written, and
most kept in, are the best understood, and the most
generally known. Every age, all ranks, know them
as well as they do bread. They are imprinted in
every one, without being expressed, and without
voice and form. And the sex that is bound to say
least of it, does it most. It is an action which we
have lost in the sanctuary of silence, out of which it
is a crime to force it, instead of accusing and judg
ing it; neither dare we to lash it, but by periphrasis,
and in picture. A great favour to a criminal to be so
detestable that justice reckons it unjust to touch and
see him, and to be obliged to the severity of his con-
demnation for his liberty and security. Is it not the
case here as it is with books, which sell and spread
the more for being suppressed? For my part, I am
ready to take Aristotle at his word, who says that
bashfulness is an ornament to youth, but a reproach
to old age. These verses are the doctrine of the old
school, to which I adhere much rather than to the
modern, as its virtues appear to me greater, and its
vices less:
Ceux qui par trop fuyant Venus estrivent
Faillant autant que ceux qui trop la suivent.*
They err no less, who Venus too much shun,
Than those who to her altars always run.
Tu dea, tu rerum naturam sola gubernas,
Nec sine te quicquam dias in luminis oras
Exoritur, neque fit lætum, nec amabile quicquam.†
Thou deity, by whom all nature's sway'd,
Without whose power nothing can spring to light,
Or beautiful, or lovely to the sight.
* Verses, Amyot's translation of Plutarch, chap. 5.
+ Lucret. lib. i. ver. 22.
62
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL
are in a
great con-
nection
with Ve.
nus.
Pallas and I cannot imagine who could set Pallas and the
the Muses Muses at variance with Venus, and make them cold
towards love; for I know no deities that tally better,
or are moré indebted to one another. He who will
not own that the Muses have amorous, imaginations,
will rob them of the best entertainment they have,
and of the noblest subject of their composition;
and whoever shall deprive love of the communication
and service of poetry, will disarm it of its best wea
pons. By these means they charge Pallas, the god
of familiarity and benevolence, and the Muses, who
are the tutelar deities of humanity and justice, with
the vice of ingratitude and disrespect. I have not
been so long cashiered from the suit and service of
that deity, but my memory still retains its strength
and power:
•
Agnosco veteris vestigia flammæ.*
Of my old flame there yet remain some sparks.
Nec mihi deficiat câlor hic hyemantibus annis.
I have some heat left in my winter age:
Qual l'alto Egeo, perche aquilone o noto
Cessi, che tutto prima il volse e scosse,
Non s'achetta ei però, ma'l sono e'l moto
Ritien de l'onde anco agitate e grosse,†
As when a storm, which late with furious blast,
Th' Ægean ocean heav'd, at length is past,
While the high waves subside into a plain,
Soft undulations move along the main.
But, as far as I understand of the matter, the abili
ties and valour of this god are more lively and ani-
mated, by the painting of poetry, than in their own
essence:
Et versus digitos habet. ‡
And there's harmony in verse to charm a Venus.
* Virg. Æneid. lib. iv. ver. 23.
+ Tasso's Gierusalem Liber. canto 12, stanza 69.
‡ Juv. sat. 6, ver. 197.
ON. SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
63
Poetry represents a kind of air more amorous than
love itself. Venus is not so beautiful, stark-naked,
alive, and panting, as she is here in Virgil:
7
Dixerat, et niveis hinc atque hinc diva lacertis
Cunctantem amplexu molli fovet: ille repente
Accepit solitam flammam, notusque medullas
Intravit calor, et labefacta per ossa cucurrits
Non secus atque olim, tonitru cum rupta corusco
Ignea rima micans percurrit lumine nimbos.
Ea verba loquutus,
Optatos dedit amplexus, placidumque petivit
Conjugis infusus gremio per membra soporem.*
She said, and round him threw her snow-white arms,
And warm'd him, wavʼring, with a soft embrace.
He quickly felt the wonted flame, which pierc'd
Swift to his marrow through his melting bones;
As when in thunder, lanc'd along the sky,
A streak of fire runs streaming through the clouds.

This having said,
After the wish'd embrace, he sunk to rest,
Softly reclin'd, on his fair consort's breast.
love ba-
from mar-
All the fault I find in these lines is, that he has The tran-
represented her a little too much in rapture for a ports of
married Venus. In this discreet partnership the nished
appetites are not usually so wanton, but more grave riage, and
and dull. Love hates that its votaries should be why.
swayed by any motive foreign to itself, and is but
cool in such familiarities as are formed and main-
tained under any other title, as marriage is, wherein
it is reasonable to think that kindred and the dowry
should have as much, or more weight, than come-
liness and beauty. Men, say what they will, do not
marry for themselves; they marry as much, or more,
for the sake of posterity and their families. The
interest and usefulness of marriage concerns our
descendants far beyond our time; and therefore
I like the way of negotiating it by a third hand, and
by the judgment of others, rather than by that of
* Æneid. lib. viii. ver. 387, 392, 404, 405, 406.
64
ON SOME VERSes of virgil.
That love
to be found
the parties that are to be married: and how opposite
is all this to the conventions of love! It is a kind of
incest, as I think I have said elsewhere, to exert the
efforts and extravagancies of an amorous licentious-
ness in that venerable and sacred alliance. A man,
says Aristotle, should accost his wife with prudence
and modesty, lest, by dealing with her too wantonly,
the pleasure should make her exceed the bounds of
reason. What he says with regard to conscience,
the physicians say with regard to health, that plea-
sure excessively hot, lascivious, and frequent, cor-
rupts the seed, and hinders conception. But it is
said, on the contrary, that to supply a languishing
congress, as that is naturally, with a due and prolific
heat, a man should offer at it but seldom, and at
notable intervals.
Quô* rapiat sitiens Venerem interiusque recondat.†
I see no marriages that sooner miscarry, or are dis-
turbed, than those which are spurred on by beauty
and amorous desires. The foundations should be
more solid and constant, and they should be pro-
ceeded in with circumspection. This furious ardour
in them is good for nothing.
They who think to do honour to the married state,
is no more by joining love to it, are methinks like those who, in
in the mar-favour of virtue, hold that nobility is nothing else
ried state but virtue. They are indeed somewhat akin, but
in nobility. they differ very much; and therefore to confound
than virtue
their names and titles is doing wrong to both. No-
bility is a fine quality, and with reason introduced;
but, forasmuch as it is a quality dependent on an-
other, and which may fall to a man who is vicious
and good for nothing, it is far below virtue in estima-
tion. If it be virtue, it is a virtue that is artificial
and apparent, depending on time and chance, differ-
ing in form according to the various countries, living
* Montaigne has explained this verse enough before he quoted it.
+ Virg. Geo. lib. iii. ver. 137.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
65
and mortal, without any source more than the river
Nile, genealogical and common, of succession and
semblance, drawn by a consequence that is a very
weak one. Knowledge, power, bounty, beauty,
riches, and all other qualities, fall into communica
tion and commerce; but this is consummated in itself,
and of no use to the service of another.
There was
proposed to one of our kings the choice of two com-
petitors for a certain office, of whom the one was à
gentleman, and the other was not. The king ordered
that, without respect to quality, they should choose
him who had the most merit; but that when the
worth of the competitors should appear to be entirely
equal, then they should have respect to nobility.
This was justly to give it its due rank. A young
man unknown coming to Antigonus, to solicit that
he might succeed to the post of his deceased father,
a person of worth; he said to him, " In such prefer-
ments as these," my friend, "I do not so much
"regard the noble extraction of my soldiers as their
prowess."*.
And indeed it ought not to fare with
soldiers as it did with the king of Sparta's officers,
trumpets, minstrels, cooks, &c. who were succeeded
in their offices by their children, how ignorant soever,
in preference to those who had more experience in
the business.
..
66
·
nobility
are pro-
the king-
The people of Calicut exalt their nobility above To what
the human species. They are prohibited marriage, rank the
and every employment, but what is military. They arty
may have as many concubines as they desire, and moted in
the women as many panders without being jealous dom of Ca-
of one another: but it is a capital and unpardon- licut.
able crime to couple with a person of a meaner con-
dition than themselves: nay, they think themselves
polluted if they are but touched by one passing
along; and, as if their nobility was strangely injured
and wounded by it, they kill such as come but a
little too near them; insomuch that those who are
VOL. III.
•
* Plutarch of False Modesty, ch. 10.. ›
F
1
68
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
a good
marriage.
not noble are obliged to call out as they go, like the
gondoliers of Venice, at the turnings of streets, for
fear of running foul of one another; and the nobi
lity command them to step aside to what part they
please. By this means the nobility avoid what they
reckon a perpetual ignominy, and the others certain
death. No length of time, no favour of the prince,
no office, or virtue, or riches, can make a plebeian
become noble; to which this custom contributes,
that marriages are prohibited between families of dif-
ferent trades, insomuch that one descended from a
shoemaker may not marry a carpenter; and the pa-
rents are obliged to train up their children exactly
to the father's business, and to no other; by which
means the distinction and continuation of their for-
tune is kept up.
The idea of A good marriage, if there be such, rejects the
company and conditions of love: it endeavours to
display those of friendship. It is a sweet society of
life, full of constancy, trust, and an infinite number
of useful and solid offices, and mutual obligations.
No woman that has a true taste of it, or

A good
marriage,
the most
happy
state in hu-
man so-
ciety.
Optato quam junxit lumine tæda,*
who is married to her liking, would be willing to be
in the stead of a mistress to her husband. If she be
lodged in his affection, as a wife, she is then lodged
much more honourably and securely. When his
love is set upon and importunate for another object,
let any one but then ask him on which he had rather
a disgrace should fall, on his wife or on his mistress,
whose misfortune would trouble him most, and to
which of them he wishes most grandeur; such
questions admit of no doubt in a good marriage.
That we see so few good marriages is the greater
token of their value; if well formed and adjusted,
there is not a more beautiful scene in human society.
We cannot do without it, and yet we are continually
* Catul. de Coma Berenices, Carm. 64, ver. 79.
J
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL
67
1
running it down. Just so it is in the cages, where
the birds that are within are mad to get out, and
those that are without would fain get in. Socrates,
being asked whether it was most commodious, to
take a wife or not, made answer, "Let a man do
" which he will, he will repent of it."* It is a con-
tract, to which the common saying, Homo homini,
aut deus, aut lupus: "Man to man is either a god,
"or a devil," may very fitly be applied. There
must be a concurrence of a great many qualities to
constitute it. It is in this age fitter for mean and
vulgar souls, which are not so much under the influ-
ence of diversions, curiosity, and idleness.
Such wild humours as mine, which hates all sorts
of connection and restraint, are not so proper for it;
Et mihi dulce magis resoluto vivere collo.†
For liberty to me is far more sweet
Than all the pleasures of the nuptial sheet.
taigne
disposed
Might I have had my will, I would not have mar- Why Mon-
ried even wisdom itself, if she would have had me. married,
But we may say what we please; we are carried though
away by custom, and the common practice of life. very ill
Most of my actions are governed by example, not for it.
by choice and yet I did not comply with it pro-
perly. I was led and carried to it by strange occa-
sions. For not only things that are most inconve-
nient, but the most deformed, the most vicious, and
those to which we have the greatest aversion, may
become acceptable by certain conditions and acci-
dents: so vain is any human state. In reality, I was
persuaded to marriage at a time when I was worse
prepared for it, and more averse to it, than I am now
that I have tried it. And as great a libertine as I
am taken to be, I have in truth observed the mar-
riage-articles more strictly than I either promised or
expected. It is in vain to kick when a man is once
fettered. A man ought to use his liberty sparingly;
* Diog. Laert. lib. ii. sect. 33. Corn. Gall. eleg. 1, ver. 6.
F 2
68
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
Marriage
exempt
but after he has submitted to the marriage tie, he
must confine himself within the laws of the common
duty, at least endeavour it all he can.
They who enter into this contract with a view to
ought to be behave in it with hatred and contempt, act unjustly,
from ha- as well as unhandsomely; and equally harsh and inju
tred and rious is that fine rule which I find passes from hand
to hand among the women, like a sacred oracle:
contempt.
How Vir-
think a
marriage
Sers ton mary comme ton maistre,
Et t'en garde comme d'un traistre.
Serve thy husband like a waiter.
But guard thyself as from a traitor.
Which is as much as to say, behave to him with a
constrained, inimical, and distrustful reverence,
which is a style of war and defiance. I am too
mild for such rugged designs. To say the truth, I
am not yet arrived to that perfection of cunning and
complaisance, as to confound reason with injustice,
and to ridicule every rule and order that does not
agree with my appetite. Because I hate superstition
I do not immediately run into irreligion. If a man
does not always perform his duty, he ought at least
always to love and acknowledge it. There is trea-
chery in the marriage contract, if the affection of
the parties be not mutual. We will now proceed.
Our poet represents a marriage full of harmony
gil could and good agreement, in which however there is not
much fidelity. Did he mean to say that it is not
impossible for a person to yield to the importunities
be without of love, and yet reserve some duty towards mar-
fidelity. riage; and that it may be injured without being
of free
choice to
totally broken? A footman may happen to ride in
his master's boots, and yet not hate him. Beauty
opportunity, and destiny (for destiny has also a hand
in it),
3
Fatum est in partibus illis
Quas sinus abscondit: nam si tibi sidera cessent
Ñil faciet longi mensura incognita nervi.*
* Juv. sat. ver. 32.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
69
say
#
Fate, which the whole world rules, exerts its spite,
Ev'n in the parts conceal'd from common sight:
And if the stars to favour you should fail,
Your furniture of lust will not avail.
may have attached her to a stranger; yet not so en-
tirely perhaps but she may have some link of love
that still holds her to her husband. They are two
designs, which have distinct paths without being
confounded. A woman may yield to a man, whom
she would by no means choose to marry; I do not
from a dislike to his circumstances, but even to
his person. Few men have made a wife of a mis-
tress, but they have repented it: and, even in the
other world, what an unhappy life does Jupiter lead
with his, whom he at first intrigued with, and enjoyed
as a mistress? This is what they call disgracing, or
undervaluing a thing, in order the sooner to obtain
it. I have, in my time, known an instance where
love has been shamefully and dishonestly cured by
marriage. The considerations are too widely differ-
ent. We love two things which are not only differ-
ent, but contrary without any impediment. Iso-
crates said, that the city of Athens was liked just in
the same manner as the ladies of pleasure are.
Every body loved to take a turn thither, and to pass
away his time, but nobody liked it so well as to be
wedded to it; that is to say, to settle there, and
make it his home. I have been vexed to see hus-
bands hate their wives, only because they do them
wrong. We should not however love them the less
for our own faults; they should at least, upon the
score of repentance and compassion, be dearer to us.
They are ends that are different, and yet somewhat Difference
compatible. Marriage has for its share, profit, jus-
tice, honour, and constancy; a flat but more uni- and love.
versal pleasure. Love is founded on pleasure only,
and has it in truth more ticklish, lively, and acute;
a pleasure inflamed by the difficulty of attaining it.
There must needs be a sting and smart in it. It is
no longer love if it be without darts and fire. The
marriage
70
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
The severe
laws im-
the men
upon the
fore the
latter gave
bounty of the ladies is too profuse in the married
state, and blunts the point of affection and desire :
to escape which inconvenience, do but see what
pains Lycurgus and Plato take in their laws.
The women are not at all to blame, when they
posed by refuse the rules of life that are introduced into the
world, forasmuch as they were made by the men,
women be- without their consent. There is naturally a conten-
tion and brawling between them and us. The strictest
their con- agreement we have with them is even mixed with
tumult and tempest. In the opinion of our author
we deal inconsiderately with them in this. After
we have discovered that they are, without com-
parison, more capable and ardent in the feats of
love than we are, and that the priest of old testified
as much, who had been one while a man, and then a
sent to
them.
'woman:
Venus huic erat utraque nota.*
Tiresias had both sexes try'd,
Likewise, after we have learned from their own
mouths the proof that was given of the truth of this
by an emperor and empress of Rome, who lived at
different times, and were both famous for their supe
rior achievements upon this occasion; he for deflow-
ering in one night ten Sarmatian virgins, that were
his captives; and she for having really had twenty-
five bouts in one night, changing her man according
to her necessity and her fancy:
Adhuc ardens rigida tentigine vulva,
Et lassata viris, nondum satiata recessit.†
Still burning with the rage of furious lust,
Tir'd with enjoyment, but unquenched her thirst.
And, considering the quarrel that happened once in
Catalonia between a man and his wife, wherein the
latter complaining of his too frequent addresses to
her (not that I think so many as "made her uneasy,
for I belive no miracles except religious ones), as,
•
* Ovid Metam. lib. iii, fab. 3, ver. 23. † Juv. sat. 6, ver. 135.
ON SOME VERSES. OF VIRGIL.
71
under that pretext, to curtail and curb in this, which
is the very fundamental act of marriage, the autho-
rity of the husbands over their wives, and to show
that their frowardness and ill nature go beyond the
nuptial bed, and spurn under foot the very charms
and pleasures of Venus, the husband made answer,
like an unnatural brute as he was, that on fast-days
he could not content himself with less than ten
courses. Upon this came out a remarkable decree
of the queen of Arragon; by which, after the ma-
ture deliberation of council, this good queen, to
give a rule and example to all future times of the
moderation and modesty required in lawful mar-
riage, appointed the number of six in any one day
to be a legal and necessary stint; releasing and
quitting very much of the necessity and desire of her
sex, for the sake, she said, of establishing an easy,
and consequently a permanent and unchangeable
form; whereupon the doctors cry out, what the devil
must be the female appetite and concupiscence,
since their reason, their reformation, and their vir-
tue are taxed at such a rate, considering the different
judgment of our appetites? For Solon, the patron
of the law-school,* only taxed us at three times a
month, that this conjugal commerce might not fail.
After having, I say, both believed and preached
this, we go so far as to enjoin them continency for
their peculiar portion, and upon the most rigorous
penalties.
themselves
sion of
Though there is no passion more hard to contend Men give
with than this, we require that the women alone a loose to
should resist it; not barely as a vice, but an an exe-the pas
crable abomination, worse than irreligion or parri- love, and
cide? and yet we fall into it without blame or re-forbid it at
proach. Even those of us who have endeavoured the same
to master this passion, have acknowledged how dif- time to the
* Plutarch in his treatise, entitled, 'Egarixos, of Love, p. 769,
tom. ii. the Paris edition in 1624.
severely
women,
72
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
}
A
•
:
ficult, or rather impossible it is to subdue, weaken,
and cool the body by the use of material remedies.
We, on the contrary, desire 'constitutions that are
sound, vigorous, in good plight, well fed, and chaste
at the same time; that is, both hot and cold; for
marriage, which we say was enjoined us to hinder
them from burning, is little refreshment to them ac-
cording to our behaviour. If the women take a
man, the vigour of whose age is still boiling, he
will be proud of spreading it else where:

}
Sit tandem pudor aut eamus in jus;
Multis mentula millibus redempta,
Non est hæc tua, Basse, vendidisti.*
Bassus! for shame at length give over,
Or I to justice must my cause resign;
The goods with which you play the rover,
Were dearly bought, and are no longer thine.
The philosopher Polemon was justly prosecuted
by his wife for sowing in a barren field the seed that
was due to a fruitful one. If, on the other hand,
they choose decayed men, they will be in a worse
condition in marriage than maids and widows. We
think them well provided because they have a man
always with them; just as the Romans thought Clo-
dia Læta, a vestal virgin, to have been violated be-
cause Caligula approached her, though it was af-
firmed that he did no more than approach her. But,
on the contrary, we by this add to their necessity,
forasmuch as the contest and company of any man
whatsoever rouses their desire, which, in solitude
would be more quiet and it is likely that it was in
order to render their chastity the more meritorious
by this circumstance and consideration, that Boles-
laus and his wife Kinge, the sovereigns of Poland,
united in a vow of chastity, when in bed together
on their very wedding night, and kept it in spite of
the delights of matrimony.
Martial, lib. xii. epig. 99, ver. 10.
•
† Diog, Laert. in the Life of Polemon, lib. iii. sect. 17,
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
78
of the edu-
daughters,
▼
with a pas-
We train them up from their childhood to the ne- The whole
gotiations of love. Their beauty, their dress, their cation
knowledge, their speech, and their whole instruc-
tion tend only to this point. Their governesses im- tends to in-
-print nothing in them but the idea of love, if it spire them
were only by continually representing it to them, to sion for
give them a disgust to it. My daughter (the only love.
child. I have) is now of an age, wherein forward
young women are permitted by the laws to marry.
She is of a puny, tender, and delicate constitution,
and has been also brought up by her mother in a
private particular manner, so that she is but now
beginning to be weaned from her childish simplicity.
She was one day in my presence reading a French
book, wherein the word Fouteau* occurred, which
is the name of a tree, well known, viz. the beech.
The woman, to whose conduct she is committed,
stopped her short a little roughly, and made her
skip over that dangerous term. I let her alone, ra-
ther than break into their rules, for I never concern
myself in that sort of government. The polity of
the females has a mysterious train which we must
leave to them: But if I am not mistaken, a con-
versation with twenty lacqueys for six months,
would not so deeply have imprinted in her fancy
the meaning, application, and all the consequences
of the sound of those two wicked syllables, as this
good old woman did by her reprimand and prohi-
bition:
*
Motus doceri gaudet Ionicos
... Matura virgo, et fingitur artubus
Jam nunc, et incestos amores
De tenero meditatur ungui.↑
With pliant limbs the ripen'd maid,
Now joys to learn the wanton tread
Of dance Ionic, and to prove
The pleasures of forbidden love.
}
+
A word very similar in the sound to a term of lechery in the
French language.
† Horace, lib. iii. ode 6, ver. 21, &c.
$74
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
Moreover
is natural
;
Let them but dispense a little with ceremony;
this passion let them but enter into the freedom of conversation
to them. we are but children in this science compared to
them. Were you to hear them set forth our court-
ship and compliments, they give you plainly to un-
derstand, that we bring them nothing which they
did not know before, and had digested without our
assistance. Would you think with Plato, that they
were heretofore debauched when very young? I
happened one day to be at a place, where I could,
without being at all suspected, over-hear some of
the discourse that passed between them. What can
say of it? By our lady (said I) it is high time for
us to go and study the phrases of Amadis, and the
registers of Boccace and Aretine, to be able to cope
with them. We employ our time to good purpose
indeed. There is not an expression, an example,
or a proceeding, which they do not know better
than our books. It is a discipline that has its source
in their veins,
I
Et mentem Venus ipsa dedit.*
Venus herself did them inspire.
and which those good instructors, nature, youth,
and health are continually suggesting to their fancy.
They need not be at the pains to learn, they natu-
rally breed it:
Nec tantum niveo gavisa est ulla columbo,
Compar, vel si quid dicitur improbius,
Oscula mordenti semper decerpere rostro,
Quantum præcipue multicola est mulier.†
Not more delighted is the milk-white dove,
(Or any creature that's more prone to love)
Still to be billing with her mate, than is
Th' inconstant woman every man to kiss.
Insomuch, that did not fear and honour, of which
they have their share, give a little check to this na-
* Virg. Geo. lib. iii. ver. 267.
+ Catullus. Carm. lxvi. ver. 125, &0.
1
1
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
75
tural violence of their desire, we would become
scandalous. All the motion in the world is bent
and tends to this copulation; it is a matter infused
throughout the whole; it is a centre to which all
things point. We even find edicts of old and
wise Rome made for the service of love, and pre-
cepts of Socrates for the instruction of courtezans :
Nec non libelli Stoici inter sericos
Jacere pulvillos amant.*
The Stoics with all their gravity
Delighted to write on subjects of gallantry.
Zeno, amongst other laws, regulated the divari-
cations and motions in getting a maiden-head. What
was the signification of the philosopher Strato's
book of carnal copulation? And of what did Theo-
phrastus treat in those books which he entitled, one
the Lover, the other Love? And what did Aristip-
pus write of in his book of ancient delights? What
is the purport of those copious and lively descrip-
tions in Plato, of the amours of his time? and of
Demetrius Phalareus's book called the Lover? And
Clinias, or the ravished Lover, by Heraclides Pon-
ticus? And that of getting Children, or of Wed-
dings, by Antisthenes, and the other of the Master
or the Lover? And that of Amorous Exercises, by
Aristo? The two books, one of Love, the other the
Art of Love, by Cleanthes? The Amorous Dialogues
of Spherus? And the fable of Jupiter and Juno by
Chrysippus, impudent beyond all toleration? And
his fifty lascivious epistles? I choose to set aside the
writings of the philosophers of the Epicurean sect,
the protectors of sensual pleasures. There were
fifty deities in time past assigned to this office.-
There is a nation where to assuage the concupis-
cence of those who went to their devotion, they
kept strumpets in the temples for their enjoyment,
and it was an act of ceremony to lie with them be-

* Hor. Epod. lib. ode viii. ver. 15, 16.
76
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
►
fore the service. Nimirum propter continentiam,
incontinentia necessaria est, incendium ignibus ex-
tinguitur:" Incontinence is necessary for the sake
"of continence, as a blast is to extinguish a fire.”
•
声
​In the greatest part of the world this member of
our body has been deified. In one and the same
province, some flayed themselves for the sake of of
fering and consecrating a piece of their skin; others
offered and consecrated their seed. In another pro-
vince, the young men made public incisions between
the skin and the flesh of that part, and made seve-
ral overtures in it, through which they thrust splin-
ters, the longest and biggest that they could endure;
of which splinters they afterwards made a fire för a
burnt offering to their gods, being not reckoned
either over vigorous or chaste if they did but shrink
under that cruel torture. Elsewhere, the most sa-
cred magistrate was revered and recognised by those
parts; and in several ceremonies the image of them
was pompously carried in public procession to the
'honour of several divinities. The Egyptian ladies,
at the Bacchanalian feasts, wore one about their
necks carved in wood, exquisitely formed, as large
and heavy as each was able to bear; besides that in
the statue of their god, there was a representatión
of one which measured more than the rest of the
body.* The married women in my neighbourhood
represent the shape of it in the kerchiefs upon their
fore-top, by way of ostentation, for the enjoyment
they have had of it, and when they come to be wi-
dows they turn it behind and hide it under their
coifs. The most sage matrons at Rome were proud
of offering flowers and garlands to the god Priapus,
and the virgins at the time of their wedding were
seated upon his most criminal parts. Nay, I know
* Herodot. lib. ii. p. 122. Αἰδοῖον ἐ πολλῶ τέω ἔλασσον ἐν τῷ ἄλλο
☛alos:"A member which is not much less than the rest of the
"body." I cannot imagine why Montaigne took it into his head
here to improve upon the extravagant exaggeration of the Egyp-
tians.
J
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
·
not whether I have not in my time seen some such
air of devotion. What was the meaning of that ri-
diculous cod-piece worn by our forefathers, and by
the Swiss even to this day? To what purpose is the
display we make at this time of the form of our im-
plements under our gaskins; and often, which is
worse, by a false and imposing representation be-
yond their natural size? I can scarce help think-
ing, that this sort of garb was invented in the bet-
ter and more conscientious ages, that mankind
might not be deceived, by every one's giving an ac-
count of his talent in public. The most simple na-
tions wear them still with some resemblance to the
truth. In those days the workman was informed, as
he is now, of the measure of the arm or foot. That
honest man who, when I was but a youngster, cas-
trated so many fine antique statues in this great city,
for fear of corrupting the sight, according to the opi-
nion of that other honest old gentleman, Flagitii
principium est udare inter cives corpora:* "The cus-
"tom of appearing naked in public has introduced
' a depravity of manners amongst us," ought to
have considered, that as in the mysteries of the
Bona Dea every masculine appearance was excluded,
so it was doing nothing if he did not also cause
horses, asses, and, in short, all nature to be cas-
trated:
Omne adeo genus in terris hominumque, ferarumque
Et genus æquoreum, pecudes, pictaque volucres,
In furias ignemque ruunt.†
All creatures thus the raging passion find;
For whether they be those of human kind,
Beasts, wild or tame, fish, or the feather'd choir,
They're each inflam'd with wanton love's desire.
The gods, says Plato, have furnished us men with
an unruly tyrannical member, which, like a furious
* It was a saying of Ennius, quoted by Cicero, with this mark
of approbation," Bene ergo Ennius Flagitii," &c. Tusc. Quæst.
lib. iv. cap. 33.
+ Virg. Geo. lib. iii. ver. 144, &c.
78
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
animal, attempts to make all things subject to its
violent appetite; and they have also given the wo-
men one like a voracious and craving animal;
which, if nourishment be refused in its season,
rages, impatient of delay; and its fury working in
their bodies, stops the passages, hinders respiration,
and causes a thousand disorders, till, by having
sucked in the fruit of the common thirst, the bot-
tom of their matrix is plentifully sprinkled, and fur-
nished with seed.
Now my legislator should also have considered,
that perhaps, it were a more chaste and beneficial
practice, to let them know it betimes to the life,
than to permit them to guess what it is, according
to the freedom and warmth of their imagination.-
Instead of the real parts, they therein substitute
others that are three times more extravagant,
through their desires and hopes; and a certain
friend of mine was ruined by having exposed his,
when it was not yet proper to apply them to their
more serious use. Who knows what mischief is
done by those enormous pictures which the boys
draw upon the passages and staircases of the royal
palaces? From hence proceeds a cruel contempt of
our natural furniture; and how do we know but
that Plato, by ordering, after the example of other
well instituted republics, that both the men and the
women, old and young, should expose themselves
naked to one another in his gymnastics, had a view
to this? The Indian women, who see the men stark
naked, have at least palled their sense of seeing;
and though it is said by the women of the great
kingdom of Pegu (who have nothing to cover them
below the waist but a cloth slit before, which is so
scanty, that with all the ceremonious decency they
pretend to, all they have is to be seen at every step),
that this was an invention purely to allure the men
to them, and to draw off their affection from those
of their own sex, to which that nation is entirely
addicted; it
it may
be said, that they lose more than
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
79
they get by it, and that an appetite is not so sharp
to an object after it has been once glutted by the
sight of it. Also Livia said, that to a virtuous wo-
man the sight of a naked man is no more than that
of an image.* The Lacedæmonian women, more
virgins when wives than our daughters are, daily
saw the
young men of their city stripped naked at
their exercises, while they themselves were not over
careful to hide their thighs as they walked, thinking
themselves sufficiently covered by their virtue with-
out any fardingale. But they of whom St. Austin
speaks, have ascribed to nakedness a wonderful
power of temptation, by making it a doubt whether
women, at the day of judgment, shall arise again in
their own sex, and not rather in ours, that we may
not be again tempted in that state of holiness. In
short, we allure and provoke them by all manner of
means; we are incessantly heating and stirring up
their imagination, and yet we find fault. Let us
confess the truth; there is scarce a man of us who
is not more afraid of the shame accruing to him
from the vices of his wife, than from his own; and
who is not more solicitous for the conscience of his
good wife (marvellous charity!) than for his own;
who had not rather be guilty of theft and sacrilege,
and that his wife should be a murderess and a here-
tic, than that she should be as immodest as her hus-
band. An unjust estimate of vices this! Both we
and they are liable to a thousand corruptions, more
mischievous and unnatural than lasciviousness. But
we form and poise vices, not according to nature,
but according to our interest; by which means they
assume so many various forms.
The severity of our decrees renders the applica-
tion of the women to this vice more violent and vi-
cious than is consistent with the nature of it, and
involves it in consequences worse than their cause.
* Aíaros Tibigos, page 112, printed at Paris by Robert Stevens.
"
80
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
They would be glad to go to the courts of law for
gain, and to the field of battle for honour, rather
than, in the midst of ease and pleasure, to have to
do with what is so difficult to preserve. Do not
they see that there is neither merchant, nor lawyer,
nor soldier, who does not quit his business for the
pursuit of this? and the very porter and cobler too,
jaded and oppressed as they are with labour and
hunger?
:
Nunc tu quæ tenuit dives Achæmenes,
Aut pinguis Phrygiæ Mygdonias opes,
Permuture velis crine Licinnia,
· Plenas aut Arabum domos ?
Dum flagrantia detorquet ad oscula
Cervicem, aut facili sævitiâ negat,
Quæ poscente magis gaudeat eripi,
Interdum rapere occupet.*
Wouldst thou, for all that Achæmenes had,
Or all the Phrygian wealth before thee laid,
Or riches that in Arab's houses are,
Exchange one lock of dear Licinia's hair?
While to the fervent kiss her neck she plies,
Or with a pretty anger then denies
What she had rather you would snatch by far,
Than that you should desist out of despair.
1

Chastity in I question whether the exploits of Cæsar and
hard to be Alexander were performed with a resolution more
kept.
❤
inflexible than that of a beautiful young woman,
bred up in high life, surrounded by so many vicious
examples, and yet preserving herself inviolate in the
midst of a thousand continual and powerful solicita-
tions. There is no action more difficult, and yet
more vigorous than this not-doing. I take it that it
is more easy for a person to wear a suit of armour all
the days of one's life than a maidenhead; and the
vow of virginity is of all others the most noble, as
being the most burdensome. St. Jerom says, Diaboli
virtus in lumbis est.
* Horace, lib. ii. ode 12, ver. 21, &c.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
81
to be an en-
women to
We have certainly resigned the most arduous, and What ought
the most vigorous of human endeavours to the la-courage-
dies; and let them by all means have the honour of ment to the
it. This ought to be a singular spur to excite them take great
to hold it out obstinately. It is a fine subject for care of it.
them to brave us, and to trample under foot that
vain pre-eminence in valour and virtue which we pre-
tend to over them. They will find that, if they do
but keep a guard upon themselves, they will not only
be the more esteemed, but the better beloved for it.
A gallant gentleman does not abandon his pursuit
because he has met with a denial, provided it be a
denial from chastity, and not from aversion. We
may swear, threaten, and complain, as much as we
will ; we lie all the while; for we love them the bet-
ter for it. There is no allurement like modesty, if
it be not with harsh treatment and sour looks. It is
stupidity and meanness to be obstinate against hatred
and contempt; but against a virtuous and steady re-
solution, accompanied with a grateful principle, it is
the exercise of a noble and generous soul. The la-
dies may acknowledge our services to a certain de-
gree, and give us civilly to understand that they do
not disdain us; for the law which enjoins them to
abhor us because we adore them, and hate us be-
cause we love them, is certainly a cruel one, were
it only for the difficulty of complying with it. Why
will they not hear our offers and demands as long as
they are circumscribed within the bounds of modesty?
Wherefore should we guess that they have a freer
meaning to themselves? A certain queen of our
time said ingenuously, that to refuse these advantages
is a testimony of weakness in a woman, and an im-
peachment of her own readiness; and that no lady
could boast of her chastity who had not been
tempted. The limits of honour are not so straitened
but it may relax itself a little, and may be dispensed
with in some measure without a forfeiture. There
lies before its frontier some space free, indifferent,
and neuter. He that has drove it by force into its
VOL. III.
G
82
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
own nook and fort, is a simpleton if he be not satis-
fied with his fortune. The value of the conquest is
considered by the difficulty of it. Would you know
what impression your service, and your merit, have
made upon her heart, measure it by her behaviour.
There are some women perhaps who may grant more
that do not grant so much. The obligation of a be-
nefit is altogether connected with the will of the per-
son that grants it, the other circumstances coin-
cident with the favour being dumb, dead, and ca-
sual. It costs her dearer to grant you that little than
it would her companion to grant her all. If in any
thing rarity enhances the value, it ought in this. Do
not consider how little it is that is given, but how
few have it to give. The value of money varies ac-
cording to the coin, and stamp of the place. What-
ever the spite and indiscretion of some persons may
make them say as to the excess of their discontent,
virtue and truth will always regain their advantage,
I have known some who, after their reputation had for
a long time been blasted, have regained the universal
approbation of mankind merely by their constancy,
without any care or art; after which every one re-
pented, and recanted what he had believed; and
from maids that were a little suspected, they have
afterwards held the first rank among the ladies of ho
nour. Somebody said to Plato, that all the world
spoke ill of him; "Let them say what they will,"
said he, "I will live so as to make them change
"their note." Besides the fear of God, and the
value of a renown so uncommon, which ought to in-
cite them to take care of themselves, the corruption
of this age compels them to it: and if I was in their
place, there is nothing that I would not do rather
than trust my reputation in such dangerous hands.
I remember formerly that the pleasure of telling (a
pleasure little inferior to that of doing) was only
indulged to be communicated to one entire faithful
friend; whereas now, boasting of favours received,
and of the secret liberality of the ladies, has a great
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
83
share in the common table-talk and conversation at
assemblies. In truth, it is an argument of too ab-
ject and too mean a spirit, to suffer those tender
and obliging favours to be so insolently persecuted,
rummaged, and ransacked by persons so ungrateful,
indiscreet, and inconstant.
This our immoderate and unwarrantable exaspera- The unrea-
tion against this vice of incontinence arises from the sonable.
most trifling and tempestuous disease that afflicts the lousy.
human mind, which is jealousy:
Quis vetat apposito lumen de lumine sumi?
Dent licet assidue, nil tamen inde perit.*
Although a torch should lend its flame
To give another light,
Its lustre still remains the same,
And shows as fair and bright.
That passion, and its sister, envy, seem to be the
most silly of all the tribe. As to the latter, I can
say but little of it. It is a passion, though it is re-
presented so strong and powerful, which, thanks to
it, has no room in my breast. As to the former, I
have some knowledge of it, at least by sight. The
very beasts feel it. Chratis, the shepherd, having
fallen in love with a she-goat, the male, while the
shepherd was asleep, went, in a fit of jealousy, and
butted him with its head till it beat out his brains.t
ness of jea-
of men and
nations
We have carried this passion to as great an excess The wisest
as some of the barbarous nations. The best disci- of
plined of them have been tainted with it, and with have been
reason, but not transported to fury by it:
Ense maritali nemo confossus adulter
Purpureo Stygias sanguine tinxit aquas.‡
Ne'er did adulterer, by the husband slain,
With purple blood the Stygian waters stain.
* The sense of the last verse is in Ovid's Arte Amandi, lib. iii.
ver. 93, but Montaigne has taken the words from an epigram, en-
titled, Priapus in Veterum Poetarum Catalectis, which begins thus,
"Obscure poteram tibi dicere, da mihi quod tu
"Des licet assidue, nil tamen inde perit.
† Ælian. lib. xii. cap. 42, of his Treatise of Animals.
‡ Oxid,
the least
touched
with this
passion.
G 2
$4
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
Vulcan not
lous of his
Lucullus, Cæsar, Pompey, Antony, Cato, and other
brave men, were cuckolds, and knew it without
making any disturbance about it; and in those times
there was but one fool, Lepidus, who broke his heart
upon it:*
Ah tum te miserum malique fati,
Quem attractis pedibus patente portâ,
Percurrent mugilesque raphanique.†
Wretched will then be thy malignant fate,
When by the heels they drag thee from the gate,
Through show'rs of rotten roots and stinking scate.
And the God of our poet, when he surprised one
very jea of her gallants with his wife, satisfied himself with
only putting them to shame :
wife
Venus.
Atque alignis de diis non tristibus optat
Sic fieri turpes.‡
One of the gods, to merriment dispos'd,
Seeing the lovers in the net inclos'd,
Wish'd that he had to shame been so expos'd.
Yet he takes fire at the soft caresses with which she
accosts him, complaining that she thereby showed a
jealousy of his affection:
Quid causas petis ex alto? fiducia cessit
Quò tibi, diva, mei? §
Why are, my goddess, all these reasons tried?
Say why in me no longer you confide?
Nay, she desires armour of him for her bastard:
Arma rogo, genitrix nato.||
The mother for her son does armour crave.
*The father of one of the triumvirate, who died, says Plutarch,
having broke his heart, not so much by the distress of his affairs,
as by a discovery he made from a letter which fell into his hands
that his wife had forfeited her honour. The Life of Pompey, ch. 5
of Amyot's translation.
+ This was a punishment, more infamous than fatal, inflicted on
adulterers when they were taken in the fact, Catull. to Aurelius,
carm. 16, ver. 17, &c.
Ovid's Met. lib. iv. fab. 5, ver. 21, 22.
Virg. Æneid, lib. viii. ver. 395.
|| Idem, ver. 383.
12
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
85
Which is freely granted; and Vulcan speaks ho
nourably of Æneas:
Arma acri facienda viro.*
Armour must for a valiant man be made.
I consent to leave this excess of goodness to the
gods:
Nec divis homines componere æquum`est.†
Nor is it fit to equal men with gods.
As to the confounding of children, besides that the
gravest legislators ordain and affect it in their re-
publics, it does not concern the women, in whom
this passion of jealousy is, I know not how, still
more firmly established:
·Sæpe etiam Juno maxima calciolum
Conjugis in culpa flagravit quotidiana.‡
And Juno, with fierce jealousy inflam'd,
Her husband's daily slips has often blam'd.
:
tortured by
odious they
when they
When jealousy seizes these poor weak souls, in- How the
capable of making resistance, it is pity to see how women are
cruelly it drags them on, and tyrannises over them.jealousy,
It insinuates itself into them under the colour of and how
friendship, but after it has once possessed them, the become
same causes which served for a foundation of good abandon
will, serve as a foundation of moral hatred. Of all themselves
the distempers of the mind it is that which most passion.
things contribute to nourish, and fewest to remedy.
the virtue, health, merit, the reputation of the hus-
band, stimulate their spite and rage;
Nullæ sunt inimicitiæ nisi amoris acerbæ.§
No enmities so keen as those of love,
This fever defaces and corrupts all that they have of
the beautiful and good in other respects; and there is
no action of a jealous woman, be she ever so chaste,
* Virg. Æneid. lib. viii. ver. 441,
+ Catullus ad Mantium, carm. 66, ver. 141.
‡ Idem, ibid. ver. 138, 139. § Propertius, lib. ii. eleg. 8, ver. iik
to this
86
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
The obli-
gation to
chastity
hard to
observe.
and ever so good a housewife, that does not savour
of sourness and impertinence. It is a furious agita-
tion that throws them back to an extremity quite
contrary to its cause. This was but too plainly
verified by one Octavius,* at Rome, who, having lain
with Pontia Posthumia, found his love so much in-
creased by fruition that he solicited her with all im-
portunity to marry him, which, finding he could not
persuade her to,t his extreme love for her hurried
him to actions of the most cruel and mortal hatred,
so that in fact he killed her. In like manner the
ordinary symptoms of this other distemper of love are
in intestine hatreds, private conspiracies, and com-
binations:
Notumque, furens quid fœmina possit.‡
What a woman is capable of doing in her fury is not un-
known.
And a rage the more violent, because it is forced to
smother itself under the pretence of good will.
Now the obligation of chastity is very extensive.
Is it their will which we would have them curb?
This is a very pliant and active faculty, and is very
prompt to be stopped. How if dreams sometimes
engage the women so far that they cannot deny
them? It is not in the power of them, nor perhaps
of chastity itself, because it is a female, to defend
themselves from concupiscence and desire. If we
are only interested in their will, what a case are we
in then? Do but imagine what a great throng there
would be of men to obtain the privilege of flying,
like a feathered arrow, without eyes and tongue, to
the arms of every woman that would accept them.
The Scythian women caused the eyes of all their slaves
and prisoners of war to be plucked out, that they
* Tacitus, Annales, lib. xiii. cap. 44, calls him Octavius Sagitta.
+ Idem, ibid.
‡ Virg. Æneid. lib. v. ver. 6.
₫ Herodotus, lib. iv. p. 255, does not say that the Scythian wo-
men had the eyes of their slaves plucked out for the purpose as-
signed by Montaigne, but that the Scythians themselves deprived
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
87
But,
might make use of them with the more freedom and
secrecy. Oh! the furious advantage of opportunity!
Should any one ask me what was the first thing to
be done in love, I would answer, that it was to
know how to nick the happy moment; and the same
as to the second, and the third things. It is the
critical point that does every thing. Opportunity
has often failed me, and sometimes I have miscarried
in the attempt. May I never again have the morti-
fying circumstance to be laughed at. There is in
this age more necessity for temerity, for which our
youth plead their heat of blood as an excuse.
were the women to examine the matter more strictly,
they would find that it rather proceeded from con-
tempt. I had a superstitious fear of giving offence,
and have a hearty respect where I love. Besides, he
who in this traffic takes away the reverence of it,
defaces its lustre. I would in this affair have a man
be a little childish, timorous, and servile. If not
altogether in this, I have in other things some airs
of that foolish bashfulness which Plutarch speaks of,
and the course of my life has been divers ways hurt
and blemished by it; a quality very ill suiting my
universal form. What is there also amongst us but
sedition and discord? I can as ill brook to take a re-
fusal as I can to give one: and it so much troubles
me to be troublesome to another person, that in
cases where I am forced to try the good will of any
one in a matter that is doubtful, and will be charge-
able to him, I do it faintly, and against the grain.
But if it be to serve myself (though Homer,
Odyssey, lib. xvii. ver. 347, says very true, that
Modesty is a foolish virtue in an indigent person"),
I commonly substitute a third person to blush in my
stead, and have the like difficulty to deny those who

26
all their slaves of sight for the purpose of drawing milk from their
mares, which was their food. But it does not appear very plain that
there was a necessity of blinding those poor slaves for this work ;
and, therefore, the reason which Montaigne assigns for it is much
more easy to comprehend.
88
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
employ me; so that it has sometimes befallen me to
have had a mind to deny when the thing was not in
my power. It is a folly therefore to attempt to
curb in women a desire that is so vehement in them,
and so natural: and, when I hear some of them
boast of having a will so innocent and cool, I laugh
at them. They retire too far back. If she be an
old toothless decrepid trot, or a young dry scrag,
though they are not altogether to be believed, they
may say it at least with more probability. But they,
who are yet capable of love, and still pant with de-
sire, spoil their own market; forasmuch as indis-
creet excuses tend to accuse them; like a gentle-
man in my neighbourhood, suspected of impotency:
Languidior temerâ cui pendens sicula betâ
Nunquam se mediam sustulit ad tunicam.*
who, three or four days after he was married, in or-
der to justify himself, swore point-blank that he had
rode twenty stages the night before; which oath
was afterwards made use of to dissolve the marriage.
Besides, it is saying nothing to the purpose; for
there is no continency nor virtue where there is no
contrary effort. It is true, it must be said, but I am
not ready to comply. The saints themselves talk in
this manner; I mean those who boast in good ear-
ness of their coldness and insensibility, and who put
on a serious countenance in order to be believed ;
for when it is spoken with an affected look, where
the eyes give the lie to the tongue, and when they
use the cant of their profession, which always goes
against the hair, I like it well. I adore freedom and
simplicity, but there is no remedy; if it be not alto-
gether simple and childish, it is silly and unbecom-
ing the ladies in this commerce, and immediately
verges to impudence. Their disguises and their
figures only serve to cozen fools. Lying is there in
its seat of honour. It is a by-way that leads us to
* Catull. carm. 65, ver. 21, 22; of Mattaire's edition,
î
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
89
the truth by a back-door. If we cannot curb their
imaginations, what is it we would have them to do?
Do, indeed?: there are ways enough by which
chastity may be violated without any foreign com
munication:
:
Illud sæpe facit quod sine teste fecit.*
He often does himself apply
To that he does when none is by.
And they whom we least suspect are perhaps the
most to be feared. The crimes that make the
least noise are the worst, or as we say, the still sow
eats the most malt:
Offendor mæchâ simplicione minùs.†
A profess'd strumpet gives me less offence.
•
There are means capable of violating their chastity.
without immodesty, and, which is more, without
their knowledge. Obstetrix virginis cujusdam in-
tegritatem manu velut explorans, sive malevolentiâ,
sive inscitià, sive casu, dum inspicit, perdidit :‡ Some
have lost their maidenhead by a too curious search
for it, and others by dallying with it have des-
troyed it.
We cannot exactly circumscribe the
actions which we forbid them. There is a necessity
for couching our law under general and uncertain
terms. The very idea which we form for their
chastity is ridiculous; for among the extraordinary
examples of it, which I have met with, are Fatua
the wife of Faunus, who, after her marriage, never
suffered herself to be seen by any man whatsoever;
and the wife of Hiero, who never knew that her
husband had a stinking breath, because she imagined
that it was a quality common to all men.§ They
* Martial, lib. vii. ep. 61, ver. 6.
+ Idem, lib. vi. ep. 7.
These words are a confirmation of what Montaigne has been
saying, and though they are to be met with in St. Augustine's trea-
tise, de Civitate Dei, lib. i. cap. 18, they are too gross to be put
into plain English.
§ Plutarch, in his remarkable Passages of ancient Kings,
90
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
Chastity
depends on
must be insensible and invisible, or we cannot be
easy.
But we confess that the best way to form a judg-
the in- ment of this duty, is by an inspection into the will.
nocence of There have been husbands who have suffered this
the will.
Women
by their
accident, not only without reproaching or taking
offence at their wives, but with special obligation to
them, and a recommendation of their virtue. There
was a woman that prized her honour above her life,
who prostituted it to the furious lust of a mortal
enemy, to save her husband's life; and thereby did
that for him, which she would by no means have
done for herself. This is not a place to produce such
instances; they are too sublime and too rich to be
set to view by any light that I can throw upon them.
Let us reserve them for a nobler place. But as to
instances of a more common lustre, are there not
women every day amongst us, who let themselves
out to hire only for the benefit of their husbands,
and by their express order and brokerage? Thus
prostituted heretofore Phaulius of Argos, to gratify his ambition,
offered his wife to king Philip, just as Galba did out
for lucre. of civility; who, having invited Mecenas to supper,
and finding that his wife and he made love-signs by
their mutual ogling, fell back on his couch, like a
man greatly oppressed with sleepiness, to give op-
portunity to their amours: * and this he owned too
with a very good grace; for, at the same time, a
servant presuming to meddle with the plates, &c.
that were upon the table, he said to him very
frankly; "How now, you rascal? do not you per-
"ceive that I only sleep to oblige Mecænas?"
There are some licentious men, whose wills may be
more reformed than those of others that behave to
outward appearance with more regularity. As we
see some who complain of having made a vow of
chastity before they came to years of discretion; I
have also known others complain truly of having as

hubands

* Plutarch, in his Treatise of Love, p. 16..
ON SⱭME VERSES OF VIRGİL.
91

early devoted themselves to debauchery. The vice
of parents, or the force of necessity, which is a rude
counsellor, may be the cause of it. In the East Indies,
though chastity be of singular recommendation, yet
custom permitted a married woman to prostitute
herself to any one that would present her with an
elephant; and proud she was that she had such a
value set on her. Phædon, the philosopher, after
the conquest of Elis, his native country, made it his
trade to prostitute the beauty of his youth, as long
as it lasted, for money to support him. And Solon,
they say, was the first man in Greece, who, by his
laws, gave liberty to the women, at the expense of
their modesty, to provide for the necessaries of life;
a custom which, Herodotus says, was received in
many governments before his time. Besides, what
is any one the better for such a painful solicitude? For
be the passion of jealousy ever so just, we ought to
consider whether it will turn out to our advantage.
Does any man think that, with all his industry, he
can put an effectual bar upon the women:
•
Pone seram, cohibe; sed quis custodiet ipsos
Custodes? Cauta est, et ab illis incipit uxor.
Lock up your wife, or else, as some advise,
*
Set a strict watch; but who shall watch the spies?
Them first she bribes, and all your art defies.
What convenience can they be at a loss for in so
knowing an age as the present?
in the ar-
ticle of
pernicious.
Curiosity is vicious every where, but here it is also Curiosity,
pernicious; it is a folly to be inquisitive into a
disease for which there is no medicine that does not women's
inflame and make it worse; a disease which is made chastity
more shameful and more public by the means of
jealousy; and the revenge of which wounds our
issue more than it heals us. You wither and die in
the search of so obscure a proof. How miserable
* Juv. sat. vi. ver. 346.
9%
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
A gentle-
the less es-
being dif
have some of my time been made by having at-
tained to the knowledge of it! If the informer does
not apply a remedy and relief at the same time with
the discovery, it is an injurious information, and he
is more deserving of a stab than a downright liar.
We laugh as much at him who takes pains to prevent
his being a cuckold, as at him who is really such,
and knows it not. The stamp of cuckoldom is so
indelible, that he, who once has it, always carries it
to his grave. The punishment is more expressive of
it than the crime. It is to a very fine purpose, to
open the curtain and to lift up the quilt to discover
our private misfortunes, and to trumpet them on tragio
scaffolds, and such misfortunes too, as only sting us
by being reported: for a wife is thought to be good,
or a marriage happy, not as they are really so, but
because the world is silent about them. A man
must be discreet to avoid this tormenting and un-
profitable knowledge: and the Romans,* when they
returned from any journey, used to send notice be-
forehand of their coming, that their wives. might not
be surprised. To this purpose it is, that a certain
nation introduced a custom, that the priest should
on the day of any marriage, unlock the bride's
cabinet, to free the husband from the doubt and
curiosity of examining, by his first trial, whether
she comes a virgin to his bed, or has been violated
before.
•
But the world will be talking. I know a hundred
man is not honest gentlemen that are not very much disgraced
teemed for by being cuckolds. A gallant man is pitied for it,
honoured but not despised. Order the matter so, that your
virtue may smother your misfortune, that good men
may curse the occasion of it, and that he who wrongs
you may tremble but to think of it. But who
escapes being talked of at the same rate, from the
least even to the greatest?
by his
wife.
* Plutarch, in his Treatise of Questions about the Roman Affairs,
chap. ix.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
93
Tot qui legionibus imperitavit,*
Et melior quam tu multis fuit, improbè, rebus.†
To whose command whole legions once did bow,
And who, poor wretch, was better far than thou.
You see how many honest men are reproached with
this in your presence, and you may be sure that you
are not spared behind your back. Nay, the very
ladies will be laughing too; and what are they more
apt to banter in this virtuous age, than a peaceable
and most happy married couple? There is not a man Cuck-
among you, who has not made somebody a cuckold;
for nature deals altogether in retaliation and variety. one is ob
The frequency of this accident must have lessened liged to
the bitterness of it long ago, and it is now passed secret.
into custom.
Miserable suffering this! which is also aggravated,
because improper to be made known:
Fors etiam nostris invidet questibus aures.‡
And fortune spitefully denies
To lend an ear unto our cries.
For to what friend dare you trust your complaints?
who, if he does not laugh at them, will not make
use of the occasion as an introduction and instruc-
tion to come in for a share of the quarry. Wise
folks keep the bitters as well as the sweets of matri-
mony secret and among the other teasing articles
that are to be met with in this state, to a talkative
man as I am, this is the chief, that custom renders
it indecent and injurious to communicate to another
all that one knows and feels of it.
oldom an
evil, which
keep
wife is
To give the women themselves any advice to dis- The jea-
gust them against jealousy would be time lost; their lousy of a
very being is such a compound of suspicion, vanity, very fatal
and curiosity, that there is no hopes of curing them to her bus-
A
* The 1041st verse, of which Montaigne quotes the sense rather
than the words, is here înserted before the ver. 1039.
+ Lucret. lib. iii. ver. 1039, 1041.
‡ Catullus de Nuptiis Pelei, carm. 62. ver. 170.
band.
94
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
The dan-
gerous con-
of too
great a re-
1
by lawful means. They often recover themselves
out of this infirmity by a form of health, much more
to be dreaded than the malady itself. For as there
are enchantments which cannot remove the evil but
by throwing it upon another, they are glad to trans-
fer this fever to their husbands, when they are rid of
it themselves. Nevertheless, to say the truth, I do
not know whether a man can suffer a worse thing
from them than jealousy; it is the most dangerous
of their qualities, as the head is of all the parts of
their bodies. Pittacus said, that "Every one had
"his vexation; that his was the bad head of his
"wife; but for which he should think himself per-

*
fectly happy." This, sure, was a very sad incon-
venience, with which a person so wise, just, and va-
liant, found the whole course of his life poisoned!
What then must we little men do? The senate of
Marseilles might well grant the request of him who
desired leave to kill himself, in order to be delivered
from the clamour of his wife. For this is a mischief
never removed but by carrying away the piece, and
which there is no compounding for but by flight or
patience; both of which are hard terms. In my
opinion, he was not a novice, who said, that happy
was the marriage where the wife was blind, and the
husband deaf.
Let us also consider, whether the great and violent
sequences severity of the obligation we lay upon them, does
not produce two effects contrary to our end, viz.
straint laid Whether it does not render the gallants more eager
on the wife to attack, and the women more forward to surrender.
band. For as to the first, by raising the value of the place,
by the hus-
we raise the value and desire of the conquest. Who
would not think that Venus herself cunningly en-
hanced the price of her merchandise, by making the
laws her bawds, knowing how insipid that pleasure
would be which was not heightened by fancy and its
dearness? In short, it is all swine's flesh, only va
* Plutarch of the Peace of Mind, chap. xi.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
95
ried, as the host of Flaminius said, by different sauce.
Cupid is a sly deity, who makes it his sport to con-
tend with devotion and justice. It is his pride that
his power gives a shock to every other power, and
that all other rules yield to his:
Materiam culpæ prosequiturque suæ. *
And seeks fresh fuel for his fire.
As to the second point, should not we be less cuckolds
if we less feared to be so, considering the temper of
women whose desires are prompted and excited by
prohibition?
Uli velis nolunt, ubi nolis volunt ultro,†
Concessa pudet ire via.‡
In ev'ry varied choice, repugnant still,
They would, you won't, and when you won't, they will.
What better construction can we put on the beha
viour of Messalina? She at first cuckolded her hus-
band in private, as is the common practice: but
managing her affairs with too much ease, by reason
of her husband's stupidity, she on a sudden scorned
privacy, scrupled not to carry on her amours in
public, owned her humble servants, and entertained
and favoured them in the sight of all the world. She
aimed to make her husband sensible of it. But no-
thing of all this being able to rouse the animal, and
rendering her pleasures languid and flat, by that
stupid facility with which she seemed to authorise
and make them lawful, what does she, but, being
the wife of a healthy emperor, living at Rome, the
theatre of the world, in the face of the sun, and with
public feasting and ceremony she one day, as her
husband was out of town, married Silius, whom she
had enjoyed long before? Does it not seem as if she
was going to become chaste through her husband's
indifference for her? Or that she desired another
* Ovid. Trist. lib. iv. eleg. 1, ver. 34.
+ Ter. Eunuch, act. 4, sc. 7, ver. 43.
Lucan. lib. ii. ver. 446.
Tacit. Annal. lib. xi.cap. 26, 27, &c.
96
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
husband, who might sharpen her appetite by his jea-
lousy, and by opposing it stir it up? But the first
difficulty she met with was also the last. This beast
roused on a sudden. These sleepy, sluggish mortals
are often the most dangerous. I have known, by
experience, that this extreme patience, when it
comes to be worn out, produces the most severe re-
venge; for, by taking fire all on a sudden, anger
and fury combined in one, exert all their efforts at
the first discharge:
Irarumque omnis effundit habenas.*
he put her to death, and with her a great number of
her correspondents; even one whom she had forced
to her bed with scourges.t
What Virgil said of Venus and Vulcan was more
suitably expressed by Lucretius, of a stolen enjoy-
ment between her and Mars:
Belli fera munera Mavors,
Armipotens regit, in gremium qui sæpe tuum se
Rejicit, æterno devinctus volnere amoris:
Atque ita suspiciens tereti cervice reposta
Pascit amore avidos inhians in te, dea, visus
Eque tuo pendet resupini spiritus ore:
Hunc tu, diva, tuo recubantem corpore sancto
Circumfusa super, suaveis ex ore loquelæ
Funde.t
For furious Mars,
The only governor and god of wars,
With thee enamoured doth oft resort.
To taste the pleasures of the Paphian court;
Where on thy bosom he supinely lies,
Panting, and drinking love at both his eyes;
Sucking thy balmy breath with eager kiss,
And rushing to enjoy yet greater bliss;
Then, while thy tender limbs about him move,
Involv'd and fetter'd in the clasps of love,
Thy charms in that transporting moment try,
And softest language to his heart apply.
* Virg. Æneid. lib. xii. ver. 499.
+ Mnester, the comedian, and Traulus Montanus, Tacit. Annal
lib. xi. cap. 36.
‡ Lucret. lib. i. ver. 33, &c.
:
ÓN SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
97
description
When I consider these words,* Rejicit, pascit, in- A lively
hians, pendet, and that word circumfusa, from whence of the
infusus is nobly derived, I have a contempt for those amours of
little witticisms and verbal allusions which have Mars, more
started up since.
Venus and
natural
than that
the trans-
Venus.
true elo-
Those good poets stood in need of no smart subtle which re-
turn of phrase. Their language is copious, and fill presents
of a natural and constant spirit. It is altogether ports of
epigrammatical; with a sting not only in the tail, Vulcan for
but in the head, stomach, and feet. There is no- What con-
thing forced in it, nothing drawling, and it ever stitutes
keeps the same pace, without variation. Confertus quence.
totus virilis est, non sunt circa flosculos occupati :+
"The whole texture of it is manly, without the or-
"nament of flowers." It is not an eloquence merely
delicate and inoffensive: it is nervous and solid; and
not only pleases, but actually engrosses and capti-
vates, and the finest understandings are the most
charmed with it. When I see those sublime forms
of expression so lively, so profound, I do not say
it
is well uttered, but well conceived. It is the spright-
liness of the imagination that gives pomp and subli-
mity to the language. Pectus est quod disertum
facit:+
"Eloquence is owing to the frame of the
"mind." Our people call language judgment, and
fine words, full conceptions. This painting is not so
much owing to the dexterity of hand, as to the lively
impression of the object on the mind. Gallus's lan-
guage is simple, because his conception is simple.
Horace is not content with a superficial expression;
that would betray him; he sees into things farther
and more clearly. His wit breaks into and rummages
the whole magazine of words and figures to represent
his thoughts, and he must have terms to express
himself, which are more than ordinary, because such
is his conception. Plutarch says, that he knew the
*
* All these words so natural and expressive; some of them in
the passage out, of Virgil, mentioned in one of the preceding pas-
sages of this chapter, and the rest in the quotation here inserted.
+ Seneca, epist. 33.
Quintilian, lib. x,
VOL. III.
H
98
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
1
Wits enrich
and give it
gour.
Latin tongue by things:* so here, the sense illumi-
nates and produces the words, which are no longer
words of air, but of flesh and bone. They signify
more than they express. The novices in a language
have also some idea of this. For in Italy I said
whatever I had a mind to in common discourse; but
in serious subjects I did not dare to trust to an idiom,
which I could not turn and wind out of its com-
mon path. I was for introducing something of my
own.
Men of wit set off a language by their way of
language, handling and managing it; not so much innovating
fresh vi- it, as by putting it to more vigorous and various ser-
vices, and straining and bending it to them. They
do not introduce new terms into it, but they enrich
those they have already, give them more weight,
spirit, and energy; and add new turns, which are
however authorised by the wise and ingenious appli-
cation, which they are not at a loss to make of them.
This is the end which all should have in view, who
are ambitious of writing well; and as for those who
have not genius to attain to it, they ought to think
of something else. And indeed how few have a suf-
ficiency of this talent, is evident from the many
French scribblers of the age. They are too bold and
haughty to follow the common road; but the want
of invention and discretion ruins them. There is
nothing to be seen in their writings but a wretched
affectation of a strange novelty of style, with cold
and absurd disguises, which, instead of elevating the
subject, depress it. Provided they can but trick up
themselves with new-fangled terms, they care not
what they avail; and, for the sake of bringing in a
new word, though it be by head and shoulders, they
* In the Life of Demosthenes, chap. 1. I began to take Latin
authors in hand, says he, very late, being far advanced in the de-
cline of life, when an odd thing happened to me, which is neverthe-
less true, viz. That I did not so much learn to understand things by
the words, as I came to understand the words, in some degree, by
the use and knowledge I had of the things thereby signified.

ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
99
leave out the common one, though often more ner-
vous and significant.
pinion of
I find stuff enough in our language, but there is Mon-
some fault in the modelling of it; for there is no-taigne's o
thing that might not be made out of our terms of the French
hunting and war, which is a fruitful soil to borrow language.
from: and the forms of speech, like herbs, improve
and grow stronger by being transplanted. I think
the language copious enough, but not sufficiently
pliable and vigorous. It commonly flags under a
powerful conception. If you are upon the sublime,
you often perceive it languishes and droops under
you, and that then Latin steps in to its relief, as
Greek does to other languages. We do not easily
discern the energy of some of those words which I
have selected, because the common use of them has,
in some measure, impaired their beauty, and ren-
dered it vulgar; as is the case in our common talk,
wherein there are excellent phrases and metaphors,
the beauty of which is faded by their being anti-
quated, and their lustre sullied by too common hand-
ling. But this abates nothing of the relish to men
of understanding, neither does it derogate from the
glory of those ancient authors who, it is likely, first
brought those words into that lustre.
ences are
much art.
The sciences treat of things with too much refine- The sci-
ment, and in an artificial manner, very different treated of
from that which is common and natural. My page with too
makes love, and understands it; but read to him
Leo, the Hebrew, and Ficinus, where they treat of
the lover, his thoughts and his actions, and he knows
nothing at all of the matter. I discover in Aristotle
most of my common impulses, which are there co-
vered and clothed in another robe for the use of the
schools. Well may they speed; but, were I of the
profession, I would naturalise art as much as artify
nature. Let us leave Bembo and Equicola where
we found them.
When I write I care not for the company and the Why Mon-
remembrance of books, lest they should break into t
taigne
chose to
H 2
100
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
•
have no
books by
him but
while he
ing.
my plan: and to say the truth,
much debase and discourage me.
good authors too
I am very much
Plutarch of the mind of that painter who, having made a
was writ- wretched figure of some cocks, charged his boys
not to suffer any natural cock to come into his shop;
and, in order to give myself a little lustre, had need
rather of the invention of the musician Antimonydes,
who, when he was to perform a piece of music, took
care that the auditory should, either before or after
him, be entertained with some other sorry songsters.
But I can hardly be without a Plutarch; he is so
universal and copious, that upon all occasions, and
whatever extravagant subject you pitch upon, he is
officious to supply your necessity, and stretches out
a liberal hand to you with an inexhaustible store of
riches and embellishments. It vexes me that he is
so liable to be plundered by those who are conver-
sant with him. I can no sooner make an acquaint-
ance with him but I purloin either a leg or a wing
from him.
Why he
chose to
write at
home,
where he
had none to
help him.
For this design of mine I find it also very proper
to write at home, in a wild country, where nobody
assists or relieves me, where I seldom see a man that
understands the Latin of his Pater-noster, or as little,
if so much, of the French. I might have performed
better elsewhere, but then the work would not have
been so much my own; its chief aim and perfection
being to be exactly mine. I should be apt enough
to correct some accidental errors, of which I am full,
as I write on inadvertently; but as for my common
and constant imperfections, it would be a kind of
treason to expunge them. When any one tells me,
or I say to myself," Thou are too full of figures;
"that is a word of the Gascon growth; that is a
CC
dangerous phrase (I do not reject any that are
"used in the common streets of France; it is mere
σε jest to think of opposing custom with grammar);
"that is an ignorant discourse; a paradoxical sen-
"tence; that there is too silly; you often make
66
yourself merry; it will be thought you say a thing in
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
101
;
"good earnest, which you only speak in jest." Very
true, say I; but I correct the errors of inadvertency,
not those of custom. Do I not talk at the same
rate throughout? Do not I represent myself to the
life? It is enough I have done what I designed.
Every body discovers me in my book, and my book.
in me.
very apt to
Now I have an apish imitating quality. When I Montaigne
used to set about writing verses (though I never imitate.
made any but Latin), they plainly discovered the poet
I had read last; and some of my first essays have
a taste that is a little exotic. At Paris I speak a
language somewhat different from what I do at Mon-
taigne. Whatever I look upon with attention,
easily leaves some impression of it upon me.
What-
ever I examine I make my own, whether a silly
countenance, a disagreeable grimace, or a ridiculous
way of speaking; and vices most of all, as they
seize and stick to me, and will not leave their hold
without shaking off. I swear oftner by imitation
than humour. A cruel imitation like that of the
apes, so terrible in stature and strength, which Alex-
ander met with in a certain country of the Indies,
and which it would have been difficult for him to
have mastered any other way. But they afforded
him the means, by this their inclination to counter-
feit whatever they saw done.* For thereby the
pur-
suers learned to put on shoes in their sight, and to
tie them fast with many knots, to muffle up their
heads in caps altogether composed of running nooses,
and to make as if they anointed their eyes with glue.
Thus did those poor animals, employ their mimicking
humour indiscreetly to their own detriment. They
glued up their own eyes, hamstringed, and bound
themselves. The other faculty of mimicking the
words and gesture of a person, purposely to raise
mirth and admiration, is no more in my power than
in that of a stock. When I swear in my own man-
* Ælian de Animal. lib. xvii, cap. 25, and Strabo, lib. xv. p, 1923,
Y
ว
102
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
He gene-
duced his
in use among &
ner, it is only by God, which of all oaths is the most
strict. They say that Socrates swore by his dog:
Zeno by that same interjection which is at this time
the Italians, viz. Cappari; and Py-
thagorast by water and air. I am so apt, without
thinking of it, to receive these superficial impressions,
that if I had in my youth sire or highness three days
together, I would repeat them a week after, instead
of excellency and lordship; and what I say one day
in sport and jest, I shall repeat next day seriously.
Therefore in writing I am fonder of trite arguments,
lest I should handle them at another's expense.
Every subject is equally fertile to me. A fly will
serve me for a subject; and it is well if what I
have now in hand may not have been undertaken at
the command of as rambling a will. Let me begin
with that which I like best; for the subjects are all
linked to one another.
But I am vexed that my deepest and most ridicu
rally pro- lous reveries, yet such as please me best, are pro-
profound- duced on a sudden, and when I look for them the
est thoughts least; and that they as suddenly vanish, for want of
on a sud-
den.
Did not
interrupt-
ed as he
ing.
something at that instant to apply them to; be it on
horseback, at table, or in bed; though I am most
given to think when I am riding.
My speech is a little nicely jealous of attention
like to be and silence if I am engaged in a discourse. Who-
ever then interrupts me puts me to a stand. In a
journey the very necessaries wanting on the road
break off discourse; besides that I often travel with-
out the company fit for such regular conversation;
by which means I have all the leisure I would desire
to entertain myself. It falls out to me as it does
* Ωμους δὲ (φασί) καὶ κάππαριν καθανες Σωκράτης τὸν Κύνα, Diogenes
Laert. lib. vii. sect. 32. Capparis is the name of a shrub bearing ca-
pers; others swore by a cabbage, as is the custom in France, even
at this day; witness the word vertuchou, a kind of oath, which signi-
fies by the virtue of cabbage; an expression which many people
make use of every now and then.
+ Diogenes Laert. in the Life of Pythagoras, lib. viii. sect. 6.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
103
with my dreams. Whilst I am dreaming I recom-
mend them to my memory (for I am apt to dream
that I dream), but next day I may well enough call
to mind what complexion they were of, whether gay,
or sad, or wild; but what they were as to the rest,
the more I strive to recollect, the deeper I plunge it
in oblivion. So of thoughts that come accidentally
into my head, I have no more than a vain image re-
maining in my memory; only enough to tease and
vex me in a fruitless search after them.
is; how it
culous, and
Now therefore, laying books aside, and to speak What love
more to the purpose and the truth, I find after all, renders a
that love is nothing but the thirst of the enjoyment man ridi-
of it in a desired subject, and that Venus is nothing like to the
more than the pleasure of discharging the vessels; beasts.
like the pleasure that nature gives us in the discharge
of the other parts, which becomes vicious by being
either immoderate or indiscreet. According to So-
crates, love is the appetite of generation by the in-
tervention of beauty. And, having often considered
the ridiculous titillation of this pleasure, the absurd,
hairbrained, and senseless motions with which it
agitates Zeno and Crasippus, the indiscreet rage,
the countenance inflamed with fury and cruelty, in
the sweetest act of love; and then that sour, grave,
and ecstatic one in an action so wanton; that our
delights and our excrements are promiscuously
shuffled together, and that the highest pleasure is,
like pain, attended with fainting and complaining, I
think it true what Plato says, that man was made by
the gods for their sport.*
**
(Quænam ista jocandi
Seevitia ? +
What a strange sporting cruelty is this?
and that it is in derision that nature has ordered the
most common of our actions to be the most trouble-
some; thereby to make us equal,
fools and wise men, beasts and us.
τι
and to parallel
When I imagine
*"Avlgaπòv Os Ti waiyo sirai, De Legibus, lib. vii. p. 889.
+ Claud. in Eutrop. lib. i. ver. 24, 25.
104
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
Why is
love, with
which na-
ture in-
spires us,
to be con-
demned,
the most contemplative and prudent man in this
situation, I think he has consummate impudence to
pretend to be prudent and contemplative.
pride of the peacock is mortified by its legs.
Ridentem dicere verum,
Quid vetat ? *
Why may not truth in laughing guise be dress'd.
The
<
They who in their sports banish serious thoughts,
are, says one, like the person who fears to adore the
statue of a saint if it be stark naked. We eat and
drink indeed as beasts do; but these are not actions
that obstruct the functions of our soul. In those we
maintain our advantage over them. This subjects
every other thought to it: and, by its imperious
authority, makes an ass of all Plato's divinity and
philosophy, and yet there is no complaint of it. In
every thing else you may preserve a sort of decorum:
all other operations submit to the rules of honesty;
this cannot so much as in imagination appear other than
vicious or ridiculous. Examine if you can therein find
a wise and discreet proceeding. Ålexander said, that
this performance and sleeping were the chief actions
by which he knew himself to be mortal. † Sleep suf-
focates and suppresses the faculties of our soul; the
exercise with the sex absorbs and dissipates them in
like manner. Doubtless, it is a mark not only of
our original corruption, but also of our vanity and
deformity.
Nature impels us to it on the one hand, by having
attached to this desire the most noble, useful, and
pleasant of all her functions; and, on the other
hand, she leaves us to accuse and avoid it as a thing
insolent and indecent, to blush at it, and to recom-
mend abstinence. Are not we brutes to call that
operation brutish which begets us? People of va-
rious religions have concurred in several ceremonies,
as sacrifices lamps, burning incense, fastings, obla-
* Hor. lib. i. sat 1, ver 24, 25.
+ Plutarch, in his Tract of the Means to distinguish the Flatterer
from the Friend, chap. 23.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
105
•
tions, and among others in the condemnation of this
action. All opinions centre in this, besides the an-
tiquated practice of circumcision. We have perhaps
cause to blame ourselves for contributing to so silly
a production as man, if we call the act and the parts
that are employed in it shameful; as mine are pro-
perly so at this time. The Essenians, of whom
Pliny speaks, kept up their nation several ages,*
without nurses or cradles, by the arrival of foreigners,
who, following this pretty humour, came among them
continually; a whole nation running the hazard of
total extinction, rather than engage themselves in
female embraces, and rather to lose a succession of
men than to beget one. They say that Zénot never
had to do with a woman but once in his whole life,
and then out of civility that he might not be deemed
a woman-hater. Every one shuns the sight of a
birth; every one runs to see an execution. To de-
stroy, a spacious field is sought out, and that in the
face of the sun; but to beget, we creep into as dark
and close a corner as we can. It is a man's duty to
withdraw himself from the light to do it; but it is
his glory, and the fountain of many virtues, to be
able to destroy it. The one is an injury, the other
a favour; for Aristotle said, that to do any one good
was, according to a proverb in his country, to kill
him. The Athenians, for the sake of paralleling the
disgust of those two actions, being to cleanse the
island of Delos, and to justify themselves to Apollo,
prohibited all births and burials in the precincts
thereof. Nostri nosmet pænitet ;‡ "We are ashamed
"of ourselves."
* "Gens sola, et in toto orbe præter cæteras mira, sine ullâ fæminâ,
❝ omni Venere abdicatâ.-In diem ex æquo convenarum turbe re-
"nascitur, large frequentibus quos vitâ fessos ad mores eorum for-
"tune fluctus agitat. Ita per sæculorum millia (incredibile dictu)
gens æterna est, in quâ nemo nascitur." Nat. Hist. lib. v. cap.
17
+ Diog. Laert. in the Life of Ze, lib. vii. sect. 13.
Seneca tells his friend Lucilius, in his 115th epistle, that he
would reap a very considerable advantage from philosophy, viz. that
106
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
do not care
should see
eat.
There are There are nations where the people do not love
people who to be seen to eat. I know a lady, and of the greatest
that any quality too, who thinks also that chewing gives a
them at disagreeable air to the face, which takes off much of
its grace and beauty; and therefore she does not
care to appear in public with an appetite: and I
know a man too who cannot bear to see another, or
be seen himself to eat; and is more shy of company
to see him in the act of repletion than that of eva-
cuation.
Turkish
wad men,
proud to
who are
debase
their own
nature.
conceal
and are in-
In the Turkish empire there are a great many
men, who, aiming to be thought more excellent than
others, never suffer themselves to be seen when they
are at their meals, who make but one in a week, who
cut and mangle their face and members, and never
speak to any one: a frantic people, who think to
honour their nature by being unnatural to it, who
value themselves upon despising themselves, and
become better by growing worse. What a monster
is the animal that becomes horrible to himself;
whose delights are his plagues, and who sticks to
misfortune!
There are some who hide themselves as long as
they live,
Exilioque domos et dulcia limina mutant ;
Atque alio patriam quærunt sub sole jacentem.*
Leaving their native seats, in exile run
To lands that lie beneath another sun.
Men who stealing from the sight of other men; and avoid
themselves health and cheerfulness, as qualities that are prejudi-
from sight, cial, and enemies to the human being. Not only
genious in many sects, but many individuals, curse their birth,
using them- and bless their death: and there is a place where the
selves ill. sun is abhorred, and darkness adored. We are only
ingenious to use ourselves ill. In quest of this game
he would never be ashamed of himself; and it is not unlikely that
this passage ran in Montaigne head, though he employs it in a
sense quite different.
* Virg. Geo. lib. ii. ver. 511.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
107
we employ all our wit, which is a dangerous tool if
it be used intemperately:
O miseri quorum gaudia crimen habent ! *
O wretched man, whose very joys are crimes!
Alas! poor man! thou hast misfortunes enough that
are unavoidable, without stretching thy invention to
increase them; and art miserable enough by consti-
tution, without being so by art; thou hast real and
essential deformities enough, without forging such as
are imaginary.. Dost thou think thyself too easy in
thy circumstances if one half of thy enjoyments does
not disquiet thee? Dost thou think that thou hast
performed all the necessary offices to which thou art
engaged by nature: and that she is idle in thee if
thou dost not oblige thyself to new offices? Thou
dost not scruple to offend her universal and undoubted
laws, and art very tenacious of thy own favourite
whimsies, which, the more particular, uncertain, and
repugnant they are, the more pains thou dost take
in their favour. Thou art attached to the positive
laws of thy parish, but those of the world concern
thee not. Run but a little over the examples of this
kind; thy whole life is full of them.
love only
In my opinion, the verses of those two poets, in To talk dis-
treating so reservedly and discreetly of lasciviousness, creetly of
discover it, and lay it fuller in view. The ladies stimulates
cover their breasts with net-work, as the priests do it the more.
several sacred things; and painters throw a shade
over their works to give them the greater lustre: and
the sun and wind are said to strike more violently by
reflection than in a direct line. When the Egyptian
was asked, what he carried so secretly under his
cloak: he gravely answered, It is hid under my cloak,
to the end that thou mightest not know what it is.†
But there are some other things that are hid only on
* Cornel. Gal. eleg. 1, ver. 118.
+ Plutarch, of Curiosity, chap. 3.
108
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
The love of
niards and
the Ita-
purpose to be shown. Hear this man who speaks
plainer:
Et nudam pressi corpus adusque meum.*
And in these naked arms of mine
Her naked body I did twine.
Methinks I am emasculated by this expression. If
Martial turn up Venus's coats ever so high, he cannot
show her in such perfection. He who says all that
might be said, surfeits and disgusts us. He who is
afraid to speak out, inclines one to think more of
the matter than there is in reality. There is a kind
of treachery in this sort of modesty, and especially
whilst they half open, as they do, so fair a path to
imagination. And both the action and the descrip-
tion must show they are stolen.
The love of the Spaniards and Italians the more
the Spa- respectful and timorous, the more coy and secret it
is, the better it pleases me. I know not which of
lians; the the ancients it was who wished his weasand as long
pectful and as the neck of a crane,t that he might be the longer
timorous it in tasting what he swallowed. Such a wish would have
agreeable. been more proper in this pleasure, which is so quick
more res-
is, the more
Love onght
and precipitant, especially in such natures as mine,
which has the fault of being too sudden in its mo-
tion. To stop its flight, and delay it with pream-
bles, a wink, a bow, a word, a sign, stand all for
favour and recompence between them. Would it
not be excellent frugality in him that could dine on
the steam of roast-meast?
It is a passion in which solidity has very little
to be made share, but vanity and a feverish dotage much
and with greater; and it must be recompensed and served in
out preci- 'the same manner. We teach the ladies to value and
gradually,
pitation.
esteem themselves, and to amuse and cheat us.
We
give the last discharge at the first onset. The French
impetuosity always attends it. By spinning out
-
* Ovid. de Amor. lib. i. eleg. 5, ver. 24.
See in Athenæus; lib. i. cap. 6.
9
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
109
their favours, and exposing them in small parcels,
even wretched old age finds some share of them ac-
cording to a man's value and merit. He who has
no fruition but in fruition, who wins nothing unless
he sweep the stakes, who only loves the chase for
the sake of the quarry, has no business to come to
our school. The more steps and gradations there
are, the uppermost seat is the higher, and the more
honourable. We should take a pleasure in being
conducted to it, as is the way in magnificent pa-
laces, by divers porticos and passages, long and
pleasant galleries, and by many turnings and wind-
ings. This management would redound to our ad-
vantage. We should then stay longer and love lon-
ger. Without hope, and without desire, our progress
is not worth a rush. Our conquest and entire pos-
session is what they ought always to dread. When
they surrender themselves up to the mercy of our
fidelity and constancy, they run not a little hazard.
These are virtues rare and hard to attain to. They
are no sooner ours but we are no more theirs :
Postquam cupidæ mentis satiatæ libido est.
Verba nihil metuere, nihil perjuria curant.*
When our desires and lusts once sated are
For oaths and promises we nothing care.
"
Thrasonides, a young man of Greece, was so fond
of his amour that, having gained his mistress's heart,
he refused to enjoy her, that he might not by fruition
consume, quench, and satiate that uneasy passion,
of which he boasted, and with which he fed his
fancy. The dearness of a dish heightens the relish
of it.
dered con-
Do but observe how much the fashion of saluting, Kisses ren-
which is peculiar to our nation, does, by the facility temptible
of granting them, rob kisses of that charm which So- by being
crates said is so powerful and dangerous for stealing mon in sa-
our hearts. It is a disagreeable and offensive fashion lutes.
for the ladies that they must be obliged to lend their
* Catullus de Nuptiis Pelei et Thetidis, carm. 62, ver. 147.
too com-
110
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
lips to every man that has three footmen to attend
him, be his person ever so disgusting :
Cujus livida naribus caninis
Dependet glacies, rigetque barba :*
Centum occurrere malo cunnilingis.†
Nor are we ourselves at all gainers by the bargain;
for as the world is divided we are obliged to kiss
fifty ugly faces for three beauties; and to tender
stomachs, like those of my age, a bad kiss is too dear
a purchase for a good one.
In Italy they passionately court, and even fall
into raptures of devotion to the very women who
prostitute themselves for money; and justify their
conduct by pleading that there are degrees of fruition,
and that they pay them so much compliment with a
desire of obtaining that fruition which is the most
entire. The women only sell their bodies: their
wills are too free, and too much their own to be put
to sale. Therefore, say these gentlemen, it is the
will they aim at, and so far they are in the right. It is
the will that must be obliged and managed. I should
abhor to think that mine was a body deprived of af-
fection. This madness is, methinks, akin to that of
the boy,‡ who longed to ravish the beautiful image
of Venus, which was carved by Praxiteles; or that
of the furious Egyptian, who violated the dead
corpse of a woman that he was embalming; which
gave occasion to the law § made afterwards in Egypt,
that the bodies of beautiful young women, and those
of a good family, should be kept three days before
* Martial. lib. vii. epig. 94.
+ The Latin is the only language that is so licentious as to con-
vey ideas so gross and nasty. Seneca says it is better to suppress
some things in silence, though it be to the detriment of the cause,
rather than to transgress the bounds of modesty. Senec, Contro-
vers. lib. i. Controv. 2, towards the end.
"Venerem Praxiteles in marmore quasi spirantem in templo
"Guidiorum collocavit, propter pulchritudinem operis, a libidinoso
❝cujusdam complexu parum tutam." Valer. Max. lib. viii. cap.
11, in Externis, sect. 4.


Herodot. lib. ii. p. 136.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
111
they were put into the hands of those persons who
had the charge of their interment. Periander acted
more wonderfully, who extended his conjugal affec-
tion (more regularly and legal) to the enjoyment of
his wife Melissa after she was dead.* Does it not
seem a lunatic humour in the moon, when she could
no otherwise enjoy her darling Endymion, to lay him
asleep for several months, and to please herself with
the fruition of a boy, who stirred not but in a
dream? I likewise say, that to love a body without
its consent and without its desire, is to love a body
without a soul. All enjoyments are not the same.
There are some that are hectic and languishing. A
thousand other causes, besides good will, may pro-
cure us this grant from the ladies. This is not a suf-
ficient testimony of affection. Treachery may lurk
there as well as elsewhere. They go to it sometimes
but with half a mind:
Tanquam thura merumque parent,†
Absentem marmoreámve putes.‡
So coldly they the sacrifice prepare,
You'd think they absent, or else marble are.
I know some ladies who had rather lend that than
their coach, and who only impart themselves that
way. You are to observe whether your company
pleases them upon any other account, or only for
that same, the endowment of some strong-chined
groom; and in what degree of favour you stand
with them:
Tibi si datur uni
Quo lapide illo diem candidiore nolet.§
Whether thy mistress favour thee alone,
And mark thy day out with the whiter stone.
What if she sops the bread she eats of yours in the
sauce of a more pleasing imagination ?
* Diog. Laertius, in the Life of Periander, lib. i. sect. 96.
+ Mart, lib. xi. ep. 105, ver. 12. Id. lib. xi. ep. 61, ver. 8.
§ Catull. ad Manlium, carm. 66, ver. 147.
112
ON SOME VÉRSES OF VIRGIL.
Te tenet, absentes alios suspirat amores.*
While in her arms intwin'd you don't discover,
She pants with longing for an absent lover.
What? have we not known a man in our own times
who made this act subservient to a horrid piece of
revenge, by that means to poison and kill an honest
woman? They who know Italy will never think it
strange if I seek not elsewhere for instances of this
kind. For that nation may be called the mistress of
there are as the world in this respect. They have generally finer
charming women, and fewer ordinary ones than we; but for
women and uncommon and excellent beauties I reckon that we
In France
many
common
Italy.
men of un- are upon a par. I form the same judgment of the
merit as in wits of the common class, of which it is plain that
they have many more. Brutality is, without com-
parison, more uncommon there. As for singular
geniuses, and those of the first rate, we are not at
all indebted to them. Were I to extend the com-
parison, I think I might say as to prowess, it is with
us popular and natural, contrary to what it is with
them; but we have seen it sometimes in their hands
to a degree so full and vigorous that it surpasses the
greatest instances we have of it.
The incon-
great re-
which the
Italians
keep their
wives.
The marriages of that country are very unhappy
veniences upon this account: their custom commonly imposes
of the too so harsh and slavish a law upon their wives, that the
straints in most remote acquaintance with a stranger is as great
a crime with them as the closest; the consequence
of which law is, that all reproaches become necessa-
rily substantial; and, since all comes to the same
account, they have a very easy choice to make.
And, when they have broke down those fences, de-
pend on it they are all on fire, Luxuria ipsis vinculis,
sicut fera bestia, irritata, deinde emissa: "Lust,
"like a wild beast, being enraged by being bound,
"breaks from its chain." It is necessary they
should have a little more rein:
* Tibull, lib. i. el. 6, ver. 35.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
113
Vidi ego nuper equum contra sua fræna tenacem,
Ore reluctanti fulminis ire modo.*
I saw, spite of his bit, a head-strong colt
Run with his rider like a thunderbolt.
The desire of company is abated by giving it some
liberty. It is a fine custom we have in our nation
that our children are admitted into good families, to
be entertained and bred up pages as in a school of
nobility. And it is looked upon as an incivility and
an affront to refuse a gentleman. I have taken no-
tice (for so many families, so many different styles and
forms), that the ladies who have chosen to subject
the maids of their retinue to the most austere rules,
have had no better luck than those who have al-
lowed them greater liberty. There is a necessity for
using moderation. A good part of their conduct should
be left to their discretion; for when all comes to
all, there is no discipline that can totally restrain
them. But it is very true, that she who comes off
safe and sound from a school of liberty, is more to be
trusted than she who comes away sound from a se-
vere and cloistered education.
to women.
Our ancestors formed the countenances of their Modesty
daughters to bashfulness and fear (their courage and necessary
desires being always alike), we ours to assurance.
We understand nothing of the matter. This is the
business of the Sarmatian ladies, who are not allowed
to lie with a man till they have killed another in bat-
tle with their own hands. For me who have no other
demand upon them than that they would give me hear-
ing, it is sufficient if they retain me for council accord-
ing to the privilege of my age. I advise them, there-
fore, as well as my own sex, to abstinence; but, if the
times we live in will not admit of this, let them be at
least discreet and modest. For as Aristippust is re-
ported to have said to certain young men, that
blushed at seeing him go into a bawdy-house, the
* Ovid. Amor. lib. iii. eleg. 4, ver. 13, 14.
+ Diog. Laert. in the Life of Aristippus, lib. ii. sect. 69.
VOL. III.
I
114
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
Mon-
taigne's
taste as to
of love.
crime is not in going in, but in not coming out.-
Let her that has no care of her conscience have
some regard however for her character; and, though
she be rotten within, let her carry a fair outside.
•
•
I commend a gradation and length of time in the
bestowing of their favours. Plato shows that, in all
the article sorts of love, facility and readiness are prohibited to
the defendants. For the women to yield so entirely
and rashly, without fear or wit, discovers a greedy
appetite, which they ought with all their art to con-
ceal. By their orderly and regular deportment in
their grant of their favours, they much more whet
our desire, and hide their own. Let them always
fly before us; I mean those who wish nevertheless
to be overtaken. They conquer us the better by
flight, like the Scythians. In truth, according to
the law that nature has imposed on them, it is not
properly their prerogative either to will or desire:
their part is to suffer, obey, and consent; for which
nature has given them a perpetual capacity, which
in us is uncertain. They have always their call, to
the end that they may be always ready for ours.
Pati Nate:* "They are born to be passive ;" and
whereas she has ordered that our appetites should
be manifested by a prominent show and declaration
of it, she has caused theirs to be hidden and in-
ternal, and furnished them with parts improper for
ostentation, and such as are merely defensive. Such
proceedings as this that follows must be left to the
Amazonian licence. Alexander, passing through
Hyrcania, Thalestris, queen of the Amazons, met
him with three hundred light-horse, of her own sex,
finely mounted and well armed, having left the re-
mainder of a great army that followed her, behind
the neighbouring hills; and when she came into his
presence, she spoke aloud to him, and said, "That
* These two words are taken out of Seneca, who, speaking
of the women of his time, says, that the sex born of the passive
gender was as lustful as that of the active gender, epist. 95.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
115
66
*
"the fame of his victories and valour had brought
"her thither to see him, and to make him an offer of
"her forces to assist him in his enterprises; and
that, finding him so handsome, young, and vigor-
ous, she, who was also perfect in all those quali-
"ties, advised him that they might lie together,
"to the end that, from the most valiant woman in
"the world, and the most valiant man then living,
"there might hereafter spring some great and won-
"derful issue." Alexander thanked her, and, to
give time for the accomplishment of her demand, he
stayed there thirteen days, which were spent with as
much mirth as possible to welcome so heroic a
princess.
love it is
wrong for
blame the
cy of the
We are, almost in every instance, unjust judges Why in
of their actions, as they are of ours. I pay the same
acknowledgment to the truth when it makes against the men to
me, as when it is on my side. It is an abominable levity and
intemperance that prompts them so often to change, inconstan-
and that hinders them from limiting their affection women.
to any one person whatsoever, as is evident in that
goodness, to whom are attributed so many changes,
and so many different paramours. But it is true, at
the same time, that it is contrary to the nature of
love if it be not violent, and contrary to the nature
of violence if it be constant. And they who make
it a wonder, who exclaim against it, and make such
an inquiry into the causes of this frailty of theirs, as
if it were unnatural and incredible, whence happens
it that they do not perceive how often they are
themselves guilty of the same without any astonish-
ment or miracle at all? It would, perhaps, be more
strange to see the passion fixed. It is not a passion
* Diodorus of Sicily, lib. xvii. cap. 16. But this historian does
not say that this queen of the Amazons offered Alexander troops,
to aid him in his military expeditions; and Quintus Curtius, lib. vi.
sect. 5, says expressly, that. Alexander having asked her if she
would go to the wars with him, she excused herself by saying,
that she had left nobody to be guardian of her kingdom; "Causata,
"sine custode regnum reliquisse."
I 2*
116
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
merely corporeal. If there be no end in avarice and
ambition, there is no end neither in carnal concupis-
cence. It exists even after satiety, and it is impos-
sible to prescribe either lasting satisfaction or end to
it. It always longs for something unpossessed; and
yet inconstancy is, perhaps, somewhat more pardon-
able in them than in us. They may plead, as well
as we, the inclination to variety and novelty, which
is common to both sexes; and secondly, they might
plead, whether we will admit it or not, that they buy
a pig in a poke. Joan, queen of Naples,* caused An-
dreosso, her first husband, to be hanged at the bars
of her window in a halter of gold and silk, wove
with her own hand, because that in the matrimonial
duties she found he had not the parts, and could
not make the efforts answerable to the expectation
she had conceived from his stature, beauty, youth,
and disposition, whereby she had been caught and
deceived. There is more labour required in doing
than in suffering; so that they are on their part
always at least provided for the supply of our exi-
gency, but it may happen otherwise on our part.
For this reason Plato wisely made a law, that before
every marriage, in order to prove its fitness, certain
judges should view the youths, who claimed it, stark
naked, and the women naked too, but not lower
than the waist. In their trial of us, perhaps, they do
not find us worthy of their choice :
Experta latus madidoque simillima loro
Inguina, nec lassâ stare coacta manu
Deserit imbelles thalamos.†
It is not enough that the will be good. Impotency
* Andrew, the son of Charles, king of Hungary, and the hus-
band of Joan I. queen of Naples. The Italians called him Adre-
osso. As to the tragical death of this prince, see Bayle's Dic-
tionary, in the article of JOAN I. of Naples.
† As was the case of Galla mentioned in Martial (lib. vii. ep.
57, ver. 3, &c.) who, being dissatisfied with six or seven husbands
whom she quitted, was likewise deceived by other husbands equally
deficient.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
117
ཞ, k
and insufficiency are lawful reasons for dissolving a
marriage :
Et quærundum aliunde foret nervosius illud,
Quod posset zonam solvere virgineam.*
And why should not she look out for an amorous
being, more licentious and active according to her
own standard?
Si blando nequeat superesse labori.t
The pleasing labour if he can't perform.
But is it not great impudence to bring our insuffici-
ency and impotency to the place where we desire to
give pleasure, and to leave a good opinion and cha-
racter of ourselves? For the little that I am able to
do now,
Ad unum
Mollis opus.‡
But once a night.
I would not tease a person whom I esteem and fear
to offend:
Fuge suspicari
Cujus undenum trepidavit cetas
Claudere lustrum. §
Let not your mind indulge suspicious fears
Of him who trembling draws to threescore years.
Nature ought to be satisfied with having rendered
this age miserable, without exposing it also to ridi-
cule. I hate to see it, for one poor inch of pitiful
vigour which warms thrice a week, to strut and push
on with as much eagerness as if it had length and
strength to perform mighty feats, which end in a
mere blaze of flax; and wonder to see its violent
itching so suddenly chilled and extinguished. This
is an appetite which can be in none but the flower of
* Catullus ad januam mæehæ cujusdam, carm. 65, ver. 27, 28.
+ Georg. lib. iii. ver. 127. + Hor. epod. lib. xii. ver. 15, 16.
Horace, lib. ii. ode 4, ver. 22.
118
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
beautiful youth. If you trust to nature, expecting
she will second that indefatigable, full, constant, and
magnanimous ardour which is in you, she will cer-
tainly leave you in the lurch. Return it, therefore,
boldly to some tender, bashful, and ignorant boy,
who still trembles under the lash and blushes at it:
Indum sanguineo veluti violaverit ostro
Si quis ebur, vel mista rubent ubi lilia, multâ
Alba rosa.*
So Indian iv'ry, stain'd with crimson, shows,
Or lilies white, mix'd with the damask rose.
He who can, without hanging down his head for very
shame, expect next day to face the disdain of those
fair eyes conscious of his fumbling impertinence,
Et taciti fecere tamen convicia vultus.†
And, though she nothing says,
How ill she lik'd my work. her look betrays.
When
he never felt the satisfaction and pride of having
tired them, and tarnished their lustre, by the vigor-
ous performance of one active heroic night.
I have observed any one of them to be disgusted
with me, I have not presently accused her levity,
but have been in doubt if I had not reason rather to
find fault with nature, which has certainly treated me
very unkindly and unjustly,
(Si non longa satis, si non bene mentula crassa :
Nimirum sapiunt videntque parvum
Matronae quoque mentulam illibenter.)‡
and done me a most enormous prejudice. Every
member I have is equally mine, as much one as an-
other; and no other more properly makes me a man
than this.
* Æneid, lib. xii. ver. 67.
† Ovid. Amor. lib. i. eleg. 7, ver. 21.
Of these three verses the first is the beginning of a sort of
epigram, entitled, Priapus in Veterum Poetarum Catalectis, and
the two others are taken from one of the first epigrams of the
same book, Ad Matronas, composed of five verses, two of which
are parodied by Montaigne.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
119
taigne's
ness of his
I ought to give the public my picture entire, with Mon-
The wise part of
all its lights and shades.
lec-
my apology
ture wholly consists in truth, liberty, and essence; for the li-
disdaining to admit those little feigned, common, and centious-
provincial rules into the catalogue of its real duties; style,
it is altogether natural, constant, and general; of
which civility and ceremony are daughters indeed,
but spurious. We are sure we shall have the appear-
ance of vices when we shall have had them in reality.
When we have done with these we run full drive
upon others, if we find it must be so for there is
danger that we fancy new duties, to excuse our neg-
lect of the natural ones, and so confound them.
That such is the case, it is visible that in places
where mistakes are mischiefs, the mischiefs are only
mistakes: that in nations where the laws of decency
are most rare and most remiss, the primitive rules of
common reason are best observed; such numberless
duties stifling and dissipating all our care. The
application to trifling things diverts our attention
from those which justly require it. What an easy,
plausible course, do these superficial men take, com-
pared with ours? These are shadows, wherewith we
palliate and pay one another. But, instead of pay-
ing, we inflame the reckoning towards that great
judge, who tucks up our rags and tatters round our
pudenda, and thoroughly scrutinises every part of
us, even to those that are the inmost and most secret.
It were a decent and useful quality of our virgin
modesty, could it prevent this discovery. In fine,
he that could reclaim man from so scrupulous a
verbal superstition, would do the world no great da-
mage. Our life is divided between folly and pru-
dence. Whoever writes nothing of it but what is
reverend and regular, leaves above one half behind.
I do not excuse myself to myself; and if I did, it
should be rather to apologise for my excuses than for
any other fault of mine. I excuse myself as to cer-
tain humours which, I think, are more in number
than those that I can justify. With regard to them

Y
120
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
1
Such fa-
vourites of
I have also this to say (for I desire to please every
body, as hard a matter as it is for a single man, esse
accommodatum ad tantam morum ac sermonum et
voluntatum varietatem :* «To accommodate him-
"self to so great a variety of manners, discourses,
" and determinations "), that they cannot condemn
me for making use of authorities which have been
received and approved of for many ages; and that
there is no reason that, for want of rhyme, they
should refuse me the dispensation which they allow
even to the churchmen of our nation and time. Of
this the two lines that follow are the most signal
examples:
Rimula, dispeream, ni monograma tua est.†
Un vit d' amy la contente et bien traitte.‡
What would you think of many others of the like
kind? I love modesty; and it is not from judgment
that I have chosen this scandalous sort of discourse;
it is nature that has chosen it for me. I commend it
not any more than all other terms of speaking con-
trary to received custom: but I excuse it, and, by
circumstances, both general and particular, mitigate
the accusation.
To pursue this subject: from whence can proceed
that usurpation of sovereign authority which you
pretend to over those ladies who favour you at their
own peril :
Si furtiva dedit migrâ munuscula nocte.§
If in the silence of the night
She has permitted stol'n delight.
so that you presently take upon you the interests,
the ladies coldness, and authority of a husband? It is a free
* Q. Cic. de Petitione Consulatus, cap. 14.
+ As to the too free poems which Beza composed in his youth,
they, who are curious in inquiries of this sort, may consult Bayle's
Critical Dictionary in the article of Bɛza, note x.
+ Beza, St. Gelasius.
Catull. ad Manlium, carm. 66, ver. 145.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
121
:
to them-
able autho-
tresses
at all imi-
convention; why then do you not stick to it, as you as arrogate
are desirous they should? There is no prescription as selves an
to things that are voluntary. It is not the fashion; unreason-
however, it is certain that I have, in my time,rity over
carried on this bargain as far as the nature of it will their mis-
admit, as conscientiously as any other contract what- blamed for
soever, and with some air of justice; and that I never it, and not
pretended to declare any affection for them but what tated by
I really had, and ingenuously discovered to them the Mon-
decay, strength, and source of it, together with his taigne.
fits and intermissions. A man does not always hold
on in the same pace. I have been so shy of promis-
ing, that I fancy my performances have exceeded
my promise, and even what I was obliged to do.
They have found me faithful, even to the service of
their inconstancy; even an inconstancy avowed, and
sometimes multiplied. I never broke with them
whilst I had the least hold of them; and, what occa-
sion soever they have given me, never broke with
them so far as to scorn or hate them. For such pri-
vacies, when even obtained upon terms the most
scandalous, yet oblige me to some benevolence. I
have sometimes discovered a little indiscreet anger
and impatience upon their tricks and subterfuges,
and in our disputes: for I am, by my constitution, sub-
ject to hasty sallies, which, though slight and short,
often spoil my market. If at any time they were
pleased to take my free thoughts, I have not failed to
give them fatherly, but sharp advice, and to pinch
them in the sore place. If ever I left them to com-
plain of me, it was rather that they found my love
foolishly conscientious in comparison with the mo-
dern custom. I have kept my word in things where-
in I might easily have been dispensed with. They
then surrendered sometimes with reputation, and on
such articles of capitulation as they easily suffered to
be violated by the conqueror. I have more than
once made pleasure, in its greatest effort, truckle to
the interest of their honour; and, when reason
urged me, have armed them against me; so that
122
VERSES OF VIRGIL.
ON SOME .
they conducted themselves with greater security and
gravity by my rules, when they frankly referred
themselves to them, than they would have done by
their own.
I have ever, to my utmost, taken upon
myself alone the hazard of our assignations, in order
to save them harmless and have always brought
about our interviews by intrigues the most unplea-
sant and unexpected, that they might be least mis-
trusted, while yet, in my opinion, they were the
more practicable. They are chiefly open in those
places where they think themselves sheltered.
Things that are the least feared are the least defended
and observed. One may more easily dare what no-
body thinks you would dare to do, which, through
its difficulty, becomes easy. Never had any man his
approaches more impertinently genital. This way
of loving is more according to discipline; but who
knows better than I how ridiculous and ineffectual
it is to our people; yet I shall not repent of it: I
have nothing more to lose by it :*
Me tabula sacer
Votiva paries indicat uvida
Suspendisse potenti
Vestimenta maris Deo.†
My votive table makes it plain
That I have quit the briny main,
And now in Neptune's fane my vest
Will show the evidence confess'd.
It is now high time to speak out: but perhaps 1
might say, as I would do at another time, thou talk-
est idly, my friend. The love of thy time has little
correspondence with faith and integrity :
Hæc si tu postule's
Ratione certa facere, nihilo plus agas,
Quàm si des operam, ut cum ratione insanias.‡
* Montaigne would signify by this, that, having been exposed by
love to many traverses, he had at length extricated himself from
that dangerous passion for ever.
+ Hor. lib. i. ode 5, ver, 13, &c.
‡ Terence Eunuch, act i. scene 1, ver. 16, &c,
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
123
4
These things should'st thou undertake,
By reason permanent to make;
This will be all thou'lt get by it,
Wisely to run out of thy wit.
•
-
So, on the contrary, were I to begin, it should cer-
tainly be by the same tract, and the progress should
be the same, how fruitless soever it might prove.
Incapacity and stupidity are commendable in an ac-
tion that is not praise-worthy. The farther I deviate
from their humour in this, the nearer I approach to
my own.
As for the rest, in this bargain I did not
suffer myself to be totally captivated; I was pleased
with it, but did not forget myself. I reserved the
little sense and discretion which nature has given
me, entire for their service and my own; a little
rapture, but no dotage.. My conscience was also
engaged in it, even to an excess of debauchery;
but never so far as to be guilty of ingratitude, ma-
lice, and cruelty. I did not purchase the pleasure of
this vice at any rate; but contented myself with its
proper and simple expense. Nullum intra se vitium
est*"Nothing is in itself a vice." I hate a stupid,
sluggish laziness almost as much as I do a crabbed
and painful employment. The one pinches me, the
other lays me asleep. I like wounds as well as
bruises, and cuts as well as dry blows. I found in
this commerce, when I was best qualified for it, a
just medium between the two extremes. Love is a
wakeful, sprightly, and gay agitation. I was not sick
nor sorry with it, but warmed; and, moreover,
changed by it. There it is necessary to make a stop.
It hurts none but fools. A young man asked Pane-
tius,t the philospher, if it was becoming a wise
man to be in love? "Let the wise man look to
ર
/
that," said he, "but let not thou and I, who
66 are not so, engage ourselves in an affair of so
"much agitation and violence as will enslave us to
"others, and render us contemptible to ourselves."
* Senec. epist. 95.
+ Idem, epis. 117.
124
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
He spoke the truth, that we ought not to trust a
passion, so giddy of itself, to a soul that has not for-
titude to withstand its assaults, nor to disprove the
saying of Agesilaus,* that prudence and love cannot
associate. It is, in truth, a vain occupation, inde-
cent, scandalous, and unlawful; but, to carry it on
after this manner, I reckon it wholesome, proper to en-
liven both the body and soul when dull and sluggish;
and, in quality of a physician, I would prescribe it
to a man of my make and condition as soon as any
other recipe whatsoever, to rouze and keep him in
vigour when far advanced in years, and to make him
dally with the attacks of old age. Whilst we are
but in the suburbs of it, and while the pulse yet
beats,
Dum nova canities, dum prima et recta senectus,
Dum superest Lachesi quod torqueat, et pedibus me
Porto meis, nullo dextram subeunte bacillo.†
Whilst my gray hairs do just approach in sight,
Whilst my old age is fresh, and stands upright;
Whilst on fate's spinning-wheel remains more thread,
And whilst, without a staff, firm is my tread.
we have need to be prompted, and tickled by some
such provocative. Do but observe with what youth,
vigour, and gaiety it inspired the sage Anacreon;
and Socrates, when he was older than I now am,
speaking of an amorous object, "Leaning,
Leaning," said
he," my shoulder to her shoulder, and touching
"her head with mine, as we were reading both to-
"gether in one book, I perceived, without jesting,
“a sudden sting in my shoulder, like some flea-bite,
"which crept about me five days after; and was
"accompanied with a continual titillation in my
"heart." What! did only an accidental touch, and
that by the shoulder, raise a heat, and create an al-
*" O! how hard a matter is it," said Agesilaus," for a man to
" be in love and his sober senses at one and the same time!" Plu-
tarch, in the Life of Agesilaus, chap. 4 of Amyot's translation.
+ Juv. sat. iii. ver. 26, &c.
+ Xenophon's Symposiacs, chap. 4, sect. 27, 28.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
125
teration in a breast that was chilled and enervated
by age; and one too that was the first reformer of
the human race! And pray why not? Socrates was
a man, and would neither be, nor seem to be, any
thing else. Philosophy does not combat natural
pleasures, provided they be used moderately; and
preaches up moderation, but not total abstinence.
It raves most against such pleasures as are foreign
to nature, and adulterated. It says, that the appe-
tites of the body ought not to be augmented by the
mind; and cautions us not to stuff instead of filling
the belly, to avoid all enjoyment that may bring us
to want, and all meats and drinks that create thirst
or hunger. So, in the service of love, philosophy
prescribes to us to take an object that may purely
satisfy the necessity of the body, and not move the
soul, which ought to have no share in the fact, but
simply to follow and assist the body. But have I
not reason to judge that these precepts, which are,
I think, however, in other respects a little too se-
vere, are only directed to a body that performs its
office; and that for a body in a state of decay, like
that of a weak stomach, it is excusable to warm
and support it by art; and, by the intervention of
the fancy, to restore the appetite and alacrity be-
cause it went off of itself?
opinion
and mind
other in
May we not say that there is nothing in us, dur- Mon-
ing this terrestrial imprisonment, that is purely taigne's
either corporeal or spiritual; that we injuriously that both
dismember a man alive; and that it seems but rea- the body
sonable that we should act as favourably with regard ought to
to pleasure as to pain? This was (for example) vehe- assist each
ment, even to perfection, in the souls of the saints the use of
by repentance; the body had naturally a share pleasure.
therein by the right of its union, and yet might
have little share in the cause; nevertheless, they
were not contented that the body should barely fol-
low and assist the afflicted soul. They afflicted it
by itself with grievous and peculiar torments, to the
126
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
The advan-
may be
reaped
from love
in an ad-
vanced
age.
end that both the body and the soul should strive to
plunge man in misery, by so much the more whole-
some as it is more piercing. So, in the pleasures of
the body, is it not injustice to deny the soul a share
in them, and to say that it must be dragged into
them as into some forced and servile obligation and
necessity? It is rather her part to hatch and foment
them; to present and invite herself to them, the
governing part being her prerogative; as it is also
her province, in my opinion, in those pleasures that
are peculiar to her, to inspire and infuse into the
body, all the sensation of them which its condition
can admit of; and to study how to make them agree-
able and salutary to it. For it is highly reasonable,
as they say, that the body should not pursue its ap-
petites to the prejudice of the soul; and why is it
not as reasonable that the soul should not pursue
her's to the prejudice of the body?
I have no other passion that keeps me in breath.
tages that The same effect that avarice, ambition, quarrels,
and law-suits have upon other persons, who, like
mę, are of no particular profession, love would
cause to much more advantage. It would render
me vigilant, sober, graceful, and careful of my per-
son. It would settle my countenance, so that it
could not be spoiled by the crabbed looks of old
age, those looks that are so ugly and so lamentable :
it would again put me upon solid and wise studies,
by which I might render myself more esteemed and
beloved, clearing my mind of the despair of itself,
and of its use, and making it again acquainted with
itself. It would divert me from a thousand uneasy
thoughts, a thousand melancholy chagrins, which
inactivity and an ill state of health bring upon us at
such an age. It would, in a dream at least, put
fresh warmth into that blood which nature has de-
serted. It would hold up the chin, and a little
stretch out the nerves, as well as add vigour and
alacrity to the life of that poor man, who is making
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
127
1
large strides towards his dissolution. But I am far
from being ignorant that it is a benefit very hard to
recover; by weakness and long experience our taste
is become more delicate and exquisite. We desire
most when we bring least; and are willing to have
the most choice when we least deserve to be accept-
ed. From our consciousness of this we are less
daring and more diffident; and, considering our
condition and theirs, nothing can assure us of being
beloved. I am ashamed of myself when in com-
pany with those young bucks:
Cujus in indomito constantior inguine nervus, *
Quàm nova collibus arbor inhæret.t
To what end should we carry on our misery where
there is-such mirth?
Possint ut juvenes visere fervidi
Multo non sine risu,
Dilapsam in cineres facem.‡
That youths, in fervent wishes bold,
Not without laughter, may behold
A torch, whose early fire
Could ev'ry breast with love inflame,
Now faintly spread a sickly gleam,
And in a smoke expire.
•
They have both strength and reason on their side;
let us give way to them; we have nothing more to
say for ourselves; and this blossom of springing
beauty is not to be touched by hands so stiff with
the cold, nor to be dealt with by methods that are
purely material. For as the ancient philosopher said
to his friend, that jeered him because he could not
gain the favour of a girl whom he passionately
courted, "Such new cheese will not stick to my
* Epod. lib. ode xii. ver. 19, 20.
·
ti. e. "We are always in a capacity of performing well." This
is a short paraphrase on the distich, by la. Fontaine, which those,
who do not understand the Latin, must be content with; for the
terms, made use of by Horace, convey such gross ideas, that we do
not choose to translate them literally.
Hor. lib. iv. ode 13, ver. 26, &c.
128
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
"hook."* It is a commerce that stands in need of
relation and correspondence. Other pleasures that
we receive are capable of being acknowledged by
returns of a different kind; but this is only to be
paid with the same coin. Really, in this sport, the
pleasure which I give tickles my imagination morè
than that which is given to me. Now, as he has not
a spice of generosity in him, who can receive plea-
sure where he gives none; it must needs be a mean
soul that desires to owe all, and can be contented
to maintain a conversation with persons to whom he
is a charge. There is no beauty, grace, or privacy,
so exquisite that a man of honour ought to desire
upon such terms. If they only can be kind to us
out of pity, I had much rather not to live at all,
than live upon charity. I would have right to de-
mand it of them, in the style that I saw used in
Italy, Fate ben per voi: "Do good for our own
"sake;" or in the manner that Cyrus exhorted his
soldiers: "Let him that loves me follow me." Con-
sort yourself (I shall be told) with women of your
own condition, who will, therefore, be more ready
to oblige you. O! sottish and insipid:
Nolo
Barbam vellere mortuo leoni.t
I will not twitch a dead lion by the beard.
Xenophon lays it for an objection, and an accusation
against Menon,t that none but women that had
passed their bloom were the objects of his amours.
I really take more pleasure in the bare sight of the
just and sweet mixture of two young beauties, or
only contemplating it in my fancy, than to act as a
second in such a sad disagreeable medley. I leave
this whimsical appetite to the emperor Galba,§ who
* Diog. Laertius, in the Life of Bion, lib. iv. sect. 47.
+ Mart. lib. ii. epig. 10, ver. 9, 10.
† Αυτός (Μενων) Παιδικα εἶχε Θαρύπαν, ἀγενείς ὢν γενεῶντα Κύριος άναβας,
lib. ii. cap. 6, sect. 15.
§ Suetonius, in the Life of Galba, sect. 22.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
129
&
1
fancied no flesh but what was tough and old; and
to that poor wretch in Ovid:
0
ego di faciant talem te cernere possim,
Charaque mutatis oscula ferre comis
Amplectique meis corpus non pingue lacertis !*
O! would to heav'n I such might thee behold,
To kiss those locks when thou in years art old,
And thy lank body in my arms enfold.
Amongst the chief deformities, I reckon beauties
that are artificial and forced. Emonez, a young
wench of Chios, thinking, by her fine head-geer,
to acquire the beauty which nature had denied her,
went to Arcesilaus,f the philosopher, and asked
him whether it was possible for a wise man to be in
love? "Yes truly, "replied he, "but not with an arti-
"ficial and counterfeit beauty like thine."
deformity of an avowed old face is not so ugly, in
my opinion, as another that is painted, or rather
plastered. Shall I say it without danger of being
taken by the collar for it? I do not take love to be
properly and naturally in season but in the age next
to childhood:
Quem si puellarum insereres choro,
Mille sagaces falleret hospites,
Discrimen obscurum, solutis
Crinibus, ambiguoque vultu.‡
Who, plac'd amongst the maids, defies
A skilful stranger's prying eyes,
So smooth his boyish looks appear,
So loose, so womanish his hair.
The
Nor beauty neither; for, though Homer extends it
to the budding of the chin, Plato himself has ob-
served it to be uncommon. And the reason why
the sophist Dion called the first down of beards
Aristogitons and Harmodians, is notorious. I think
:
* Ex Ponto, lib. i. ep. 4. To his wife, ver. 49, 50.
↑ Diog. Laert. in the Life of Arcesilaus, lib. iv. sect. 34.
‡ Horace, lib. ii. ode 5, ver. 20, &c:
VOL. III.
K
130
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
1
that in virility love is a little out of its place, but
much more in old age.
•
"
""
Importunus enim transvolat aridas
Quercus.*
O'er wither'd oaks the wanton flies.
Margaret, queen of Navarre, like a very woman as
she was, extends the advantage of the women to a
great length, ordering that thirty years of age
should be the season for changing the title of beau-
tiful into that of good woman. The shorter time
that we allow to love to keep possession of us, it is
so much the better for us. Do but observe its car-
riage. He is a beardless boy who knows not how
they behave in his school contrary to all order.—
Study, exercise, and practice, are ways for insuffi-
ciency to proceed by. Novices are the regents in
that school. Amor ordinem nescit :† "Love knows no
"order.' Doubtless, its conduct is more graceful
when mixed with inadvertency and trouble. Mis-
carriages and disappointments give it a spirit and a
grace. Provided it be sharp and eager, it is no great
matter whether it be prudent. Do but observe how
it goes staggering, tripping, and playing tricks. To
guide it by art and wisdom is putting it in the stocks;
and it is cramping its divine liberty to put it into
clutches so hairy and callous. For the rest, I have
often heard women represent this being as spiritual,
and scorn to take any notice of what interest the
senses have therein. Every thing is of service to it;
but I can say, I have often seen that we have ex-
cused the weakness of their understandings for the
sake of the beauty of their persons; but I never yet
saw, that, for the sake of the beauty of the mind,
* Horace, lib. iv. ode 13, ver. 9.
+ Mr. Cotton, in his translation, quotes St. Jerome for this, but
does not mention chapter nor page. Anacreon said, long before
him, that Bacchus, aided by love, was irregular in his frolics, ode
52, ver. ult.
ON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL.
how sedate and mature soever, the ladies were ever
inclined to lend a hand to support a body that was
fallen ever so little to decay. Why does not some
woman or other take it into her head to make that
noble Socratical barter of the body for the mind,
purchasing a philosophical and spiritual intelligence
and generation, at the price of her thighs, the high-
est price which she can set upon them? Plato or-
ders, in his laws, that whoever performed any signal
and advantageous exploit in war, should not, while it
lasted, be denied a kiss, or any other amorous favour,
by any woman whatsoever, his deformity or age not-
withstanding. What he thinks to be so just in re-
commendation of military valour, why may it not be
the same for the encouragement of any other valour?
And why does not some woman take a fancy to fore-
stal her companions in the glory of this chaste love?
may well
well say chaste:
I
Nam si quando ad prælia ventum est*
Ut quondam in stipulis magnus sine viribus ignis
Incassum furit.†
For when to join love's battle they engage,
Like fire in straw they vainly spend their rage.
The vices that are stifled in thought are not the
worst. To conclude this notable commentary, which
has escaped from me in a torrent of babble; a tor-
rent impetuous sometimes, and offensive:
Ut missum sponsi furtivo munere malum
Procurrit casto virginis è gremio:
Quod miseræ oblitæ molli sul veste locatum,
Dum adventu matris prosilit excutitur,
Atque illud prono præceps agitur decursu,
Huic manat tristi conscius ore rubor.‡
* Geo. iii. ver. 97.
+ The application which Montaigne here makes of Virgil's words
is very extraordinary, as will appear immediately to those who will
he at the pains of consulting the original.
‡ Catull. ad Hortalum, carm. 63, ver. 19, &c.
131
1
K 2
132
OF COACHES.
"
As a fair apple, by a lover sent
To his mistress for a private compliment,
Which tumbles from the modest virgin's lap,
Where she had quite forgot it, by mishap;
When, starting as her mother opes the door,
And falls out of her garments on the floor!
While as it rolls and she betrays surprise,
A guilty blush her fair complexion dies.
I say that males and females are cast in the same
mould; and that education and custom excepted,
the difference between them is not great. Plato
calls upon both sexes indifferently to associate in all
the studies, exercises, offices, and professions, mili-
tary and civil, in his republic. And the philosopher
Antisthenes* says, "The virtue of both is the same.'
It is much more easy to accuse one sex, than to ex-
cuse the other, according to the proverb, which says,
"Vice corrects sin."
CHAPTER V.
Of Coaches.
It is very easy to make it appear that great authors,
when they treat of causes, not only mention those
which they judge to be the true causes, but those
also which they think are not so; provided they have
any invention or beauty to recommend them. If
what they say be ingenious, it is true and useful
enough. We cannot be positive what is the chief
cause, and, therefore, muster up several to see if it
may not accidentally be amongst them:
Namque unam dicere causam
Non satis est, verùm plures unde una tamen sit.†
* Diog. Laert. in the Life of Antisthenes, lib. vi. sect. 12.
+ Lucret. lib. vi. ver. 703.
OF COACHES.
1.33
And thus my muse a store of causes brings;
For here, as in a thousand other things,
Though by one single cause th' effect is done,
Yet since 'tis had a thousand must be shown
That we may surely hit that single one.
Will you ask me whence comes the custom of bless-
ing those who sneeze? We produce wind three se-
veral ways; that which sallies from below is filthy;
that which is vented by the mouth bears some re-
proach of gluttony; the third eruption is sneezing,
which because it comes from the head, and is with-
out offence, we give it this civil reception. Do not
laugh at this crafty distinction; for they say it is
Aristotle's. I think I had read in Plutarch (who, of
all the authors I know, is he who has best mixed art
with nature, and judgment with science), giving for
a reason of the rising of the stomach in those who
go to sea, that it is occasioned by their fear; he
having found out some reason, by which he proves
that fear is capable of producing such an effect.t
I, who am very much subject to this effect, know
very well that it is not owing to this cause; and I
know it not by argument, but by unavoidable expe-
rience. Without instancing what I have been told,
that the same thing often happens to the beasts, es-
pecially to swine, when free from any apprehension
of danger; and what an acquaintance of mine has
told me of himself, that, being very subject to it, his
inclination to vomit has gone off two or three times,
being terrified to a great degree in a violent storm:
as it happened to that ancient, who said, Pejus vex-
abar quàm ut periculum mihi succureret : "I was
"too much disordered for the apprehension of dan-
ger to relieve me.". I never was afraid upon the
water; nor, indeed, elsewhere (and have often had
just reasons for fear, if death be such a cause), so as
to be disturbed and change countenance. Fear
4166
* In a tract, entitled Natural Causes, chap. 11. Yuxu ranov ixsoe
και θορυβόμενη συγκινεί καὶ ἀναπίμπησε τὸ σῶμα τῆς ταραχής.
+ Senec, ep, 53.
134
OF COACHES.
springs sometimes as well from want of judgment as
from want of courage. All the dangers which I have
been in I have looked upon, without winking, with
a free, solid, and entire countenance; and besides,
to be afraid requires courage. It has formerly served
me better than other courses, so to conduct and re-
gulate my flight, that it was, if not without fear, yet
without terror and astonishment. It was stirred in-
deed, but without amazement or stupefaction. Great
souls go much farther, and represent flights, not only
calm and temperate, but, moreover, intrepid. We
will mention that which Alcibiades* relates of So-
crates, his companion in arms; " After our army was
"routed, I found him and Lachez in the very rear
"of those who fled, and viewed him at my leisure,
"and in security, for I was mounted on a good
"horse and he on foot; and thus we had fought. I
"took notice in the first place with what delibera-
❝tion and resolution he fought, compared with
“Lachez, and then the gallantry of his step nothing
"different from his ordinary gait, his firm and regu-
"lar countenance, viewing and judging what passed
"about him, looking one while on those, and ano-
"ther while upon other friends and enemies, after
"such a manner as encouraged the one, and signi-
"fied to the other, that he would sell his life dear
"to any one that offered to take it from him; and
"so they saved themselves, for such men are not so
"liable to be attacked as those who run away are to
"be pursued." That was the testimony of this great
commander, which teaches us what we experience
every day, that nothing throws us so much into dan-
gers as an inconsiderate eagerness to keep clear of
them. Quo timoris minus est, eo minus ferme periculi
est: "Where there is the least fear, there is ge-
"nerally the least danger." When a man is ready
to declare that he thinks of death, and foresees it,
* Plato in his Banquet, p. 1206, of the Francfort edit. in 1602..
+ Titus Livy, lib. xxii. cap. 5.
OF COACHES.
135
+
our people are in the wrong to say that therefore he
is afraid of it. Our foresight of the good or ill that
affects us, is equally proper for us. To consider and
judge of danger is, in some sort, the reverse of being
astonished at it. I do not find myself strong enough
to sustain the shock and impetuosity of this passion
of fear, or of any other that is vehement. If I was
once conquered and beaten down by it, I should
never rise again entire. Whoever should once make
my soul lose its footing, would never restore it to
its right place. It searches, and probes itself too
deeply and too much to the quick, and would never
suffer the wound it had received to be closed and
skinned over.
It has been well for me that no sick-
ness has yet dismounted it. Every attack made upon
me I
oppose with a high hand; by which means the
first that should rout me would put it out of my
power ever to rally again. I have no after-game to
play. On which side soever the inundation breaks
my banks, I lie open, and am drowned without re-
medy. Epicurus said, that a wise man can never
turn fool; and I have an opinion the reverse of this
sentence, that he who has been once an arrant fool
will never after be very wise. God gives me cold
according to my clothing, and passions proportion-
able to the strength I have to bear them. Nature,
having laid me open on the one side, has covered me
on the other. She has disarmed me of strength,
but has armed me with insensibility, and an appre-
hension that is either moderate or dull. I have not
for some time (and much less when I was young)
been reconciled to a coach, litter, or boat: and hate
all other riding but on horseback, both in town and
country. But to me a litter is more intolerable than
a coach; and for the same reason I had rather be
tossed upon the water, so as to give me fear, than be
rocked in a dead calm. By the little jerks I feel
from the oars stealing the vessel from under me, I
find both my head and stomach disordered I know
not how, since I cannot endure that my seat should
•
136
OF COACHES.
The use of
Coaches in
battle.
}
tremble. When the sail, or the current of the water,
keeps us upright, or when we are in tow, that regu-
lar agitation gives me no uneasiness. It is an inter-
rupted motion that offends me, and most of all when
it is most languid; I know not how to express it
otherwise. The physicians have ordered me to
squeeze and gird the bottom of my belly with a nap-
kin as a remedy; which, however, I have not tried,
being accustomed to struggle with my own infirmi-
ties, and to overcome them by myself.
Did my memory serve me, I would not think my
time ill spent in setting down here the infinite variety
that we find in histories as to the use of chariots in
the service of war; various according to the nations,
and according to the ages; and, in my opinion, of
great effect and necessity, insomuch that it is a won-
der we have lost all knowledge of them. I will only
say this, that very lately, in the time of our fathers,
the Hungarians made very advantageous use of them
against the Turks; every one of them having a targeteer
and a musketeer, and a number of harquebusiers
ready charged, and all covered with a target-fence,
like that which defends the rowers in a galley. They
set three thousand such chariots in the front of their
battle, and, after their cannon had played, made
them all pour in their shot upon their enemy, and
force them to swallow that discharge, before they
tasted of the rest, which was no little advance; or
else they drove the said coaches into their squadrons
to break and open a passage through them; besides
the use which they might make of them in a dan-
gerous place to flank the troops marching into the
field, or to cover a lodgment speedily, and fortify it.
In my time a gentleman, in one of our frontier
places, who was unweildly, and could procure no
horse able to carry his weight, having a quarrel upon
his hands, rode through the country in a chariot of
this fashion, and found great convenience in it. But
we will leave these military chariots.
The last kings of our first race, as if their effe-

OF COACHES.
137
luxury.
minacy had not been sufficiently manifest by other The use of
proofs of it,* travelled through the country lolling coaches for
in a chariot drawn by four oxen. Mark Antony
was the first that caused himself to be drawn at
Rome by lions harnessed to his coach, in which a
singing wench rode with him. Heliogabalus did as
much afterwards, calling himself Cybele, the mother
of the gods, and was also drawn by tigers, counter-
feiting the god Bacchus; he also one while harnessed
a brace of stags to his coach, at another time four
dogs, and at another four whores, by whom he was
drawn in state, both himself and they stark naked.
The emperor Firmis caused his coach to be drawn
by ostriches of a prodigious size, so that it seemed
rather to fly than run upon wheels.S
penses un-
The strangeness of these inventions puts this other Extrava
fancy into my head, that it is a kind of pusillanimity gant ex-
in monarchs, and a proof that they are not sufficiently becoming
sensible what they are, when they court honour, and in aprince.
affect a grand appearance by excessive expense. It
were, indeed, excusable when in a foreign country;
but when a prince is among his own subjects, where
4
* Mr. Cotton, by not adverting to a transposition made here by
his author, has been deceived in his meaning, and begins the para-
graph thus, "As if the insignificancy of coaches had not been suffi-
"ciently known by better proofs," &c. This mistake of so able a
translator, has obliged me to explain this passage, which is liable
to be misunderstood also by many others. I shall only add, that this
kind of transposition, in which all the difficulty lies, being very fa-
miliar to Montaigne, his translator ought to be well acquainted with
it. As every man has his particular gait and tone of voice, so
every author has his peculiar style. If a translator duly considers,
before-hand, the turn, the manners, and, as one may say, the very
steps of his original, he would often understand it by half a word;
but if he neglect to make it familiar to him, by contenting himself
with a vague understanding of it that is merely grammatical, he will
every now and then make the author, whom he translates, speak
the very contrary to what he means; and generally, instead of enter-
ing into the spirit of his author, will only express his meaning in a
very imperfect manner.
·

Plutarch, in the Life of Mark Antony, chap. 3.
Ælius Lampridius, p. 110, 111. Hist. August,
§ Flavii Vopisse Firmus, p. 244, Hist. August.
138
OF COACHES,
*
he may do what he list, it derogates from his dignity,
which is the highest degree of honour that he is ca-
pable of attaining to. So methinks, it is superfluous
in a private gentleman to go finely dressed at home,
since his house, his retinue, and his table, answer
sufficiently for him. The advice that Isocrates gives
to his king seems to be grounded upon reason, viz.
that he should be splendid in his furniture and
utensils, as it is an expense in what is durable, and
will pass to his successors; and that he should avoid
all sorts of magnificence which soon grow out of
fashion, and are forgot. I loved to go fine when I
was a younger brother, for want of other ornament,
and it became me well. There are some people
upon whom fine clothes are an eye-sore. We have
admirable stories of the frugality of our kings with
respect to their persons and gifts: kings that were
great in reputation, merit, and fortune. Demos
thenes pleads strenuously against the law of the city
that assigned the public money for the pomp of their
games and festivals. He would have their grandeur
displayed in a number of ships well equipped, and
good armies well provided for: and Theophrastust
is justly to be blamed, who, in his book of Riches,
has established a contrary opinion, and maintains
that an expense of this nature is the true fruit of opu-
lence. These are pleasures, says Aristotle, that
only affect the lowest class of the people, that vanish
from their remembrance as soon as they are glutted
with them, and of which no serious and judicious
man can have any esteem.§ Such expense would, in
my opinion, be much more royal, as well as more
* Orat. ad Nicoclem, p. 32, Paris edit. for John Libert, anno 1621.
+ The author of this censure was Cic. de Offic. lib. ii. cap. 16,
where he says, "Miror quod in mentem venerit Theophrasto, in eo
"libro quem de divitiis scripsit; in quo multa præclare, illud ab-
"surdè. Est enim multus in laudandâ, magnificentiâ, et appara-
"tione popularium munerum; taliumque sumptuum facultatem
"fructum divitiarum putat.'

""
All this is also taken from Cic. de Offic. lib. ii. cap. 16.
And this likewise, ibid. cap. 17.
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139
useful, just, and durable, in ports, docks, walls, and
fortifications; in sumptuous fabrics, churches, hospi-
tals, colleges, the repair of streets and highways;
for which the memory of pope Gregory XIII. will
be reverend to late posterity: and wherein our
queen Katharine would manifest her natural gene-
rosity and magnificence to succeeding ages, if she
had it as much in her power, as she has it at heart.
Fortune has vexed me much by interrupting the fine
structure of the Pont-neuf of our great city, and de-
priving me of the hopes of ever seeing it finished.
•
are disgust-
without
Moreover, the subjects, who are spectators of The people
these triumphs, are apt to think that the riches dis- ed with it,
played before them are their own, and that they are and not
entertained at their own cost. For the people are reason.
ready to presume of kings as we do of our servants,
that they ought to take care to provide us abundantly
with all that we want; but that they ought not to
finger any part of it themselves. And, therefore,
the emperor Galba, being pleased with the perform-
ance of a certain musician who played to him at sup-
per, called for his coffer, and gave him a handful of
crowns which he took out of it, with these words,
"This is not the public money, but my own.
But so it is, that the people are most commonly in
the right, and that their eyes are fed with what they
had once to feed their bellies.
""
berality
cking, and
Liberality itself shines not with its true lustre in Whether li
a sovereign hand. It best becomes private people; well be-
for, to consider the matter nicely, a king has no- comes a
thing properly his own; and he owes even himself to what de-
to others. Jurisdiction is not granted in favour of gree.
the magistrate, but of the people that become sub-
ject to it. A superior is never created such for his
own profit, but that of the inferior; and a physician
for the sick person, nor for himself. All magistracy,
as well as every art or mystery, is designed for exter-
nal application. Nulla ars in se versatur:* "No art
* Cicero has these words, "Semper illud extrà est quod arte.
140
OF COACHES.
•
“is
" is confined within itself." Therefore the gover-
nors of young princes, who study to imprint this
virtue of liberality on their minds, and preach to
them to deny nothing, and to reckon nothing so well
laid out as what they give (a lesson which I have
known to be very much in vogue), either have more
regard to their own profit than that of their
sovereign, or do not well understand whom they
speak to.
It is a very easy matter to imprint
liberality in the person who has as much as he will
to supply it with at the expense of another. And
the estimate of it not being formed according to
the value of the present, but upon the wealth of
the giver, it dwindles to nothing in such able hands.
They become prodigal before they are liberal: and
yet their liberality is but of small recommendation
compared with the other royal virtues; yet it is the
only one, as Dionysius said, that suits well with
tyranny itself. I would rather teach him that verse
of the ancient husbandman:
Τῇ χειρὶ δεῖ σπείρειν, ἀλλὰ μὴ ολω τῷ θυλακῶ.*
"That whoever hopes for a good crop, must sow
“with his hand, and not pour the seed out of the
66
bag." The grain should be scattered, and not
cast on the ground in heaps; and that since he is to
give, or rather pay and make amends to so many
people, according to their deserts, he ought to dis-
tribute with justice and deliberation. If the bounty
"comprehenditur. Nihil opus est exemplis hoc facere longius; est
"enim perspicuum nullam artem in se versari sed esse aliud artem
ipsam, aliud quod propositum sit arti." De Finib. Bon, et Mal.
lib. v. cap. 6. How happy would be the subjects of Persia, Indos-
tan, &c. if their princes and ministers had the wisdom and virtue to
draw from this great principle the conclusion which naturally flows
from it, and which Montaigne here points out to them?
* This maxim Montaigne has quoted from a small tract of Plu-
tarch, entitled Whether the Athenians were more excellent in
Arms than in Learning, chap. 4, where Corinna makes use of it to
convince Pindar that he had in one of his poems inserted too many
fables.
OF COACHES.
141
$
of a prince be without discretion, and without mea-
sure, I had rather he were covetous.
ર
the truly
tue, and
pany the
The virtue of royalty seems to consist most in What is
justice; and of all the parts of justice, that best properly
denotes the king, which accompanies his liberality; royal vir-
for this they have particularly reserved to their own that ought
province, whereas all other justice they remit to the to accom-
administration of others. Lavish bounty is a very bounty of
weak means to acquire them good will; for it dis- kings.
gusts more people than it brings over to them. Quo
in plures usus sis, minus in multos uti possis.—Quid
autem est stultius, quàm, quod libenter facias,
curare, ut id diutiùs facere non possis ?* "The more
"you dispense to some, the less you will be able to
dispense to many; and what greater folly can
"there be than to order it so, that what you are
heartily inclined to do, you put it out of your
power to perform long?" And if it be conferred
without regard to merit, it puts him to the blush
who receives it, and is received with an ill grace.
Tyrants have been sacrificed to the hatred of the
people by the hands of those very men whom they
have unjustly advanced; such kind of men thinking
to secure to themselves the possession of benefits
unduly received, if they discover a contempt and
hatred of him from whom they derived them; and
in this they join with the common judgment and
opinion.
(6
CC
of a prince
the crav-
When a prince makes exorbitant grants, his subjects It is not in
make exorbitant demands, and accommodate them- the power
selves not to reason, but example. We have reason, to satisfy
certainly, very often to blush at our own impudence. ings of his
We are overpaid, according to justice, when the subjects.
recompense equals our service; for do not we owe
something to our prince by natural obligation? If he
bears our expense he does too much; it is enough
that he contributes to it: the overplus is called a
benefit which cannot be demanded, for the very
* Cicero de Offic. lib. ii. cap. 15.
142
OF COACHES.
lity of a
from
whence
princes
may learn
properly.
name of liberality sounds of liberty. As we use it
there is no end of it. We never reckon what we
have received. We are only for that liberality
which is to come. For which reason, the more a
prince exhausts himself in giving, the poorer he be-
comes in friends. How should he satisfy those
longing appetites, which the more they are fed the
more they crave? He whose thoughts are bent upon
grasping, never more thinks of what he has grasped.
There is nothing so peculiar to covetousness as in-
gratitude.
name.
4
*
Example of The example of Cyrus will not do amiss in this
the libera- place, to serve the kings of the age as a touchstone
prince, to know whether their bounties are well or ill be-
stowed, and to show them how much better that
emperor proportioned them than they do. By this
to bestow means they are reduced afterwards to borrow of
their gifts their unknown subjects; and rather of them to
whom they have done wrong, than of those to whom
they have done good; and so receive aids from
them, wherein there is nothing of a free gift but the
Croesus reproached him for his largess, and
cast up how much his treasure would have amounted
to if he had been closer fisted. Cyrus longed to
justify his liberality, and therefore sent dispatches
into all parts to the grandees of his dominions, whom
he had particularly advanced, requesting every one
of them to assist his necessity with as much money
as he could spare, and to send it to him with a note
of the sums. When all the bills were brought to
him, every one of friends, not thinking it enough to
offer him only so much as he had received from his
bounty, and adding to it a great deal of his own,† it
happened that this sum amounted to much more
than if he had been as frugal as Croesus would have
had him: whereupon Cyrus said, "I am as much
* In Xenophon's Cyropædia, lib. viii. sect. 9.
+ Idem, ibid. sect. 10. Δέχεται δε λοχιζόμενα ὁ Κροῖς @ πολλαπλάσια
εὐρεῖν, ἢ ἔφη Κύρω ἂν εἶναι ἐν τοῖς θησαυροῖς ἤδη, εἰ συνέλεγεν.
ei
اد
ૢ k¢v
Idem, ibid. sect. 11.
of coaches.
148
"in love with riches as other princes, but rather a
"better manager. You see with what a small de-
"posit I have gained the inestimable treasure of so
CC
many friends, and how much more faithful trea-
f6 surers they are to me then mercenary men would
"be without obligation, without affection; and that
cc my cash is better lodged than in chests, which
"would bring upon me the hatred, envy, and con-
"tempt of other princes."
the em-
the public
The emperors alleged the dependency of their The ex-
authority in some measure (at least in appearance) penses of
on the good will of the Roman people, as an excuse perors at
for the superfluity of their plays and public spec-spectacles,
tacles; they having been accustomed at all times to why not
be humoured, with such extravagant shows and en-justifiable.
tertainments. But they were private men who had
brought up this custom to gratify their fellow-citizens
and companions by such profusion and magnificence,
chiefly at their own expense; the custom had quite
another taste when it came to be kept up by the
sovereigns. Pecuniarum translatio a justis dominis
ad alienos non debet liberalis videri:* "The trans-
"ferring of money from the right owners to others
"ought not to be deemed liberality.
by his fa-
to gain the
Philip, perceiving that his son went about to gain Alexander
the affection of the Macedonians by presents, re- reproved
primanded him in a letter, after this manner, viz. ther for en-
"What could mislead you to think that those will deavouring
"be faithful to you whom thou hast bribed with affection of
"money? Have you a mind that the. Macedonians the Mace-
"should look upon you not as a sovereign, but as presents.
"their cash-keeper and corrupter? If you would
"practise upon them, do it by the good deeds of
"virtue, and not by bounty from thy coffers."+
donians by
ing the
It was, however, a fine thing to bring to the A digres
theatre, and therein plant a great number of large sion touch
trees, with all their branches in full verdure, repre- magni-
senting a great shady forest, beautifully disposed in cence of
* Cicero de Offic. lib. i. cap. 14.
† Idem, lib. ii. cap. 15.
the spec-
144
OF COACHES.
which the
tertained
tacles with just symmetry; and, on the first day, to throw into
Roman em-it a thousand ostriches, a thousand stags, a thousand
perors en- boars, and as many fallow-deer, and abandon them
the people. to the prey of the people; and the next day to
cause a hundred great lions, as many leopards, and
three hundred bears to be knocked on the head in
his presence; and, on the third day, to make three
hundred couple of gladiators fight in earnest; all
which was done by the emperor Probus. It was also
very fine to see those vast amphitheatres cased with
marble, curiously set off with figures and statues,
and the inside shining with rare decorations :
Baltheus en gemmis, en illita porticus auro.*
Behold a belt, with jewels glorious made,
And a brave portico with gold o'erlaid.
All the sides of this great space filled and environed,
from the bottom to the top, with sixty or eighty
rows of seats, all of marble also, and covered with
cushions:
Exeat, inquit,
Si pudor est, et de pulvino surgat equestri,
Cujus res legi non sufficit.†
They who by law can't make a title fit,
Let such, for shame, th' equestrian cushion quit.
where an hundred thousand spectators might sit at
their ease; and to make the stage, where the plays
were performed, first open by art, and to cleave into
chasms representing dens, from which issued out
the beasts designed for the spectacle; and then,
* I know not what is strictly to be understood here by the word
baltheus. In the amphitheatres this term was applied to certain steps
that were higher and wider than the others, as may be seen in the
Antiquities of Father Montfaucon, tom. iii. part ii. p. 256. Father
Tachart, in his Latin and French Dictionary, says, that the word is
used by Vitruvius to denote a belt or girdle round the bottom and top
of a column. Whether jewels would make a better figure there
than on Montfaucon's steps, I leave to the determination of the con
noisseurs.
+ Calphurnius, eclog. 7, entitled Templum.
Juv. sat. iii. ver. 153.
12
OF COACHES.
145
secondly, to bring a deluge of water upon the stage,
carrying sea-monsters, and ships of force to repre-
sent a sea-fight; and, thirdly, to drain and dry the
stage again for the combat of the gladiators; and,
for the fourth scene, to have the stage strewed with
vermilion and storax, instead of sand, there to make
a solemn feast for all that vast multitude of people;
which is the last act of one day only:
}
:
Quoties nos descendentis arence
Vidimus in partes, ruptaque voragine terræ
Emersisse feras, et iisdem sæpe latebris
Aurea cum croceo creverunt arbuta libro.
}
Nec solum nobis silvestria cernere monstra
Contigit, æquoreos ego cum certantibus ursis
Spectavi vitulos, et equorum nomine dignum;
Sed deforme pecus:*
How often, when spectators, have we seen
Part of the spacious theatre sink in,
And, from a sudden chasm in the earth,
Start up wild beasts: then presently give birth
Unto a shining grove of golden bow'ts,
Of shrubs that blossom'd with enamell'd flow'ts?
Nor yet of sylvan monsters had we sight
Alone; I saw sea-calves with wild bears fight;
And a deformed sort of cattle came,
Which river or sea-horses we might name.
Sometimes they have made a high mountain rise full
of fruit-trees, and others of verdure; from the tops
of which trickled down a current of water, as from
the mouth of a fountain. One while a great ship
came rolling in, which opened and divided of itself;
and after having disgorged from its hold four or
five hundred beasts for fight, closed again, and dis-
appeared of itself. At other times, from the bottom
of this stage, they caused sweet-scented waters to
spout upwards, and dart their threads to such a pro-
digious height as to sprinkle and perfume the vast
multitude of spectators. Then, to defend them-
selves from the wind, rain, or heat, they had that
VOL. III.
* Calphurn. eclog. 7, ver. 64 to 72.
L
?

146
OF COACHES.
huge fabric covered over with purple curtains of
needle-work, or of silk of various colours, which
they could either draw or undraw as they pleased:
Quamvis non modico caleant spectacula sole
Vela reducuntur cum venit Hermogenes.*
The curtains, though the sun does scorch the skin,
Are, when Hermogenes † appears, drawn in.
The net-work also, that was set before the people to
defend them from the fury of those wild beasts, was
of gold-tissue:
Retia.t
Auro quoque torta refulgent
And woven nets refulgent are with gold.
If there be any thing excusable in extravagances of
this kind, it is where the invention and novelty
furnish admiration, and not the expense. In the
same vanities we discover how fruitful those ages
were in wits of a different kind from ours. It fares
with this sort of fertility as it does with all other
productions of nature. Not that she therein em-
ployed her utmost effort at that time. We do not
travel, we rather roam up and down, and whirl this
way and that; and tread the same ground over
again. I am afraid our knowledge is weak in every
respect. We do not look far, and scarce at all be-
hind us. Our understanding comprehends little,
and exists but a little while, it being short, not only
in extent of time, but of matter:
Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona
Multi, sed omnes illacrymabiles
Urgentur, ignotique longâ
Nocte.§
* Martial, lib. xii. ver. 15, 16.
+ This Hermogenes was an arrant thief, and they took down the
curtains for fear he should find some means or other to steal them
away.
Calphurnius, eclog. 8, entitled Templum, ver. 53.
Horace, lib. iv. ode 9, ver. 25, &c.
+
f
OF COACHES.
147
Before great Agamemnon reign'd,
Reign'd kings as great as he, and brave;
Whose huge ambition's now contain'd
In the small compass of a grave:
In endless night they sleep, unwept, unknown.
Et supera bellum Thebanum et funera Troja,*
Multi alias alii quoque res cecinere poetæ.†
And long before the wars of Thebes and Troy,
On other things bards did their song employ.
Solon's account of what he had learned from the
Egyptian priests, of the long duration of their state,
and of their way of learning and preserving foreign
histories, is not, methinks, a testimony to be slighted
upon this consideration. Si interminatam in omnes
partem magnitudinem regionum videremus et tempo-
rum,‡ in quam se injiciens animus et entendens, ita
late longeque peregrinatur, ut nullam oram ultimi
videat, in qua possit insistere: in hac immensitate-
infinita vis innumerabilium, appareret formarum:§.
"Could we see that boundless extent of countries
"and ages, in all their parts, on which the mind,
66
being fixed and intent, might ramble where and
"when it list, without meeting with any limits to
"its sight, we would discover innumerable forms in
"that immensity." Though all that is arrived to
our knowledge of the time past should be true, and
known by any one person, it would be less than
nothing compared with what is unknown. And of
* Montaigne diverts himself here in giving Lucretius's words in
this distich, a construction directly contrary to what they bear in
that poem.
+ Lucret. lib. v. ver. 327, &c.
+ Here also Montaigne puts a sense quite different from what the
words bear in the original; but the application he makes of them is
so happy that one would declare they were actually put together only
to express his own sentiment. "Et temporum" is an addition by
Montaigne, and, instead of "infinita vis innumerabilium, appareret
"formarum," it is in Cicero "infinita vis innumerabilium volitat
"atomorum.” These two last are sufficient to show that Cicero
treats of quite another thing than what Montaigne does here.
Cic. de Natura Deorum, lib. i. cap. 20.
L 2
148
OF COACHES.
this very image of the world, which glides away
while we are in it, how scanty and contracted is the
knowledge of the most curious inquirers? Not only
of particular events, which fortune often renders ex-
emplary and important, but of the state of great
governments and nations, not above a hundredth
part has reached our knowledge. We make a parade
of the wonderful invention of our great guns, and
of our printing, which other men, at the other end
of the world, in China, enjoyed a thousand years
before us.
Did we but see as much of the world as
we do not see, it is probable we would perceive a
perpetual multiplication and vicissitude of forms.
There is nothing single and rare in respect to nature,
nor, indeed, with regard to our knowledge, which
is a wretched foundation for our rules, and fondly
presents us with a very false image of things. As
we, now-a-days, vainly infer the world to be in a
state of declension and decrepitude by the arguments
we draw from our own weakness and decay:
Jamque adeò affecta est ætas, effætaque tellus.*
So much the age, so much the earth decays.
•
In like manner did he, of old, vainly conjecture the
birth and youth of the world, by the vigour he ob-
served in the wits of his time abounding in novelties,
and the invention of divers arts :
Verùm, ut opinor, habet novitatem summa, recensque
Natura est mundi, neque primum exordia cæpit :
Quare etiam quædam nunc artes expoliuntur,
Nunc etiam augescunt, nunc addita navigiis sunt
Multa.t
But sure the nature of the world is strong,
And, since it first began, it can't be long;
The reason, why I think so, is, we know
That arts increase, and still politer grow;
And many things, from former times conceal'd,
Are by extensive commerce new reveal'd.
*Lucret. lib. ii. ver. 1150.
+ Idem, lib. v. ver. 331, &c.
OF COACHES.
149
the genius
bitants
when
discovered.
This world of ours has lately found out another of the new
(and who will assure us that this is the last that will world, and
be discovered, since the Demons, the Sibyls, and we of its inha-
too were, till now, quite ignorant of it), altogether antit
as big, populous, and fruitful as this; and yet such was first
a novice, so much a child, that it still learns its A, B,
C. It is not fifty years ago that it knew neither
letters, weights, measures, vestments, corn, nor
vines. It was even quite naked in its mother's lap,
and only lived upon what she nursed it with.
If we
rightly judge of our period, and this poet also, of
the youth of the age he lived in, this other world
will be but just entering into light when ours shall
make its exit. The universe will be paralytic; one
member will be benumbed, another in vigour. I
fear, indeed, that we shall have very much hastened
the decay and ruin of the new world by our infec-
tion, and that it will pay very dear for our opinions,
and our arts. It was an infant world; yet we have
not whipped, nor subjected it to our discipline by
our valour and natural strength; we have neither
won the people by our justice and goodness, nor
subdued them by our magnanimity. Most of their
answers, and the negotiations we have had with them,
prove that they were not inferior to us in the clear-
ness of natural understanding and apprehension.
The astonishing magnificence of the cities of Cusco
and Mexico, and, among many things of the like.
kind, the garden of that king, wherein all trees,
fruits, and herbs, according to the order and size
they are of in a garden, were curiously figured in
gold; as were in his closet all the animals bred in his
dominions and the sea; and the beauty of their ma-
nufactures in jewels, feathers, cotton, and painting,
show that they likewise did not yield to us in indus-
try. But as for devotion, observance of the laws,
goodness, liberality, loyalty, and plain dealing, it
was of service to us that we had not so great a share
of those virtues as they. For, by this advantage,
they ruined, sold, and betrayed themselves.
· 150
OF COACHES.
The Spa-
dued the
by craft
and sur-
prise, ra-
by valour.
ther than
As to boldness and courage, steadiness, constancy,
niards sub- and a resolution to bear pains, hunger, and even
Americans death, I would not fear to set the examples I find
among them in comparison with the most noted in-
stances in antiquity that are to be met with in the
memoirs of our side of the globe. For as those
who have subdued them, take away but the tricks and
frauds which they made use of to gull them, and the
just cause which those nations had of astonishment
to see so sudden and unexpected an arrival of men
with beards, differing in language, religion, form,
and countenance, from so remote a part of the world,
which they never heard was at all inhabited, mount-
ed on great monsters to them unknown, against
such as had not so much as ever seen a horse before,
or any other beast trained up to carry a man or any
other burden; to see those men cased with a shining,
impenetrable shell, and armed with a cutting and
glittering blade, brandishing it against those who,
out of wonder at the brightness of a looking-glass or
a knife, would truck great wealth in gold and pearls
for them; and who had neither the skill nor matter
wherewith to penetrate our steel, if they had ever so
much time: add to this the thunder and lightning of
our cannon and muskets, enough to have frightened
Cæsar himself had he been surprised when so unex-
perienced, and now against a naked people, except
where they had the apparel of quilted cotton, with-
out other arms, at the most, but bows, stones, staves,
and bucklers of wood: a people over-reached, under
the colour of friendship and good faith, by a curi-
osity of seeing things strange and unknown: take
away, I say, this disparity from the conquerors, and
you take away from them all the source of so many
victories. When I consider that invincible ardour
wherewith so many thousands of men, women, and
children so often presented and threw themselves
into unavoidable dangers, for defence of their gods
and their liberties; that generous obstinacy to suffer
all extremities and difficulties, and even death, rather
OF COACHES.
151
t
cans would
they had
of
than submit to the government of those by whom
they were so shamefully abused; and some choosing
to die of hunger, and to starve themselves to death,
after being made prisoners, rather than to accept of
nourishment from the hands of their enemies so
basely victorious: I foresee, that whoever should
have attacked them, supposing an equality of arms,
experience, and numbers, would have had a dan-
gerous, if not a more desperate task to manage than
in any other war we have seen. What pity it is that The Ameri-
so noble a conquest did not fall to Alexander, or to have been
those ancient Greeks and Romans; and that so great happy if
a revolution and change of so many empires and na-fallen into
tions had not been effected by hands that might have the hands
used them courteously, and refined them by grub-querors
bing up what was savage amongst them, cherishing, more bu-
and propagating the good seed which nature had pro- polite.
duced there; and by not only mingling in the cul-
ture of their lands, and the ornament of their cities,
the arts of this part of the world, but incorporating
the virtues of the Greeks and Romans with those
that were originals of their country! What a repa-
ration, and what an amendment would it have been
to the whole world, had our first examples and de-
portment in those parts allured the people to the ad-
miration and imitation of virtue, and formed a fra-
ternal society and understanding between them and
us! How easy would it have been to have made ad-
vantage of minds so undisciplined and so thirsty for
knowledge, and such as, for the greatest part, had
good natural parts to work upon.
mane and
they were
ards.
On the contrary, we have taken advantage of their with what
ignorance and inexperience, with the greater ease to barbarity
incline them to treachery, luxury, avarice, and to treated by
all sorts of inhumanity and cruelty, by the example the Spani-
and pattern of our manners. Was paltry traffic
ever promoted at so dear a rate? So many cities
demolished, so many nations exterminated, so many
millions of people put to the sword; and the richest
and most beautiful part of the world turned up-side
1,52
OF COACHES,
The answer
mericans to
down for the traffic of pearls and pepper! Mean
victories! Never did ambition, never did national
animosities provoke men to the commission of such
horrid hostilities against one another, attended with
such miserable calamities.
Certain Spaniards, coasting along the sea in quest
of some A- of their mines, landed in a very fruitful, pleasant
those exe- country, well inhabited, where they made their usual
crable rob- remonstrances to the people: That they were
bers.
"peaceable men, who had made a long voyage,
"being sent on the part of the king of Castile, the
"greatest prince in the habitable world, to whom
"the pope, God's vicegerent upon earth, had grant-
ed the principality of all the Indies: that if they
"would become tributaries to him they should be
"used very courteously; at the same time requiring
"provisions of them for their nourishment, and
"gold for their use in medicine: they also recom-
"mended to them the belief of one God alone, and
"the truth of our religion, which they advised them
"to embrace, adding thereto some menaces." The
answer was this, viz. "That as to their being peace-
"able, they did not seem to be such, if they were
66
CC
so. As to their king, because he asked, he must
"certainly be poor and necessitous; and the person
"who had allotted him this part of the world must
"be a man fond of strife, by attempting to give
૮૬ away that which was not his own, and to bring the
title of the ancient possessors into dispute. As to
"provisions, they would furnish them; that of gold
they had but little, and, indeed, made no account
“of it, forasmuch as it was of no use to the service
"of life, which all their care was to pass happily and
pleasantly; that, however, they were welcome to
"take what they could find, except that which was
employed in the service of their gods. As to the
"one God only, they liked what they said of him,
"but they were not inclined to change their reli-
"gion, having so long lived in it to their advantage;
" and that they were not accustomed to take advice
66
66
*
OF COACHES.
153
66
"from any but their friends and acquaintance. As
to menaces, it discovered a wrong judgment to
"offer to threaten those whose nature and power
"was to them unknown: that, therefore, they had
"best quit their coast without delay, for they were
"not used to take the civilities and remonstrances
"of armed men, and foreigners too, in good part;
"otherwise they should do by them as they had
"done by those others;" showing them, at the same
time, the heads of several men executed, which
were set up round the walls of their city. Whe-
ther this was childish babble, from an infant state,
let the instance here given determine. But so it is,
that the Spaniards, neither in this, nor many other
places, where they did not find the merchandise they
wanted, made no seizure nor attack, whatever other
commodity was to be had there: witness my can-
nibals.
•
ards' inhu-
of Peru,
Of two of the most potent monarchs of that world, The Spani-
and, perhaps, of this; kings of so many kings, and man usage
the last the Spaniards drove from thence, the king of the king
of Peru being taken in battle, and put to a ransom after they
so excessive as is beyond all belief; which, however, had made
him pri-
was punctually paid; and having, by his conversa-soner of
tion, given evident proof of a frank, generous, and war.
constant spirit, and of a clear and undisturbed ima
gination, the conquerors, after having exacted of
him a million, three hundred twenty-five thousand,
five hundred weight of gold, besides silver, and other
things that amounted to no less (insomuch that their
horses were now shod with solid gold), had a mind
to see (how perfidious soever it might be deemed)
what might be the rest of this king's treasure, and
to make that also their property. To this end, a
false charge was preferred against him, and false evi-
dence suborned to prove that he had formed a design
to raise an insurrection in his provinces for recovering
his liberty. Upon this, by the virtuous sentence of
the very men who had hatched this plot against him,
he was condemned to be hanged in public, making
12
154
of coaches.
}
Their exe-
elty to the
king of
him compound for the torture of being burned alive,
by submitting to baptism, at the place of execution.
A horrid and unheard-of barbarity, which he under-
went, however, with an air truly brave and royal,
without alteration either of his looks or language.
And after this, to appease the people, who were as-
tonished and confounded at so strange a scene, the
Spaniards put on a show of deep mourning for his
death, and ordered him a sumptuous funeral.
The other was the king of Mexico, who, after
erable cru- having been long besieged in his capital city, where-
in, if ever a prince and people showed it in this world,
Mexico, he discovered the utmost that patience and perse-
verance are capable of doing, had the misfortune of
to fall into being delivered up alive into the hands of his ene-
their hands. mies, upon articles of being treated as a king (nei-
who had
also the
misfortune
ther, during the time of his imprisonment, was any
part of his behaviour unworthy of that title); but
his enemies, after their conquest, not finding so much
gold as they expected, when they had ransacked and
rummaged every place, they proceeded to extort new
discoveries, by inflicting the most hellish torments
they could invent upon the prisoners whom they had
taken; but, as they gained no advantage by it, their
courage being greater than their tortures, they were
at last so enraged that, contrary to their faith, and
contrary to the law of nations, they condemned the
king himself, and one of the chief courtiers, to be
put upon the rack in the presence of one another.
The nobleman, finding his spirits near spent with the
pains and the heat of burning coals all round him,
pitifully turned his dying eyes upon his master, as if
it were to ask his pardon that he could hold out no
longer. The king, darting a fierce and severe look
at him, as reproaching his cowardice and meanness
of spirit, said only these words to him with a harsh
and steady voice," And what dost thou think of
me, that I am in a bagnio? Am I more at ease
"than thyself?" Upon this the courtier suddenly
şunk under his pains, and died on the spot. The
ઃઃ
OF COACHES.
155
king, being half roasted, was carried from thence,
not so much out of pity (for what compassion could
ever reach souls so barbarous that, for giving a dubi-
ous information of some vessel of gold to be pillaged,
they caused not a private man only, but a king, so
great both in fortune and merit, to be broiled before
their eyes), but it was because his constancy rendered
their cruelty still the more shameful. They after-
wards hanged him for having had the courage to at-
tempt to set himself free by force of arms from so
long a state of captivity and subjection; and he
made his exit in a manner becoming so magnani-
mous a prince.
which the
committed
At another time they burned alive, in one and the The horrid
same fire, four hundred and sixty men, viz. four hun- butchery
dred of the common people, and sixty of the chief Spaniards
lords of a province, whom they had taken prisoners in America
of war. These narratives we have from themselves; on their
prisoners
for they do not only confess the facts, but boast of,
and justify them: could it be to prove their justice,
or their zeal for their religion? Certainly, these are
methods too different from, and contrary to so holy
an end. Had it been their view to extend our reli-
gion, they would have considered that it is not pro-
pagated by the possession of territories, but of
hearts; and would have thought the blood spilled by
the necessities of war too much, without increasing
the effusion by a slaughter, like that of wild beasts,
as universal as fire and sword could make it, having
only chose to save as many as they intended to make
wretched slaves of, to the work and service of their
mines: so that many of the Spanish generals were
put to death on the place of conquest, by order of
the kings of Castile, justly offended with the horror
of their behaviour; and they were almost all of them
hated and despised. God justly permitted that all
this great plunder should be swallowed up by the sea
in its transportation, or by the civil wars, in which
they devoured one another; and the greatest part of
156
OF COACHES.
The trea-
Americans
as was be-
first.
them was buried on the spot, without gaining any
fruit of their victory.
As for the revenue, and what was in the treasury
sure of the of a provident and prudent king, the reason why it
not so con- was so far short of the hopes those who came before
siderable had conceived, and of that abundance of riches
lieved at which the Spaniards found at their first arrival in
this new world (for, though a great deal was fetched
from thence, we find it nothing in comparison of
what might be expected), was because the use of
money was entirely unknown there; and that, by
consequence, their gold was all a dead stock, being of
no other use but for ornament and ostentation, as so
much furniture reserved from father to son by many
powerful kings, who continually exhausted their
mines to form this heap of vessels and statues for the
ornament of their palaces and temples; whereas our
gold is all in circulation and traffic. We cut ours
into a thousand bits, cast it into as many forms, and
scatter and disperse it a thousand ways. Let us only
suppose that our kings had, in like manner amassed
all the gold they could collect in several ages, and
have let it lain idle by them.
The Mexi-
the world
and thought
The people of the kingdom of Mexico were some-
cans made what more civilised, and greater artists than the
to consist other nations in that part of the world. They judged
of five ages, also, as we do, that the universe was near its period;
themselves and they looked upon the desolation we brought
to be in the amongst them as a sign of it. They believed the
the Spa- duration of the world to be divided into five ages,
niardscame under five successive suns, four of which had already
pate them. finished their career, and what now gave them light
last when
to extir-
was the fifth. The first sun perished, say they, with
all other creatures, by an universal deluge. The
second by the fall of the firmament upon us, which
suffocated every thing living? and in this age they
place the giants, whose bones they showed to the
Spaniards; according to the proportion of which the
stature of men amounted to twenty hands high. The
:
157
OF COACHES.
third sun they say was annihilated by fire, which
burned and consumed every thing. The fourth by
a commotion of air and wind, which even threw
down several mountains: at which time men did not
die, but were transformed into baboons. What im-
pressions will not the laziness of human credulity
admit! After the extinction of this fourth sun,
the world, say they, lay twenty-five years in con-
tinual darkness; in the fifteenth year of which were
created a man and a woman, who renewed the hu-
man race. Upon a certain day, ten years after this,
the sun appeared newly created, and from this day
begins their computation of years. The third day after
it was created, the ancient gods died, and new ones
have been born every day since. After what manner
they think this last sun will perish my author has
not learned. But their calculation of this fourth
change agrees with the great conjunction of the
planets, which, eight hundred and odd years ago,
as the astrologers compute, produced many great
alterations and innovations in the world.
nificent
those of
Egypt.
As to pomp and magnificence, neither Greece, The inag-
Rome, nor Egypt, can, either for utility, difficulty, or works in
grandeur, compare any of their works with the road Peru, su-
made in Peru, by the kings of that country, from perior to
the city of Quito to that of Cusco (three hundred Greece,
leagues in length), it being straight, even, twenty-five Route, and
paces in breadth, paved, and inclosed on both sides
with noble high walls; along the innermost of which
two brooks are continually running, with beautiful
trees, named Moly, on their banks. In this work,
where they met with rocks and mountains, they cut
through and levelled them, and filled up the chasms
with stone and lime. At the end of every day's
journey there are fine palaces, furnished with pro-
visions, clothes, and arms, as well for travellers as for
soldiers that pass that way. In my estimation of
this work, I have computed the difficulty, which is
particularly considerable in that place. They did
not build with any stones less than such as were ten
158
INCONVENIENCE OF GREATNESS.
I
The last
king of
Peru car-
ried in a
chair of
gold to the
field of
battle.
foot square, which they had no other way to trans-
port but by dragging them along by the strength of
their arms; nor did they know so much as the art of
scaffolding, nor had they any other way to go to
work but to raise the ground with the building, tak-
ing away the earth when the whole was erected.
We return now to our coaches. Instead of these
or any other vehicles, they were carried upon men's
shoulders. The last king of Peru, on the day that
he was taken, was thus carried upon poles or staves
midst of the of gold, and sitting in a chair of gold, to the middle
of the field of battle. As fast as these chairmen were
killed in the attempt to dismount him (for they were
determined to take him alive) others strove to supply
their room; so that they could never get him down,
what slaughter soever they made of those chairmen,
till he was seized and pulled to the ground by a
man on horseback.
He who
knows
CHAPTER VI.
Of the Inconvenience of Greatness.
SINCE we cannot attain to it, let us take our re-
what great-venge by railing at it: yet to find fault with a thing
ness is, may is not absolutely railing at it, there being some
without faults in all things how beautiful and desirable soever.
much troù- In general, greatness has this evident advantage, that
avoid it
ble.
it lets itself down at pleasure, and has almost the
choice of either condition. For a man does not fall
from all heights, but may come down from the great-
est part of them without falling. Indeed, it seems
to me that we value it at too high a rate, and that
we also overvalue the resolution of those whom we
have either seen or heard to have contemned it, or
let themselves down from it of their own accord,
Its essence is not so manifestly commodious but it
INCONVENIENCE OF GREATNESS.
159
may be refused without a miracle. I find it a very
hard thing to bear misfortunes; but to be content
with a moderate fortune, and to avoid greatness, is a
thing, in my opinion, of very little trouble. This
is a virtue, methinks, to which I, who am no con-
jurer, could arrive at without much struggle. What
then ought they to do who would even put into the
balance the glory attending this refusal, wherein
there may be more ambition lurking than even in the
desire and enjoyment of greatness? Forasmuch as
ambition never conducts itself better, according to
its own manner, than by a path which is unfrequent-
ed, and out of the road.
I spur up my courage to patience; but slacken its Montaigne
ambitious
rein towards desire. I have as much to wish for as was never
another, and allow my wishes as much liberty and of very
indiscretion; but yet it never was my lot to wish for high pre-
either empire or royalty, nor for the eminency offerment.
those high and commanding fortunes. I do not aim
that way. I love myself too well. When I think of
growing greater, it is but very moderately, and by a
constrained and timorous increase, such as is proper
for me, in resolution, in prudence, in health, beauty,
and even in wealth. But that reputation, and that
so mighty authority oppress my imagination. And,
quite contrary to some others, I would, perhaps, ra-
ther choose to be the second or third man in Peri-
gord than the first in Paris; at least, without lying,
be the third than the first officer in Paris. I would
neither dispute with a porter at the gate, a wretch
whom I knew not, nor make crowds open to adore
me as I pass. I have been trained up to a middle
rank in life, as well by my inclination as my fortune;
and have made it appear, by the whole course of my
behaviour and undertakings, that I have rather
avoided than otherwise to climb above the degree of
fortune to which I was born. Every natural consti-
tution is equally just and easy. I have, therefore, so
mean a spirit that I measure not good fortune by its
height, but by its easy attainment.
160
INCONVENIENCE OF GREATNESS.
quiet life
who was so
His prefer. But if I have not a heart great enough, I am made
ence of a amends by an open heart, which enjoins me boldly to
to that of proclaim its weakness. Were I desired to compare
Regulus, the life of L. Thorius Balbus, a fine gentleman,
admirable learned, healthy; a man of an excellent understand-
titude ining, and abounding in all manner of conveniences
the great- and pleasures, leading a tranquil life, and all after his
est perils. own way, with a soul duly prepared to meet death,
for his for-
He loved
mand nor
manded.
and fortified against superstition, pain, and other in-
cumbrances of human necessity, dying at last in bat-
tle with his sword drawn for the defence of his coun-
try: should I compare his with the life of M. Regu-
lus, so grand and sublime as every one knows it was,
together with his admirable exit; the one without
name, without dignity, the other exemplary and won-
derfully glorious, I would doubtless say as Cicero
did,* could I speak as well as he. But, were I to set
them together in my own phrase, I would say also
that the life of the former is as much within my ca
pacity and within my desire, which I make conform
able to my capacity, as the latter is beyond it; that
I could not approach the last without veneration,
but to the first I would readily attain by habit.
Return we now to our temporal greatness, from
not to com- which we have digressed. I neither like to command
be com- nor be commanded. Otanez, one of the seven
who had a right to lay claim to the kingdom of
Persia, did, as I would readily have done myself,
i. e. he gave up to his competitorst his right of attain-
ing to it, either by election or by lot, provided that
* Cicero, from whom Montaigne bas taken this parallel, plainly
gives the preference to Regulus. Thorius, he says, wallowed in
pleasures of every kind, and was a contemner of the sacrifices and
temples of his country: that he was a handsome man, perfectly
healthy, and so valiant that he died in battle for the cause of the re-
public; insomuch, adds Cicero, that I dare not name the man who
was preferable to him; but virtue shall speak for me, who will not
hesitate a moment to give M. Regulus the preference, and to pro-
claim him the more happy man. De Finib. Bon. et Mal. lib. ii,
cap. 20.
Herodot. lib. iii. p. 222, 223.
INCONVENIENCE OF GREATNESS.
161
he and his might live in the empire free of all sub-
jection and obedience, that to the ancient laws ex-
cepted; and that they might enjoy all liberty that
was not to the prejudice thereof, he having as great
an aversion to command as to obey.
sable be-
of the most
The most painful and difficult employment in the Kings the
world is, in my opinion, worthily to discharge the of more excu-
fice of a king. I excuse more of their failings than cause their
men commonly do, in consideration of the vast weight office is one
of their function, which really astonishes me. It is difficult.
difficult for such boundless power to preserve any de-
corum. Yet so it is that, even to those who are not
of the most happy disposition, it is a singular incite-
ment to virtue to be stationed in such a place, where
whatever good you do is recorded, and placed to ac-
count, where the least benefaction extends to so
many men, and where your talent, like that of preach-
ers, chiefly addresses itself to the people, who are not
very nice judges, easily deceived and easily satisfied.
There are few things wherein we can give a sincere
judgment, because there are few wherein we have
not in some sort a particular interest. Superiority and
inferiority, command and subjection, are naturally
liable to envy and cavil, and must necessarily be con
tinually encroaching upon one another. I believe
neither the one nor the other touching its respective
rights; let reason, therefore, which is the inflexible
and dispassionate, when we can find it, determine the
case. It is scarce a month ago that I turned over two
Scotch authors who contended with each other upon
this point. He who takes the part of the people
renders the condition of a king worse than that of a
carter; and the writer for the monarch lifts him up
some degrees above almighty God in sovereignty and
power.
ed from the
Now the inconvenience of greatness, which I have Great men
here taken upon me to consider upon some occasion are exclud-
that lately put it into my head, is this: there is exercises of
not, perhaps, any thing more pleasant in men's deal honour and
ings with one another than their competitions and

VOL. III.
M
valour.
162
INCONVENIENCE of greatness.
contentions, through an emulation of honour and va-
lour, either in the exercises of the body or of the
mind, wherein sovereign greatness has no real share.
Indeed I have often thought, that, out of pure res-
pect, men have used princes injuriously and disdain-
fully in that particular. For the very thing I was ve-
hemently disgusted at, when a lad, was to see, that
those who performed their exercises with me forbore
to do their best, as if they thought me unworthy of
such effort; and this is what we see happen to them
daily, every one thinking himself unworthy to con-
tend with them. If we discover that they have the
least passion to get the better, there is not a man that
will not make it his business to give them the victory,
and that will not choose to betray his own honour
rather than offend theirs. They employ no more
force in it than is necessary to contribute to their ho-
What share then have they in an engagement
wherein every one is of their side? Methinks I see
those paladins of the ancient times presenting them-
selves to the justs and tournaments, with their bodies
and armour enchanted. Brisson,* running against
Alexander, purposely committed a fault in his ca-
reer, for which Alexander chid him; but he ought to
have whipped him. Upon this account Carneades
said, “That the sons of princes learned nothing
" right but how to ride the managed horse, by rea-
❝son that in all other exercises every one bends and
"yields to them; but a horse, being neither a flat-
"terer nor a courtier, makes no more scruple to
"fling the son of a king than the brat of a porter."+
Homer was forced to consent that Venus, so perfect,
nour.
r
* Plutarch, in his Treatise, How a Flatterer may be distinguished
from a Friend, where this man, who suffered Alexander to conquer
him, is called Crisson instead of Brisson, as it is spelled in all the edi-
tions of Montaigne that I have met with. Indeed, in Plutarch's
Tract, entitled Of the Satisfaction or Tranquillity of the Mind, it
is spelled Bgio, in the Paris edit. fol. anno 1624. But it is an error
of the press, because in the Latin version, which accompanies it,
Xylander has put Crison.
+Plutarch, ibid. chap. 15.
INCONVENIENCE OF GREATNESS.
· 163
*
soft, and delicate a beauty, should be wounded at
the battle of Troy, for the sake of ascribing courage
and boldness to her, qualities never known in those
who are exempt from danger. The gods are made
to be angry, to fear, to run away, to be jealous, to
grieve, and to be transported with passion, to ho-
nour them with the virtues that amongst us are com-
posed of those imperfections. He that does not
participate in the hazard and difficulty, cannot pre-
tend to an interest in the honour and pleasure that
attend hazardous actions. It is pity you should
have such a power that all things give way to you.
Your fortune throws society and good fellowship too
far from you, and plants you in too great a solitude.
That easiness, that mean facility of making all
things stoop to you, is an enemy to all manner of
pleasure. It is sliding, not going; it is sleep-
ing, not living. Conceive a man accompanied
with omnipotence, you plunge him in an abyss,
and put him under a necessity of begging moles-
tation and opposition from you as an alms. His
being and his welfare are in a state of indigence.
The good qualities of kings are dead and lost, for
these are only to be perceived by comparison, and
we put them out of the way of it. Their ears are sò
tingled with a continual uniform approbation, that
they have scarce any knowledge of true praise.
Have they to do with the greatest fool of all their
subjects? They have no way to take advantage of
him by his saying, "It is because he is my king,"
he thinks he has said enough to imply that he there-
fore suffered himself to be overcome. This quality
stifles and confuses the other true and essential qua-
lities, which are sunk deep in the kingship, and
leaves them nothing to set themselves off but actions
that are actually contiguous and subservient to roy-
alty, viz. the functions of their office. It is so much
to be a king, that he is only so by that very denomi-
nation. This strange lustre that surrounds him,
conceals him, and robs us of the view of him. Qur
+
M 2
1,64
INCONVENIENCE OF GREATNESS.

How the
faults of
kings are
sight is thereby repelled and dissipated, being en-
grossed and dazzled by this glaring splendor. The
senate awarded the prize of eloquence to Tiberius,
but he refused it, as thinking that, though the award
had been ever so just, he could not have a true relish
of it from a judgment so restrained.
As we yield them all the advantages of honour, so
do we sooth and give a sanction to their very defects
hid from and vices, not only by approbation, but even by
their eyes. imitation. Every one of Alexander's attendants
carried their heads on one side as he did; and the
flatterers of Dionysius ran foul of one another in
his presence, stumbled at, and kicked up every
thing in their way, to denote that they were as pur-
blind as he. Even ruptures have sometimes been a
recommendation to favour. I have actually seen
deafness affected; and, where the sovereign hated
his wife, Plutarch observed that the courtiers ac-
tually divorced theirs, whom they loved.t And,
what is yet more, uncleanness, and all manner of
dissolution, disloyalty, blasphemy, cruelty, heresy,
superstition, irreligion, effeminacy, and worse crimes,
if worse there can be, have at times been the reign-
ing fashion; and by an example yet more pernicious
than that of the flatterers of Mithridates, who, be-
cause their sovereign pretended to the honour of
being a good physician, came to him to have inci-
sions and caustics applied to their bodies; for those
others suffered their souls, a more noble and deli-
cate part, to be cauterised. But, to conclude the
subject I began with, Adrian, the emperor, disput-
ing with the philosopher Favorinus about the mean-
* Plutarch, Of the Difference between the Flatterer and the
Friend.
+ Plutarch only says, that he knew a man who, because his
friend divorced his wife, turned away his wife also, whom, never-
theless, he went to visit, and sent for sometimes privately to his
house, which was discovered by the very wife of his friend. Plu-
tarch, Of the Difference between the Flatterer and the Friend,
chap. 8 of Amyot's translation.
Plutarch, ibid, chap. 13.



1
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
165
σε
ing of a word, Favorinus soon yielded him the
point; for which his friends blaming him, "You
"talk simply," said he, "would you make me be-
"lieve that he who commands thirty legions is not
" a man of more learning than I am?'* Augustus
wrote verses against Asinius Pollio; " And I," said
Pollio,
say nothing, for it is not prudent to take
pen against him who has power to pro
And these were both in the right; for
Dionysius, because he could not equal Philoxenus
in poetry, and Plato in reasoning, condemned the
one to the quarries, and sent the other to the isle of
Ægina to be sold for a slave.
CC
up the
" scribe."
IT
CHAPTER VII.
Of the Art of Discoursing.
T is the custom of our justice to condemn some The end of
for a warning to others. To condemn them for no punish-
other reason but because they have done amiss, were how the
* Ælii Spartiáni Adrianus Cæsar, p. 7 and 8, Hist. Aug.
+ Or rather because he was not able to bear the slight opinion
which Philoxenus showed of his poetry. Diodorus of Sicily,
lib. xi. cap. 2, says, that one day, at supper-time, as they were
reading some worthless poems of this tyrant, that excellent poet
Philoxenus, being charged to give his opinion of them, was too
free in his answer to please Dionysius, for which the tyrant was so
much incensed against him that he ordered him to be sent imme-
diately to the quarries.
Montaigne is mistaken here with regard to Plato, who was
sold a slave in the island of Ægida, by order of Dionysius the ty
rant, because he had spoken too freely to him; as Diodorus of Si-
cily says positively, lib. xv. cap. 2, and more particularly also
Diog. Laert. in the Life of Plato, lib. iii. sect. 18, 19. In these
two last notes the fault I have found with Montaigne I might, in-
deed, have as well placed to the account of Plutarch, who says the
very same thing as Montaigne, in his treatise Of Contentment, or
Peace of the Mind, chap. 12, yet I cannot but think that Plutarch
has here been guilty of some inaccuracy of expression.
*
ments; and

166
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
vices of
some men
tion to
others.
downright stupidity, as Plato says, for what is done
may serve cannot be undone; but it is to the end they may of
for instruc-fend no more, and that others may not commit the
like offence. We do not reform the man whom we
hang, but we reform others by him. I do the same.
My errors are sometimes natural, and neither to be
corrected nor remedied; but the benefit which vir-
tuous men do the public, by making themselves imi-
tated, I may do, perhaps, in making my conduct
avoided:
Nonne vides Albi ut malè vivat filius, utque
Barrus inops? magnum documentum, ne patriam rem
Perdere quis velit.*
Don't you behold the wealthy Albus' son,
How wretchedly he lives, how he's undone?
There's Barrus too, how shabby is he grown!
Barrus, the greatest rake of all the town:
A good instruction for young heirs, that they
Should not their patrimony fool away.
Whilst I proclaim and condemn my own imperfec-
tions, another person will be taught to fear them,
The parts that I most esteem in myself derive more
honour from accusing, than from recommending
myself; which is the reason I the oftener relapse
and stick to them. But, when all is said and done,
a man never speaks of himself without loss. Self-
condemnation is always believed, but self-praise
never. There may, perhaps, be some of my own
constitution, who instruct me better by contra-
riety than by similitude, and more by avoiding than
imitating me. This was that sort of discipline
which the elder Cato had in his thoughts, when he
said, that "Wise men have more to learn of fools,
"than fools of wise men:" and that ancient player
upon the harp, who, Pausanias said, used to compel
his scholars to go and hear one that lodged opposite
to him, who played very ill, that they might thereby
learn to hate his discords and false measures. The
* Hor. lib. i. sat. 4, ver. 109, &c.
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
167
·
horror of cruelty more inclines me to mercy than
any example of clemency could possibly do. A
good riding-master does not so much mend my seat
in the saddle, as an attorney or a Venetian gondolier
on horseback; and a sorry speaker reforms my lan-
guage better than a good one. The silly look of
another person always advertises and advises me;
and that which is pungent awakes and rouses much
better than what is pleasing. It is fit time for us to
reform the backward way by disagreement rather
than by agreement, by discord rather than accord.
As I learn little by good examples, I make use of
bad, which are very common. I have endeavoured
to render myself as agreeable as I see others offen-
sive, as constant as I see others fickle, as affable as
I see others rough, as good as I see others wicked;
but I proposed to myself measures invincible.
ness of
The most fruitful and natural exercise of the The useful-
mind, in my opinion, is conversation, the use of conversa-
which I find to be more agreeable than any other tion.
exercise in life. For this reason, were I now forced
to make my choice at this instant, I think I would
agree rather to lose my sight, than my hearing, or my
speech. The Athenians and the Romans also held
this exercise in great honour in their academies : and
the Italians to this day retain some footsteps of it to
their great advantage.
instructive
books.
The study of books is a languid, feeble motion, It is an ex-
that does not warm; whereas conversation at once ercise more
instructs and exercises. If I discourse with a man than the
of strong sense, and a shrewd disputant, he smites study of
me hip and thigh, goads me on the right and left,
and his imaginations give vigour to mine. Envy,
glory, contention, stimulate and raise me above my-
self; whereas an unison of judgment is a quality that
is a perfect nuisance in conversation. But as the
mind gathers strength by the communication of
vigorous and regular understandings, it is not to be
expressed how much it loses and degenerates by the
continual correspondence and company which we
168
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
Not to be
bear with
a very
trouble-
the mind.
keep with such whose imaginations are vulgar and
distempered. There is no contagion which spreads
like that. I have sufficient reason to know the evil
of it by dear experience. I love to discourse and
dispute; but it is with few men only, and for my own
sake; for to be put up as a spectacle before a great
assembly, and to make a parade and boasting of a
man's flow of wit and words, is, I think, very unbe-
coming a person of honour.
Nonsense is a contemptible quality; but not to be
able to able to bear with it, and to fret and vex at it as I
nonsense is do, is another sort of disease, altogether as trouble-
some as nonsense; and this is the very thing of
some dis- which I will now accuse myself. I enter into a con-
temper of ference and dispute with great freedom and ease,
forasmuch as opinion meets in me with a soil very
unfit for penetration, and too hard for it to take any
deep root. No propositions astonish me, no belief
offends me, how contrary soever it be to my own.
There is no fancy so frivolous and extravagant that
does not seem to me to be very suitable to the pro-
duct of the human understanding. As for such of
us, who deprive our judgment of the right of mak-
ing decrees, we look upon the various opinions with
indifference; and if we do not incline our judgments
to them, yet we readily lend an ear to them. Where
one scale of the balance is quite empty, I let the
other waver under the dreams of an old woman:
and I think myself excusable if I choose the odd
number, Thursday rather than Friday; if I had ra-
ther be the twelfth or fourteenth than the thirteenth
at table; if I had rather, on a journey, see a hare
run by me than cross my road, and that my stock-
ing be put on my left foot first. All such whimsies
as are current about us, deserve least to be hearken-
ed unto. As to me they are all mere vanity, and
that is what they really import. Moreover, vulgar
and casual opinions, considered in their weight, are,
indeed, something more than nothing in nature;
and he who will not suffer himself to proceed so far,
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
169
falls, perhaps, into the vice of obstinacy, for the sake
of avoiding that of superstition. The contradictions
of judgments, therefore, neither offend nor alter me;
they only awake and exercise me. We shum correction,
whereas we ought to put ourselves in the way of it,
especially when it comes by way of conference, and
not of authority. As to every opposition, we do
not consider whether it be just, but how we shall,
right or wrong, disengage ourselves from it. Instead
of extending our arms, we thrust out our claws. I
could suffer myself to be roughly handled by my
friends telling me that I am a fool and a dreamer. I
love to hear gentlemen speak, as they think, with
courage. We must fortify and harden our organ of
hearing against this ceremonious sound of words.
I love a strong and manly familiarity and conversa.
tion; a friendship that is pleased with the sharpness
and vigour of its communication, as love is with
biting and scratching. It is not vigorous nor gene-
rous enough if it be not quarrelsome, if it be civil-
ised and artificial, if it treads gingerly, and is afraid
of a shock. Neque enim disputari sine reprehensione
potest :* "Nor can there be any disputation with-
out contradiction." When I am contradicted, it
rouses my attention, but not my indignation. I in-
cline towards him who contradicts and instructs me.
The cause of truth ought to be the common cause of
both the one and the other. What answer will he
make? The passion of anger has already given a
blow to his judgment. Anguish has taken possession
of it before reason. It would be of service that our
disputes were decided by wagers; that there might
be a material mark put upon what we lost, to the
end that we might keep an account of it, and that
my man might tell me," My ignorance and obstinacy
"cost me last year a hundred crowns at several
"times." I cherish and caress truth in what hand
* Cie. de Finibus Bon. et Mal. lib. i.
4
i
170
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
soever I find it; I cheerfully surrender to it; I open
my conquered arms to it as far off as I can see it
approaching, and I take a pleasure in being reproved,
provided it be not with an air too deriding and im-
perious. And I accommodate myself to my accu-
sers more frequently for civility sake than for the
sake of amendment, choosing to gratify and encou-
rage a freedom to admonish me, by my ready sub-
mission to it. Nevertheless it is hard to bring the
men of my time to it. They have not the courage
to correct, because they cannot bear to be corrected
themselves. And they always speak with dissimula-
tion in one another's presence. I take so great a
pleasure in being judged and known, that it is in a
manner indifferent to me in which of the two forms
I am so. My imagination so often contradicts and
condemns itself, that it is all one to me if another do
it, especially considering that I grant no more autho-
rity than what I think fit to his reproof. But I am
angry with the man who is so surly, which I know
some are, as to be sorry for his admonition if it be
not credited, and takes it for an affront if it be not
immediately followed. As Socrates always received
the contradictions to his arguments with a smile, it
may be said that his strength of reason was the
cause, and that the advantage being certain of fall-
ing on his side, he accepted them as matter of new
victory. Nevertheless we see, on the contrary, that
there is nothing in the case that renders our senti-
ment so delicate as an inclination to pre-eminencé,
and a disdain of the adversary; and that, therefore,
the weaker disputant has reason to take in good part
those contradictions that correct and set him right.
In earnest, I rather choose to keep company with
those who gall me than those who fear me.
It is an
insipid and a hurtful pleasure to have to do with peo-
ple who admire and make way for us. Antisthenes
commanded his children "Never to take it kindly, or
66 as a favour, from any man who commended
9
!
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
171
܂
"them."* I find I am much prouder of a victory
which I gain over myself, when, in the very heat of the
contention, I surrender to the strength of my adversa
ry's argument, than I feel pleasure in a victory which
I obtain over him by means of his weakness. In short,
I receive and admit of all manner of attacks that are
direct, how weak soever; but I am quite out of pati-
ence with those that are not made in form. I little care
what the subject is; the opinions are all one to me, and
the victory is to me a thing almost indifferent. I can
argue a whole day together peaceably, if the debate
be carried on with order. I do not require strength
and subtlety so much as method; I mean the order
which is every day observed in the wranglings of
shepherds and shop-boys, but never among us. If
they start from the subject it is uncivil in them; and
yet it is no more than what we do ourselves: but their
tumult and impatience does not carry them from
their point. They pursue the thread of their argu-
ment. If they prevent, and do not stay for one
another, they at least understand one another.
Any one answers too well for me, if he answer
what I say. But when the dispute is confused
and irregular, I quit the substance, and adhere to
the form with anger and indiscretion, and fall into a
testy, malicious, and imperious way of disputing, of
which I am afterwards ashamed. It is impossible to
deal sincerely with a fool. My judgment is not only
depraved under the hand of so impetuous a master,
but my conscience also.
Our disputes ought to be prohibited and punished Disputes
as well as other verbal crimes. What vice † do they not
* Plutarch, Of False Shame, chap. 12. '0 'At 'Heaλñs wages
τοῖς παισὶ διακελευόμενΘ μηδενὶ Χάριν έχειν ἐπαινεῖς αὐτές. Montaigne has
confounded this Antisthenius, or Antistheneus, as the Latin trans-
lation of Plutarch calls him, with the chief of the Cynic sect, who
never had the surname of Hercules, which Plutarch gives to An-
tisthenius, and is constantly called Antisthenes.
+ The description which Montaigne gives, from this place, to
the mark †, in page 173, of the faults that commonly attend
our disputes, is very just, and very agreeably expressed. Pere Bou-
that are ill
conducted
172
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
prohibit-
conse-
quences of
them.
west.
ought to be create and accumulate, being always governed and
ed; the ill commanded by passion? We first quarrel with the
arguments, and then with the men. We learn to
dispute purely for the sake of contradicting; and
whilst every one contradicts, and is contradicted,
it falls out that all that is got by the dispute is the
loss and annihilation of the truth. Plato, therefore,
in his Republic, prohibits this exercise to fools and
Lbred people. To what end do you go about to
inquire into a subject of one who knows not any
thing that is worth knowing? It is doing no injury
to the subject when a man leaves it in order to see
which way to treat it. I do not mean a way that is
artful and scholastic, but one that is natural and ob-
vious to a solid understanding. What will it be in
the end? One goes to the east, the other to the
They lose the main point, and scatter it in a
crowd of incidents. After storming for an hour,
they know not what they are looking for. One is
low, the other high, and the third sideling. One is
taken with a word and a simile: another is no longer
sensible of the opposition made to him, he is so en-
gaged in his pursuit, and thinks of following his own
course, and not yours: another, finding himself too
weak to hold the argument, fears all, refuses all, and,
at the very beginning, mixes and confounds the sub-
ject, or, in the very height of the dispute, stops
short and grows silent by a peevish ignorance, affect
ing a haughty contempt, or a silly modesty of avoid-
ing contention. This man, provided he strikes,
cares not how much he lays himself open. The
other counts his very words, and weighs them for
reasons. Another is beholden only to his (Stentor-
hours was so pleased with it, that he has inserted it almost verbatim
in lib. iii. of his Art de Penser, chap. 20, sect. 7, but without di-
rectly ascribing the honour of it to Montaigne, whom he only
points out by the vague character of the Celebrated Author;
whereas he ought most certainly to have named Montaigne ex-
pressly, especially after having just criticised him in the same chap-
ter with great severity, to call it no worse, when he not only quoted
his words, but named him without any scruple.

OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
173
like) voice, and his lungs. Here is one that draws
inferences against himself, and another that deafens
you with prefaces and impertinent digressions.†
Another falls into downright railing, and picks a
quarrel for nothing, in order to get clear of the com-
pany and conversation of a wit that is too hard for
him. This last looks not into the reason of things,
but draws a line of circumvallation about you, with
the logic of his clauses, and the rules of his art.
is made of
✔
Who now does not enter into a distrust of the The strange
sciences, and doubt whether he can reap any solid abuse that
advantage from them for the necessities of life, con- science.
sidering the use we put them to. Nihil sanantibus
literis,* as Seneca calls it. Who has got understand-
ing by logic? Where are all its fine promises?
Nee ad meliùs vivendum, nec ad commodius disseren-
dum: " It neither makes a man live better, nor
"discourse more pertinently." Is there more bal-
derdash in the brawls of fish-women than in the pub-
lic disputes of the men of this profession? I would
rather that a son of mine should learn the language
of the taverns than the babble of the schools. Take
a master of arts, and discourse with him, does he not
make us sensible of this artificial excellency? Does
he not captivate the women, and such ignoramuses
as we are, by the admiration of the strength of his
reasons, and the beauty of his method? Does he
not govern and persuade us as he will? Why does a
man, who has so great advantage in matter and ma-
nagement, mix railing, indiscretion, and rage, in his
disputations? Strip him of his gown, his hood, and
his Latin; let him not batter our ears with Aristotle,
in his puris naturalibus, you will take him for one of
us, or worse. By that complication and confusion of
language with which they overpower us, they appear
in the light of jugglers, whose feats of activity strike
and impose upon our senses, but do not at all shock
our belief; and, their slight of hand excepted, they

* Seneca, ep. 59.
174
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
*
It is me-
thod and
manage-
lue to dis-
do nothing but what is common and mean. They
are not the less fools for their being more learned; I
love and honour knowledge as much as they who
possess it; and, if a right use be made of it, it is
the most noble and powerful acquisition of mortals:
but in those (of whom there is an infinite number)
who establish their sufficiency and value upon that
basis, who appeal from their understanding to their
memory, sub alienâ umbrâ latentes,* and can do no-
thing but by book, I hate it, if I may venture to say
it, something worse than stupidity itself. In my
country, and in my time, learning has improved for-
tunes sufficiently, but the mind not at all. If it
meets with dull souls it overcharges and suffocates
them, leaving them a crude and undigested mass;
but, as for such as are free of all clogs, it readily
purifies and subtilises them. It is a thing of a qua-
lity almost indifferent; a very useful accomplish-
ment to a sublime soul, but to others pernicious and
mischievous; or rather a thing of very precious use,
that will not suffer itself to be purchased at a low
rate. In some hands it is a sceptre, in others a
rattle.
But to proceed what greater victory do you
hope for, than to convince your enemy that he is
ment, that not able to encounter you? When you get the
give a va- better of your position, it is truth that wins; when
putation. you get the advantage of order and method, it
is you that win. I am of opinion that, in Plato
and Xenophon, Socrates disputes more for the sake
of the disputants than of the dispute, and more to
instruct Euthydemus and Protagoras in the know-
ledge of their impertinence than in the impertinence
of their art. He grasps at the first subject, like one
who has a more profitable aim than to explain it,
namely to clear the understandings which he takes
upon him to cultivate and exercise. It is our proper
* Seneca, epist. 33. i. e. We are always translators, and never au-
thors.
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
175
business to be stirring, and upon the hunt after
truth; and, if we prosecute the chase ill and imper-
tinently, we are inexcusable. To fail in seizing, it
is another thing. For we are born to search after
truth, though it is the province of a greater power
to possess it. It is not, as Democritus said, concealed
in the unfathomable deeps, but rather elevated to an
infinite height in the divine knowledge. The world
is but a school of inquiry. It is not who shall enter
the field, but who shall perform the best courses.
He may as well play the fool who speaks the truth,
as he who utters a falsehood; for we are upon the
manner, not the matter of speaking. It is my hu-
mour to regard the form as much as the substance,
and the advocate as much as the cause, according to
the rule laid down by Alcibiades. And I amuse
myself every day in reading authors, without mind-
ing their learning; their method being what I look
for, not their subject. Just so too I hunt after the
conversation of some celebrated genius; not that
he may teach me, but that I may know him; and
that then, if he be worth it, I may imitate him. It
is in every man's power to speak truly, but the talent
of a few only to speak methodically, prudently, and
fully. By consequence, the falsity which proceeds
from ignorance, does not offend me, but the folly of
it. I have broke off several advantageous bargains
by reason of the impertinent wrangling of those
with whom I treated. I am not moved once in a
year at the faults of those over whom I have any
power; but for the stupidity and obstinacy of their
allegations, and their foolish and brutish excuses, we
are every day ready to seize one another by the col
lar. They neither understand what is said, nor why,
and answer accordingly, which is enough to make a
man mad. I never feel any severe shock in my
head but when it is knocked by another head; and
am more ready to compound for the crimes of my
domestics than their rashness, impertinence, and
folly. Let them do less, provided they are capable

176
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
1
A great
man not to
of doing it right. You live in hopes of warming
their affection to you; but from a blockhead, there
is nothing worth to be had, or hoped for.
But what if I take things otherwise than they are?
fault in a It is possible I may; and, therefore, I accuse my
be able to own impatience; and hold, in the first place, that
bear with such impatience is as vicious in him who is in the
of others. right as in him who is in the wrong. For it is

the follies
always a tyrannical sourness not to be able to
bear a form different from one's own. Besides,
there really is not a greater, more constant, and
more unaccountable folly than to be moved and
provoked at the follies of mankind; for it chiefly
makes us quarrel with ourselves, and the ancient
philosopher never wanted occasion for his tears
whilst he considered himself. Miso,* one of the
seven sages, who was of the temper of Timon and De-
mocritus, being asked, "What he laughed at, being
"alone?" made answer, " For the very reason
"because I laugh alone." How many silly things,.
in my opinion, do I say and answer every day of my
life; and then how many more according to the opi-
nion of others? If I bite my own lips at it, what
must others do? In short, we must live among the
living, and let the river run under the bridge without
our care, or at least without our being disturbed.
To speak the truth, how comes it that we can meet a
man with a hump-back, or any other deformity,
without being angry at it; and cannot bear to meet
with a person who is of a wrong head, without put-
ting ourselves into a passion? This criminal sour-
ness sticks more to the judge than to the crime. Let
us always have this saying of Plato in our mouths,
"Do not I think things wrong because I am wrong
"myself? Am not I myself in fault? May not my
"admonition rebound upon myself?" A wise and
divine check this, which lashes the most universal
and common error of mankind. Not only the re-
*Diog. Laert. in the Life of Miso, lib. i. sect. 108.
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
177
proaches that we cast upon one another, but our
reasons also; our arguments and controversies are
generally liable to be retorted upon us, and we are
hurt with our own weapons. Of this antiquity has
left me very grave examples. It was said ingeni-
ously, and very pertinently, by Erasmus, in his
Adages, Stercus cuique suum bene olet. We see no-
thing behind us. We expose ourselves to laughter a
hundred times a day, while we laugh at our neigh-
bour, and detest in others the very faults that are
more conspicuous in ourselves, and which we admire
with wonderful impudence and inadvertency. It
was but yesterday that I saw a man of good sense
pleasantly and justly ridiculing the folly of another,
who batters the ears of all companies with the cata-
logue of his genealogies and alliances, above half of
them false (for they whose titles are most dubious
and uncertain, are the most apt to fall upon such
ridiculous topics), and, at the same time, had he
looked at home, he would have found, that he was
altogether as intemperate and impertinent in publish-
ing and crying up the pedigree of his wife. O! the
impertinent assurance with which the wife sees her-
self armed by her own husband! If he understood
Latin we would say to him,
Agesis hæc non insanit satis suâ sponte, instiga.*
If of herself she be not mad enough,
Be sure to urge her to the utmost proof.
I do not say that no man should accuse who is not
clear himself; for then the one would ever accuse,
not even he that is clear from the same sort of stain;
but I mean, that while our judgment falls upon
another whose name is then in question, it does not
exempt us from an internal and severe jurisdiction.
It is an office of charity that the man who cannot
reclaim himself from a vice, should, nevertheless,
endeavour to remove it in another, in whom, per-
VOL. III.
* Ter. Andria, act iv. scene 2, ver. 9.
N
178
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
That which
senses de-
ments. The
robe, and
•
haps, it
may not have taken so deep and malignant
a root. Neither do I think it a pertinent answer to
him, who admonishes me of my fault, to tell him
that he is guilty of the same, What does this
signify? The admonition is, notwithstanding, true
and useful. If we had a good nose our ordure
would be the more offensive to us, because it is our
own. And Socrates is of opinion, that whoever
should find himself, his son, and a stranger, guilty of
any violence and wrong, ought to begin with him-
self, to present himself first to the sentence of jus-
tice; and, in order to purge himself, to implore the
assistance of the hangman. The son should take
place next, and then the stranger. If this precept
seem a little too severe, he ought, at least, to pre-
sent himself the first to the sting of his own con-
science.
The senses, which perceive things only by external
strikes our accidents, are our proper and first judges; and it is
termines no wonder if, in all the parts of our social duty,
our judge there is so perpetual and universal a mixture of
gravity, ceremonies and superficial appearances, insomuch that
and fortune therein consists the best and most effectual part of
our civil government. It is still man with whom we
gives have to do, whose condition is wonderfully corporeal.
weight to a As for those who, of late years, have aimed to erect
silly things such a contemplative and immaterial exercise of re-
from his ligion for us, let them not wonder if there be some
of the
speaker
thousand
that fall
lips.
who think it had slipped and vanished through their
fingers, had it not continued among us as a mark,
title, and instrument of division and partition, more
than by itself. As in a conference, the gravity, the
robe, and the fortune of the speaker, often give a
reputation to vain and silly arguments; it is not to
be presumed, but that a gentleman so attended, and
that strikes such an awe, has some sufficiency in him
that is more than common; and that the man to
whom the king has given so many commissions and
offices, a man of so solemn and supercilious a coun-
tenance, must be a person of greater abilities than
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
179
another who salutes him at a great distance, and
who has no employment. Not only the words, but
the grimaces of those people, are considered, and
put to the account, every one making it his business
to give them some fine and solid construction. If
they condescend to common conversation, and you
offer them any thing but approbation and reverence,
they knock you down with the authority of their
experience: they have heard, they have seen, they
have done so and so; you are crushed with ex-
amples. I would choose to tell them that the fruit
of a surgeon's experience is not the history of his
practice, and his calling to mind that he has cured
four people of the plague, and three of the gout,
unless he knows how to extract something from it
on which to form his judgment, and make us sensi-
ble that he is thereby become the wiser in the use of
his art. As, in a concert of music, we do not hear
a lute, a harpsichord, and a flute alone, but one
blended harmony of all the instruments together.
If they are improved by travelling, or by their
posts, their understanding will make it appear. It
is not enough to count the experiments: they must
be weighed and sorted, digested and distilled, in
order to extract the arguments and inferences which
they carry with them. There were never so many
historians. It is always good and useful to attend to
them, for they furnish us every where with excellent
and commendable instructions from the magazine of
their memory, which, doubtless, is of great impor-
tance to the support of life. But it is not this we
seek for now: we examine whether these relaters
and collectors of things are commendable them-
selves. I hate every kind of tyranny, both in words
and deeds. I heartily set myself against those vain
circumstances which deceive our judgment through
the senses; and, whilst I narrowly observe these
extraordinary grandees, I find that, at best, they are
but men as others are:
N 2
180
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING,
men ap-
Rarus enim fermè sensus communis in illû
Fortuna.*
For 'tis rare
If wealth uncommon, common sense can share.
Why great Perhaps, we think them less than they are, by
pear some- reason they undertake more, and make a greater
times to be parade, and at the same time do not perform what
foolish they engaged in. There must be more vigour and
are in fact, strength in the bearer than the burden.
more
¡
He who
has not exerted his full strength, leaves you to guess
whether he has still more, and whether he has been
tried to the utmost of what he is able to perform.
He who sinks under his burden, discovers the mea-
sure of his strength, and the weakness of his shoul-
ders. This is the reason why we find so many more
silly mortals among the learned than there are
others. Some of them would have made good hus-
bandmen, good merchants, and good artificers: their
stock of natural vigour was proportioned to those
callings. Knowledge
Knowledge is a thing of great weight:
they faint under it. Their genius has neither vigour
nor dexterity enough to display and distribute this
rich and powerful matter, nor to make use and
advantage of it. It has no prevailing virtue but in
a strong nature; and such natures are vary rare.
The weak ones, says Socrates, spoil the dignity of
philosophy by handling it. It appears useless and
vicious when it is not well placed. Thus it is that
they spoil and make fools of themselves:
Humani qualis simulator simius oris,
Quem puer, arridens, pretioso stamine serum
Velavit, nudásque nates ac terga reliquit,
Ludibrium mensis.‡
* Juv. sat. viii. ver. 73.
+ Like precious liquor which is spoiled if poured into a vessel that
is not clean.
Sincerum est nisi vas, quodcumque infundis, acescit.
Tainted vessels sour their contents.
+ Claudian in Eutrop. lib. i. ver. 303, &c.
}
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
181
Just like an ape that, sprung from mimick race,
With various aspects counterfeits man's face,
Which boys, for sport, with silken vest adorn,
But leave its buttocks bare, to raise their scorn.
Nor is it enough for those who govern and command
us, who have the world, as we say, in a string, to be
men of common understanding, and to be able to
do what we can; for if they are not very much
superior to us they are far below us, since as they
promise more they ought to perform more.
66
rable use
Yet silence in them not only gives them an air of Silence is
respect and gravity, but often also conduces to their of admi-
profit and service. Megabysus, going one day to see to the
Appelles in his painting room, sat still a long time great.
without speaking a word; but at last, beginning to
discourse of his performances, he received this harsh
reprimand from him: "Whilst thou wast silent*
"thou seemedst to be some person of great ac-
"count, because of thy chains, and thy pompous
appearance; but now that we have heard thee
speak, there is not the meanest boy in my work-
"shop that does not despise thee." His magnificent
habit, and his great state, condemned his ignorance
the more, while he talked of painting so imperti-
nently. He ought to have said nothing at all, and
not betrayed his superficial and conjectural know-
ledge. How many fools, in my time, have passed
for men of prudence and capacity, 'by reason of
their gravity and taciturnity!
66
offices dis-
Dignities and offices are of necessity conferred The
more by fortune than by merit, and kings are often greatest
blamed for it wrongfully. On the contrary, it is a tributed by
wonder that they should have so much fortune with
so little skill:
Principis est virtus maxima, nosse suos.†
* Plutarch, in his treatise How to distinguish the Flatterer from
the Friend, chap. 14.
+ Martial. lib. viii. epig. 15, ver. ult.
mere for
tune.
?
182
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
Whether
always a
No greater virtue can a prince enjoy
Than well to know the men he would employ.
For nature has not given them a sight that can ex-
tend to so many people, to discern where lies the
preference, and to penetrate into our breasts, where
our will and worth are best to be known. They
must make choice of us by conjecture and trial; by
our family, wealth, learning, and by the voice of the
people; all very weak arguments. Whoever could
find out a way to form a right judgment of this,
and to choose men by reason, would, by so doing,
establish a perfect form of government.
#
Nay more, he has brought this grand affair to a
success be point. This is saying something, but not enough:
proof of for this opinion is justly admitted, that we are not
sufficiency to judge of counsels by events. The Carthagi-
nians* punished their generals for giving wrong ad-
vice, though it was attended with happy success;
and the people of Rome often refused triumph for
great and very advantageous victories, because such
success was not to be expected from the general's
conduct. We commonly see, in the transactions of
the world, that fortune, to show us her power in all
things, and which takes pleasure in mortifying our
presumption, not being able to make fools wise, she
makes them happy in spite of virtue, and is forward
to favour those operations which are most purely of
her own plan. Hence it is that we daily see the
simplest among us bring very great business, both
public and private, to an issue: and as Sirannez,†
the Persian, made answer to those who wondered
how his affairs succeeded so ill, considering that his
*The Carthaginians are said to have hanged up their generals,
though victorious, if the advice they acted by was wrong, Tit. Liv.
lib. xxxviii. cap. 48.
+ Or rather Seiramnes Zug, as we read it in Plutarch, in his
prologue to the Remarkable Sayings of the ancient Kings, Princes,
and Generals,
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
183
deliberations were so wise :
"That he was sole
master of his purposes, but the success of his
"affairs was wholly in the power of fortune."*
These may return the same answer, but with a con-
trary bias.
Most of the affairs of this world are
performed by accidents:
Fata viam inveniunt.†
The Fates are sure to find a way.
The event often justifies very foolish conduct. Our
interposition is as it were but a thing of course, and
more commonly a consideration of use and example
than of reason. Being amazed at the greatness of a
deed, I have formerly been acquainted, by those
who have performed it, of their motives and their
address, and have found nothing therein but very
ordinary advice; and the most common and cus-
tomary are also, perhaps, the most sure and con-
venient for practice, if not for show. What if the
plainest reasons are the best planned? What if the
lowest, the basest, and most beaten, are best adapted
to affairs? In order to preserve the authority of the
counsels of kings, it is not necessary that prophane
persons should participate in them, or see farther
into them than the first out-line. My consultation
skims over the subject a little, and slightly considers
it by the first appearances. The stress and main of
the business I have been used to resign to heaven:
Permitte divis cætera.‡
Leave to the gods the rest.
great share
Good fortune and ill fortune are, in my opinion, Chance has
two sovereign powers. It is a folly to think that a very
human prudence can play the part of fortune; and in human
vain is his attempt who presumes to comprehend actions.
causes and consequences, and to lead the progress
of his design, as it were, by the hand: vain, espe-
* Plutarch, in the preface, above mentioned, to the Remarkable
Sayings.
+ Virg. Æneid. lib. iii. ver. 395.
Horat. lib. i. ode 9, ver. 9.
་
184
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
How we
cially in military deliberations. There never was
greater circumspection and military prudence than
has been sometimes seen amongst us. Could it be
that men were afraid of perishing by the way, that
they reserved themselves for the catastrophe of the
game? I even affirm, that our very wisdom and
consultation, for most part, follow the conduct of
chance. My will and my reason are sometimes
moved by one impulse, and sometimes by another;
and many of those movements govern themselves
without me. My reason has uncertain and casual
agitations:
3
Vertuntur species animorum, et pectora motus
Nunc alios, alios, dum nubila ventus agebat,
Concipiunt.*
Now one impression in their bosoms dwells;
Another, when the wind the clouds dispels.
If we but observe who are the men of the greatest
sway in cities, and who do their own business best,
we shall commonly find that they are men the least
qualified. Women, children, and fools, have had the
fortune to govern large dominions equally well with
princes of the greatest abilities; and we find, says
Thucydides, that the stupid governors out-number
those of better understandings. We ascribe the
effects of their good fortune to their prudence:
Ut quisque fortunâ utitur,
Ita præcellet; atque exinde sapere illum omnes dicimus.†
According to their wealth all men we prize;
The rich are sure to be cried up for wise.
Wherefore I make no manner of scruple to declare,
that events are slender proofs of our worth and
capacity.
Now I was upon this point, that there needs no
are impos- more than to see a man raised to honour; though we
rank.. knew him but three days before to be a man of little
ed upon by
* Virg. Geor. lib. i. ver. 420, &c.
+ Plautus in Pseud. act ii. sc. 3, ver. 13.
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
185
consequence, yet an idea of his greatness and suffi-
ciency insensibly steals upon our opinions; and we
persuade ourselves that as he increases in equipage
and credit, so he increases in merit. We judge of
him not according to his worth, but, as we do of
counters, according to the prerogative of his rank,
Let luck but turn, so that he fall again, and be
mixed with the common crowd, every one inquires
with astonishment into the cause of his having been
raised so high. "Is it he?" say they.
"Did he
•
"know no better when he was in place? Are
"princes so easily satisfied? Really we were in fine
“hands.” This very thing is what I have often
seen in my time. Nay the mask of greatness, which
is represented in comedies, in some measure affects
and deceives us. What I myself adore in kings, is
the crowd of their adorers. All reverence and sub-
mission is due to them, except that of the under-
standing. My reason is not obliged to bow and
bend, but my knees are. Melanthius, being asked
what he thought of the tragedy of Dionysius, said,
"I have not seen it, it is so obscured with lan-
cc
""*
guage. And most of those, who judge of
the discourses of great men, should say, I did not
understand its drift, it was so obscured with gravity,
grandeur, and majesty. Antisthenes one day per-
suaded the Athenianst to give order that their asses
might be as well employed in the tillage of their
lands as their horses. The answer made to him was,
that "The ass was an animal not born for such
"service." "It is all one," replied he, " you need
"only command it to be done; for the most igno-
rant and incapable men that you employed in
your military orders, immediately become worthy
66
66
* Plutarch, in his treatise of Hearing, chap. 7 of Amyot's trans-
lation.
+ Diog. Laert. in the Life of Antisthenes, lib. vi. sect. 8, where
this is told in a manner somewhat different, but in the main it
amounts to the same thing.
*
186
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
"by your employing them." This is much like
the custom of many nations who, when they have
chosen a king, canonize him; and do not think it
enough to honour him, if they do not also adore
him. The people of Mexico, after the ceremonies
of his coronation are over, dare no more to look
him in the face; but, as if they had made him a
god, as well as a king, among the oaths they make
him take, to maintain their religion, laws, and liber-
ties, to be valiant, just, and courteous; he swears
also to make the sun travel with its usual light, to
make the clouds distil at the proper season, the
rivers to run in their channels, and to make the
earth bear all things necessary for his people.
Mon- I dissent from this common practice, and have the
to suspect more distrust of a man's capacity when I see it ac-
companied with a great fortune, and the public ap-
plause. We ought to consider of how great advan-
tage it is for a man to speak when he pleases, to
preferred choose his subject, to break off the argument, or
to a great change it with a magisterial authority, to defend
himself against those who argue with him by a nod of
the head, a smile, or by silence, in the presence of an
assembly trembling with reverence and respect. A
man of a monstrous fortune, offering to give his
judgment in a slight dispute that was foolishly set on
foot at his table, began in these very words "He
"who says otherwise than so or so, must be a liar,
"or an ignoramus." Pursue this philosophical
point sword-in-hand.
taigne apt
a man's
ability
from the
moment
that he is
post.

Important
forming a
man's ca-
There is another observation I have made, that
advice for has been of great service to me, which is, that in
right judg- disputes and conferences, all the phrases which we
ment of a think good, are not immediately to be accepted.
pacity in Most men are rich in borrowed stock. One man
may happen to say a good thing, to give an excellent
answer, and advance a notable sentence without
knowing the force of it. That a man is not master
of all that he borrows may be, perhaps, verified in
myself. It is not always necessary to yield presently
conversa-
tion.
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
187
to what is advanced, whatever truth or beauty it has.
Either a man must heartily oppose it, or draw back,
on pretence of not understanding it, to try in all
parts how it is lodged in its author. It may happen
that we may embarrass ourselves, and help to push
the argument too far. I have sometimes, in the
necessity and heat of combat, made pushes that have
gone through and through, beyond my design and
expectation. I only gave them in number, but they
were received by weight: in like manner, when I
contend with a brisk disputant, I please myself with
anticipating his conclusions; I ease him of the trou-
ble of explaining himself, I endeavour to prevent his
imagination whilst it is yet springing up and imper-
fect; the order and pertinency of his understanding
warns and threatens me at a good distance. With
these I take a course quite contrary. I must under-
stand and suppose nothing but by them. If they
give judgment in general terms, "this is good, this
"is bad," and that they happen to be in the right,
see if it be not fortune that hits it off for them. Let
them circumscribe, and limit their judgment a little,
why, or how is it so. These universal judgments,
which I see so common, signify nothing. These are
men who salute a whole people in a crowd together.
Such as have a perfect knowledge of them take no-
tice of, and salute them particularly, and by name;
but it is a hazardous attempt. From hence I have
frequently seen it fall out that shallow wits, affecting
to appear ingenious in taking notice of the beautiful
passages in a work which they are reading, fix their
admiration with so ill a choice, that, instead of dis-
covering the author's excellence to us, they only ex-
pose their own ignorance. It is a false exclamation
to say,
"this is fine," after having heard a whole
page of Virgil. By this means the cunning ones
save their credit. But to undertake to follow him
by a passage here and there, and, with a positive
and approved judgment, to attempt the observing
where a good author surpasses himself, weighing the

188
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
"
terms, phrases, inventions, and various excellences,
one after another, by all means forbear it. Videndum
est non modo, quid quisque loquatur, sed etiam, quid
quisque sentiat, atque etiam, quâ de causâ quisque
sentiat :* "We are not only to observe what every
one says, but also what he thinks, and for what
"reason he thinks so." I every day hear fools say
things that are not silly. If they say a good thing,
let us examine where they had it. We help them to
make use of this fine expression, and of that fine
argument, which is not their own, and which they
only have in keeping: they bolt them out at a ven-
ture, and by guess; we make them turn out to their
credit and esteem. You lend them a hand, but to
what purpose? They do not think themselves obliged
to you for it, and become still the greater block-
heads. Never second them; let them go on in their
own way; they will handle the subject like people
afraid to burn their own fingers. They neither dare
to change its situation nor light, nor to dive into it.
Shake it ever so little, it slips through their fingers;
and, be their cause ever so good and strong, they
give it up to you. These are fine weapons, but have
not good hafts. How many times have I seen the
proof of them. Now, if you go to explain things
to them, and confirm them, they catch at it, and
immediately steal the advantage of your interpretá-
tion, by saying, "That was what I was going to say;
"that was just my thought, and if I did not express
"it so clearly it was for want of language." This
is mere gasconade. There had need be malice itself
employed to correct this haughty stupidity. Hege-
sias's doctrine, that we are neither to hate nor ac-
cuse, but to instruct, is right elsewhere; but here
it is injustice, and inhumanity, to relieve and set him
right, who cares not for it, and is the worse for it.
I love to let them sink deeper, and entangle them-
selves more and more in the mire, till at last, if it be
* Cic. de Offic. lib. i. cap. 41,
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
189
possible, they may own their mistake. Folly and
nonsense are not to be cured by admonition, of
which we may properly say, as Cyrus did to the per-
son who importuned him to make an harangue to his
army just before a battle, viz. that men are not im-
mediately rendered valiant and warlike by a fine
oration, no more than a man suddenly becomes a
musician by hearing a fine song. These are appren-
ticeships that are to be served before-hand by a long
and constant discipline. We owe this care, and this
assiduity of correction and instruction, to our own
people; but to go and preach to the first person that
passes by, and to lord it over the ignorance and folly
of the first we meet, is a custom that I heartily ab
hor. I rarely do it, even in private discourse, and
sooner give up my cause than proceed to such retro-
grade and magisterial instructions. My temper is
unfit either to speak or write for petty princes. But
in things which are said in common, or amongst
others, however false and absurd I think them, I
never oppose them either by word or sign.
able thing
his admira-
that he
says.
As to the rest, nothing puts me so much out of The most
conceit with a fool, as that he pleases himself more disagree-
than any man of sense can reasonably please himself. in a fool is
It is a misfortune that prudence forbids us self-con- tion of e-
tentment and confidence, and sends us always away very thing
discontented and diffident in cases, where obstinacy
and rashness fill those that are guilty of them with
joy and assurance. The ignorant are they who look
back at other men over the shoulder, always return
ing from the combat full of joy and triumph. And
this haughtiness of style, and gaiety of countenance,
often gives them the advantage, in the opinion of
by-standers, who are commonly weak and incapable
of rightly judging and discerning the real advantages.
Obstinacy and vehemence in opinion is the surest
proof of stupidity. Is there any thing so positive,
resolute, scornful, contemplative, serious, and grave
as an ass?
;
190
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING,
The useful-
ness of
smart and
bold re-
partees in
tion.
May we not incorporate in discourse and conver-
sation the sharp and pointed expressions which mirth
and familiarity introduce among friends, pleasantly
conversa and briskly jesting with, and bantering one another?
This is an exercise for which my natural gaiety fits
me well enough; and, though it be not as tedious
and serious, as that other exercise which I mentioned
just now, it is every whit as acute and ingenious,
and, as Lycurgus thought, altogether as useful. For
my part, I contribute more freedom than wit to it,
and am more obliged to luck than to invention; but
I am perfect in suffering, for I can bear a retaliation
that is not only tart, but indiscreet also, without being
at all moved. And whenever I am attacked, if Ĭ
have not a brisk repartee ready, I do not trouble
myself by pursuing the subject with a nauseous im-
pertinent contest, bordering upon obstinacy. I let
it drop, am glad to give up the point, and wait a
better opportunity to take satisfaction. No mer-
chant is always a gainer. Most men, when their
strength fails them, change their countenance and
voice; and, by an unseasonable indignation, instead
of revenging themselves, accuse at once their own
folly and impatience. In these jovial moments we
sometimes pinch the private strings of our imperfec-
tions, which, when composed, we cannot touch
without offence; and we hint our defects to one
another to our advantage.
There are other rough and indiscreet contentions,
after the French manner, which I mortally hate. I
have a tender skin, which is sensible of the least touch.
I have, in my time, known two princes of our royal
blood interred, who lost their lives by such a dispute.
It is unhandsome, at play, to fall out and fight.
When I have a mind to judge of any one, I ask
him how he likes himself, to what degree his speech
or his work pleases him. I bar those fine apologies:
"I did it only for my pastime; I was not an hour
"about it; I have not looked over it since."
{
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
191
Ablatum mediis opus est incudibus istis.*
This work, unfinish'd, from the anvil came,
thod Mon-
judgmentof
the author
Well but, say I, set those pieces aside, and give What me-
one that represents you entire, such an one as you taigne took
would be measured by. And then what do you think to form a
is the best part of your performance? Is it this part, or a composi-
that? the grace or the subject, the invention, the tion, when
judgment, or the learning? For I commonly find, submitted
that men are as wide of the mark in judging of their to it.
own works, as those of others; not only by reason
of the fondness they have for them, but for want of
ability to know and distinguish them. The work,
by its own merit and fortune, may second the work-
man, and outstrip him beyond his invention and
knowledge. For my part, I do not judge of the
value of other men's works more obscurely than of
my own; and the rise and fall of my Essays, in my
estimation, is very wavering and inconstant. There
are many books that are useful upon account of their
subjects, from which the author derives no praise;
and there are good books, as well as good works,
which are a disgrace to the operator. I may write
of the manner of our feasts, of the fashion of our
clothes, and may treat of them with an ill grace. I
may publish the edicts of my time, and the letters
of princes that are handed about. I may make an
abridgment of a good book (though all abridgments
of good books are silly t), which book may come to
be lost, and the like. Posterity may receive singular
benefit from such compositions; but what honour
shall I get, unless it be by mere good luck? A great
part of the authors of note are in this condition.
Several years ago, when I read Philip de Comines,
who is, doubtless, a very good author, I took notice
* Ovid. Trist. lib. i. eleg. 6, ver. 29.
+ Somebody, however, has thought fit to publish a kind of abridg-
ment of Montaigne's Essays (called L'Esprit des Essais, &c.) but,
as if the abridgment had been made only to justify Montaigne's ob-
servation, it died as it were in its birth, and is not like to be ever
reprinted.
9
192
of the art of DISCOURSING.
A digres
66
CC
of this, as an uncommon maxim, "That a man
"should be cautious of doing his master so much
❝service as to hinder him from meeting with a just
requital." I ought to commend the invention,
not him; for I not long ago met with it in Tacitus,
who says,
"That benefits give us pleasure, while they
"are not too great to be requited; but, when they far
"exceed that, hatred is returned instead of thanks."*
And Seneca does not scruple to say, Nam qui non
putat esse turpe non reddere, non vult esse cui red-
dat:+"He who thinks it a shame not to make a
"requital, wishes the man, to whom he owes it,
"was not in being." Quintus Cicero says, a little
more faintly, Qui se non putat satis facere, amicus
esse nullo modo potest :‡" He who thinks it not in his
power to make you satisfaction, can by no means
"be your friend." The subject, according to
what it is, may procure the writer a reputation for
learning, and a good memory; but to inspect him,
and see what talents are most his own, and most
worthy, and the vigour and beauty of his genius,
it is necessary to know what is his own, and what is
not so; and, in that which is not his own, to consi-
der how much we are obliged to him for the choice,
disposition, ornament, and language, which he has
furnished. What if he has borrowed the matter, and
spoiled the form, as often happens? We, who have
have little acquaintance with books, are in this diffi
culty, that, when we meet with some beautiful in-
vention in any modern poet, any powerful argument
in a preacher, we dare not, however, commend them
for it, till we have first informed ourselves by some
learned man whether the same be their own, or bor-
rowed. Till then I am always on my guard.
+
I have very lately read the history of Tacitus,
from the beginning to the end (which is the more re-
genius, and markable in me, as it is twenty years ago since I
sion con-
cerning the
+ Seneca, ep. 81.
* Tacit. Annal. lib. iv. cap. 18.
Q. Cicer. de Petitione Consulatus, cap. 9..
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
198
stuck to any one book an hour together), and I did it character
at the persuasion of a gentleman whom France holds of Tacitus.
in very great esteem, not only for his own worth,
but for a constant appearance of capacity and virtue,
which is discovered in many of his brothers, I do,
not know any author that, in a public narrative, has
interwoven such remarks on manners, and particulan
inclinations; and I am of a quite contrary opinion
to him, which is that, being especially to write the
lives of the emperors of his time, so various and ex-
traordinary in every shape, and to relate so many
notable actions, as their cruelty particularly pro-
duced in their subjects, he had more important and
more engaging matter to discourse of, and to relate,
than if he had been to describe battles, and universal
commotions; insomuch, that I often find him insipid
when he runs over the deaths of those brave men,
as if he feared we should think them too, numerous
and tedious. This kind of historiography is by much.
the most useful. Public commotions depend most
upon the conduct of fortune; private ones upon.
our own. This work of Tacitus is rather a judgment
given upon facts, than a deduction of history. There
are more lessons than stories in it: it is not a book
to read, but to study and learn: it is full of opinions,
some right, others, wrong; it is a nursery of ethics
and politics, for the use and ornament of such as
have any share in the government of the world Ha
always uses solid and vigorous arguments in a sharp
subtle manner, according to the affected style of
that age and was so fond of the sublime that, where
sharpness and subtlety were wanting in the matter,
he supplied the defect with lofty swelling words.
His way of writing is much like that of Seneca.
His style seems to me to be the more nervous, Sene-
ca's more sharp. But Tacitus's history is the most
proper for a troubled, sickly state, as ours is at pre-
sent; and you would often say, that he both paints
and pinches us.
They who doubt of his integrity, plainly enough
vol. III.
('

194
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
though a
the public
censured
ly.
:
Tacitus, confess they do not like him in other respects. Hist
sincere his opinions are solid, and lean for the most part, to
torian, and wards the Roman affairs. Nevertheless, I am a lit-
zealous for tle out of temper with him for judging more severely
good, has of Pompey, than suited with the opinion of those
Pompey worthy men that lived in the same time, and treated
too severe- with him; and for thinking Pompey, in all respects,
like Marius and Sylla, excepting that he was more
close.* His intention, in the management of affairs,
has not been exempted from ambition, nor revenge;
and his very friends were afraid that his victory
would have transported him beyond the bounds of
reason; but not a degree so much beyond all re-
straint. There is nothing in Pompey's life that
carries the marks of such express cruelty and tyran-
ny. Neither ought we to compare suspicion to evi-
dence; consequently I do not believe Tacitus in this
matter. Supposing his narratives to be genuine and
right, it might, perhaps, be argued, even from
hence, that they are not always exactly applied to
the conclusions of his judgments, which he always
follows, according to the bias he has taken, often
beyond the subject he opens to us, to which he has
not deigned to give the least regard. He needs no
excuse for having approved of the religion of his
time, as it was enjoined by the laws, and for having
been ignorant of the true religion. This was his
misfortune, not his fault.

Whether
a right
of a para-
I have principally considered his judgment, and do
he formed not fully understand it every where; and these
judgment words, particularly, in a letter which Tiberius, when
graph in a old and sick, sent to the senate, "What shall I
letter from write to you, sirs, or how shall I write to you, or
the senate. "what shall I not write to you at this juncture ?†
May the gods and goddesses lay a worse punish-
❝ment upon me, than what I feel every day, if I
"know." I do not see why he should so positively
apply them to a stinging remorse of Tiberius's con-
Tiberius to
CC
Tacit. Hist. lib. ii. cap. 38. † Tacit. Annal. lib. vi. cap. 6.
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
195
science. At least, when I was in the same case, I
perceived no such thing.
for making
spoke of
his history.
This is also deemed to me a little mean in Tacitus,* Blamed by
that, being to say he had exercised a certain ho- Montaigne
nourable office of the magistracy, he excused him- an apology
self by saying that he did not mention it by way of for having
ostentation. This seems a little too low an expres- himself in
sion for such a genius as his was; since for a man
not to do himself justice, implies some want of cou
rage; one of a rough and lofty judgment, which is
also safe and sound, makes use of his own example
upon all occasions, as well as those of others; and
gives evidence as freely of himself as of a third person.
We are to supersede these common rules of civility
in favour of truth and liberty. I presume not only
to speak of myself, but of myself alone. When I
write of any thing else, I mistake my way, and lose
my subject: yet I am not indiscreetly enamoured
with or so bigotted to, and enwrapped up in myself,
that I cannot distinguish and consider myself apart,
as I do a neighbour, or a tree. It is equally a failing
for a man not to discern all his ability, or to say
more than he sees in himself. We owe more love to
God than to ourselves, and know him less; yet we
speak of him as much as we please.
If the writings of Tacitus make any discovery of The cha
his qualities, he was a great man, upright and bold; racter of
not of a superstitious, but of a philosophical, and be judged
generous virtue.
Tacitus to
of by his
writings.
A man may think him bold in his stories; as where Tacitus,
he says that a soldier carrying a bundle of wood, his and all his-
hands were so frozen, and stuck so fast to it, that to be com-
torians are
relating
they were severed by it from his arms. I always, in
I always, in mended for
such things, submit to such great authorities.† extraordi-
What he says also of Vespasian,t that by the favour nary facts
of the god Serapis, he cured a blind woman in Alex-lar ru-
* "Domitianus edidit ludos seculares, iisque intentius affui, sa-
"cerdotio Quindecimvirali præditus, actum Prætor, quod non
"ja ctantia refero," &c. Tacit. Annal. lib. xi. cap. 11.
Hist. lib. iv. cap. 81.
Tacit Annal. lib. xiii. cap. 35.
and popu
mours.
0 2
196
OF THE ART OF DISCOURSING.
andria, by anointing her eyes with his spittle, and
I know not what other miracles: he does it by the
example and duty of all good historians, who keep
registers of such events as are of importance. Among
public accidents are also common rumours and opi-
nions. It is their part to relate the things commonly
believed, not to regulate them, This is the pro-
vince of the divines and the philosophers, who are
the guides of men's consciences. Therefore it was
that this companion of his, and as great a man as
himself, very wisely said, Equidem plura transcribo
quàm credo: nam nec affirmare sustingo, de quibus
dubito, nec subducere quæ accepi :* "Indeed I set
"down more things than I believe; for as I cannot
"endure to affirm things whereof I doubt, so I can-
"not smother what I have heard." And this other;
Hac neque affirmare neque refellere opera pretium
est-famæ rerum standum est :† "It is not worth
"while to affirm, or to confute these matters; we

cc
must stand to report:" and as he wrote in an age
when the belief of prodigies began to decline, he
says, he would not, nevertheless, omit to insert in
his annals, and to give a place to things received by
so many worthy men, and with so great a reverence
of antiquity. This was well said. Let them deliver
us history more as they receive than believe it. I,
who am a monarch of the subject I treat of, and
who am accountable to nobody, do not, however,
believe every thing I write. I often hazard the sallies
of my fancy, of which I am very diffident, as well as
certain quibbles, at which I shake my ears; but I let
them take their chance. I see that by such things
some get reputation: it is not for me alone to judge.
I present myself standing, and lying on my face, my
back, my right side and my left, and in all my natu-
ral postures. Wits, though equal in force, are not
always equal in taste and application. This is what

* Q. Curtius, lib. ix. chap. 1, translated by Vaugelas.
+ Tit. Liv. lib. i. in the preface, and lib. viii. cap. 6.
OF VANITY:
197
my memory has furnished me with in gross, and
with uncertainty enough. All judgments in the
gross are weak and imperfect.
CHAPTER VIII.
Of Vanity.
pleasant
of his own
T
HERE is not perhaps any vanity more express, Mon-
than to write of it so vainly. That which the divi- taigne's
nity has so divinely delivered of it to us, ought to be apology
carefully and continually meditated by men of un- dertaking
derstanding. Who sees not that I have taken a this.register
road, in which I shall incessantly and easily jog on, humours.
so long as I can come at ink and paper? I can give
no account of my life by my actions; fortune has
placed them too low: I must do it by my fancies.
And yet Í have seen a gentleman who only commu-
nicated his life by the workings of his belly: you
might see in his house a regular range of closestool-
pans of seven or eight days standing: that was all
his study, all his discourse; all other talk stunk in
his nostrils. These here, but a little more decent, are
the excrements of an old mind, sometimes hard,
sometimes loose, and always indigested; and when
shall I have done representing the continual agita-
tion and mutation of my thoughts, on whatever
subject comes into my head, seeing that Diomedes*
* Here Montaigne seems to have relied simply upon his memory,
and to have mistaken Diomedes for Dydimus the grammarian, who,
as Seneca says, wrote four thousand books on questions of vain lite-
rature, which was the principal study of the ancient grammarians.
In some of these books was an inquiry into Homer's native coun-
try; in others, who was the true mother of Æneas; in some; whề-
ther Anacreon was the greater whore-master, or drunkard; in
others, whether Sappho was a common strumpet: and the like
things which were better unlearned, if you knew them. Seneca,
epist. 88.
198
OF VANITY.
Sorry
ought to be
by the
laws, and
why,
wrote six thousand books upon the sole subject of
grammar? What then must be the product of loqua-
city, if the world was stuffed with such a horrible load
of volumes to facilitate pronunciation and free utter-
ance? So many words about words only. O Pytha-
goras, why didst not thou lay this tempest! They ac-
cused one Galba of old for living idly; he made an-
swer, "That every one ought to give account of his
"actions, but not of his leisure."* He was mista-
ken, for justice takes cognizance of, and passes cen-
sure even upon those that pick straws.
But there should be some restraint of law against
scribblers foolish and impertinent scribblers, as well as against
suppressed Vagabonds and idle persons; which, if there was,
both I and a hundred others would be banished the
kingdom. I do not speak this in jest: scribbling
seems to be a symptom of a licentious age. When
did we write so much as since our civil wars? When
the Romans so much, as when their commonwealth
was running to ruin? Besides that the refining of
wits does not make people wiser in state policy. This
idle employment springs from hence, that every one
applies himself negligently to the duty of his voca-
tion, and is diverted from it. The corruption of the
age is a fund to which each of us contribute. Some
treachery, others injustice, irreligion, tyranny, ava-
rice and cruelty, according as they are in power;
and the weaker sort, of which I am one, contribute
folly, vanity, and idleness. It seems as if it were the
season for vain things when the hurtful oppress us.
In a time when doing ill is so common, to do no-
thing but what signifies nothing is a kind of com-
* This was a_saying of the emperor Galba, in his life by Sueto-
nius, sect. 9. It must be allowed here, either that Montaigne did
not quote this from the original, or that his memory failed him; for,
if he had meaned the emperor Galba, he would not have called him,
as he here does, one Galba of old. This is so palpable, that in the
edition of his Essays, printed at Paris in 1602, by Abel l'Angelier,
in that part of the index referring to this passage, care is taken to
point out expressly, that the Galba here mentioned is to be dis-
finguished from the emperor of this name.
OF VANITY.
199
mendation. It is my comfort, that I shall be one of the
last that shall be called to account; and whilst the
greater offenders are taken to task, I shall have lei-
sure to amend; for it would, methinks, be against
reason to prosecute little inconveniences, whilst we
are infected with the greater. As the physician,
Philotimus, said to one who presented him his finger
to dress, and who he perceived, both by his com-
plexion and his breath, had an ulcer in his lungs :
"Friend," said he, "this is not a time for you to
"be paring your nails.”*
men amuse
most abuse
And yet I saw, some years ago, a person whose Howstates-
memory I have in very great esteem, who in the the people
very height of our great disorders, when there was while they
neither law nor justice, nor magistrate that perform- them.
ed his office, any more than there is now, published
I know not what pitiful reformations about clothes,
cookery, and chicanery in law. These are amuse-
ments wherewith to feed a people that are ill used,
to show that they are not totally forgot. Those others
do the same, who insist upon a strict prohibition of
the forms of speaking, dances, and games, to a peo-
ple totally abandoned to all sort of execrable vices.
It is no time to bathe and clean a man's self when
he is seized with a violent fever. It is for the Spar-
tiates only to fall to combing and curling them-
selves, when they are just upon the point of running
head-long into some extreme danger of their life.
more mo-
For my part, I have yet a worse custom, that if Montaigne
my shoe go awry, I let my shirt and my cloak do so wiser and
too; I scorn to mend myself by halves: when I am derate in
in a bad plight, I feed upon mischief; I abandon than adver
myself through despair; let myself go towards the sity.
precipice, and, as the saying is, "throw the helve
after the hatchet." I am obstinate in growing
worse, and think myself no more worth my own care;
I am either good or ill throughout. It is a favour
* Plutarch, in his Treatise how to distinguish the Flatterer from
the Friend, chap. 31.
prosperity
200
OF VANITY.
Change
to me, that the 'désolation of this kingdom falls out
in the desolation of my age: I am less concerned
that my ills be multiplied than that my goods be dis-
turbed. The words I utter in misfortune, are words
of spite. My courage sets up its bristles instead of
letting them down; and, contrary to others, I am
more devout in good than evil fortune, according to
the precept of Xenophon, if not according to his
reason, and am more ready to turn up my eyes to
heaven to return my thanks, than to crave; I am
more solicitous to improve my health when I am
well, than to recover it when I have lost it.
perities are the same discipline and instruction to
me, that adversities and persecutions are to others:
as if good fortune were inconsistent with a good
'conscience men never grow good, but in ill fortune.
Good fortune is to me a singular spur to modesty
and moderation. Entreaty wins me, a menace checks
me, favour makes me bend, fear stiffens me.

Pros-
Amongst human conditions this is very common,
pleasing to viz. to be better pleased with strange things than our
own, and to love motion and change:
men.
3
Ipsa 'dies ideò nos grato pertuit haustu
Quod permutatis hora recurrit aquis.”
The sun itself makes the more pleasant tour,
Because it changes horses every hour.
I have my share. Those who follow the other ex-
treme by being pleased with themselves, who value
what they have above all the rest, and conclude no
beauty can be greater than what they see, if they
are not wiser than we, are really more happy. I do
not envy their wisdom, but their good fortune.
This greedy appetite for new and unknown things
makes me the more desirous of travel: but many
more circumstances contribute to it. I am very
willing to withdraw from the government of my
family. There is, I confess, a kind of convenience
* Petronius Arbiter. Epig.
OF VANITE
201
!
in commanding, though it werê but in a barn, and
to be obeyed by one's servants: but it is too uniform
and languishing a pleasure, and is moreover of ne-
cessity mixed with many vexatious thoughts, as one
while the poverty and the oppression of your dé-
pendance; another, quarrels amongst neighbours;
another while the encroachment they make upon
you afflicts you :
Aut verberatie grandine vinete,
Fundusque mendax, arbore nunc aquas
Outpante, nunc torrentia agros
Sydera, nunc hyemes iniquas,*
Whether his vines be smit with hail,
Whether his promis'd harvest fail,
Perfidious to his toil;
Whether his drooping trees complain
Of angry winter's chilling rain,
'Or stars that parch the soil.


1
:
and that God scarce in six months sends a season to
the satisfaction of your bailiff; but that, if it serves
the vines, it hurts the meadows:
Aut nimiis torret fervoribas ætherius sol,
Alt subiti perimunt imbres, gelidaeque pruina,
·Flabráque ventorum violento turbine vexant.†
Whether the sun, with its too scorching pow'rs,
Burns up the fruits, or clouds them drown with show'rs
Or, chill'd by too much snow, they soon decay;
Or sudden whirlwinds blow them all away.
To which may be added, the new and neat-made
shoe of the man of old,‡ that hurts your foot; and
that a stranger does not understand how much it
costs you, and what you contribute to maintain
that show of order which is seen in your family, and
which perhaps you buy too dear.
I came late to the government of a family.
whom nature sent into the world before me,
They The go-
eased vernment
* Horat. lib. iii, ode 1, ver. 25, &c. † Lucret. lib. v. ver 216, &c.
+ Plutarch's Life of Paulus Æmilius, chap. 3.
of a family
202
OF VANITY.
blesome
un es od
by our au-
thor.
more trou- me of that trouble for a long while: so that I had
bhan hard, already taken another turn more suitable to my hu-
and little mour; yet for so much as I have seen, it is an em-
ployment more troublesome than difficult. Whoever
is capable of any thing else, will easily be capable of
that. Had I a mind to be rich, that way would seem
too long; I had served my kings, a more profitable
traffic than any other. Since I pretend to nothing but
the reputation of having got nothing, as I have squan-
dered nothing, conformable to the rest of my life, im-
proper either to do good or ill of any moment; and
that I only desire to rub on, I can do it, thanks be to
God, without any great attention. At the worst,
always prevent poverty by lessening your expense:
it is that which I make my great concern, and to
live within bounds before necessity compels me. As
to the rest, I have sufficiently settled my thoughts
to live upon less than I have, and to live contentedly.
Non estimatione census, verum victu, atque cultu,
terminatur pecuniæ modus:* "It is not by the value
"of our possessions, but by our diet and clothing
"that our expenses should be regulated." My real
need does not so wholly take up all I have, but
misfortune may fasten her teeth without biting me
to the quick. My presence, as contemptible as it is,
and as little as I know of matters, is of service in my
domestic affairs; I employ myself in them, but it
goes against the grain, considering also, that while
I burn my candle at one end by myself, the other end
is not spared.
The ex-
pense of
Journeys do me no harm but only by their ex-
travelling pense, which is great, and more than I am well able
* Cicer. Paradox. vi. cap. 2. Mere common sense demonstrates
this to the lowest class of people, who, when they see a purse-proud
creature, ridicule him by saying: "If he is so rich, let him dine
"twice a day." This, though a common sarcasm (in France),
contains a wise hint, very little known to most great men, who for
want of it are engaged in employing one half of their lives to ren-
der the other wretched.
OF VANITY.
203
keep him
to bear; being always wont to travel with not only did not
a necessary, but a handsome, equipage. I must from it.
make them the shorter and the fewer, and therein I
spend but the surplus, and what I have reserved for
such purpose, delaying and timing my motion till
that be ready. I desire not that the pleasure of go-
ing abroad should spoil the pleasure of my being
retired at home. On the contrary, I intend they
shall nourish and favour one another. Fortune has
assisted me in this, that since my principal pro-
fession in this life was to live at ease, and rather to
have nothing to do than too much, she has spared
me the necessity of growing rich, to provide for a
multitude of heirs. If there be not enough for one,
of that whereof I had so much plenty, at his peril
be it; his imprudence will not deserve that I should
wish him any more. Every one, according to the
example of Phocion, provides sufficiently for his
children, who provides for them so as they bear a
resemblance to himself. 1 should by no means like
Crates's way. He left his money in the hand of a
banker, with this condition; that if his children
were fools, he should then give it to them; if
witty, he should then distribute it to the foolish
among the people. As if fools, for being less ca-
pable of living without riches, were more capable
of using them. So it is that the damage which is
occasioned by my absence, seems not to deserve, so
long as I am able to support it, that I should wave
the occasions of diverting myself from that trouble-
some attendance.
always
There is always something that goes cross. The Domestic
affairs one while of one house, and then of another, affairs are
almost distract you. You pry into every thing too teasing.
near; your perspicacity hurts you here as well as in
other things. I steal away from occasions of vexing
myself, and turn from the knowledge of things that
go amiss; and yet cannot I so order it, but that
every hour I stumble at something or other that dis-
pleases me. And the tricks which they most con-
204
OF VANITY.
E
céal from me, are those that I best know. Some
there are that a man himself must help to conceal,
that they may do the less mischief. Vain vexations,
vain sometimes, but always vexatious. The small-
est and slightest impediments are the most piercing :
and as small letters most tire the eyes, so do little
affairs the most disturb us. A route of little ills
more offend than the violence of any single one, how
great soever. Domestic thorns, the more numerous
and delicate they are, they prick the deeper; and
without warning, easily surprise us, when we least
suspect them. I am no philosopher. Evils
Evils oppress
me according to their importance, and they import
as much according to the form as the matter; and
very often more. I see farther into them than the
vulgar, yet I have more patience. Finally, they vex
me, if they do not hurt me. Life is a tender thing,
and easily disturbed. Since my face looks a little
more mórose (Nemo enim resistit sibi cum cœperit
impelli "For no man recovers himself, after he
:*
"once begins to stoop"), for the most trivial cause
imaginable, I irritate that humour, which afterwards
nourishes and exasperates itself of its own accord ;
attracting and heaping up matter upon matter
whereon to feed:
Stillicidi casum lapidem cavat.↑
A falling drop at last will cave a stone.
Gutta cavat saxum non vi, sed sæpe cadendo.
These continual trickling drops corrode and prey
upon me. Ordinary inconveniences are never light,
they are continual and irreparable; and when they
spring from family-concerns are continual and inse
parable. When I consider my affairs at a distance
and in gross, I find, perhaps, because my memory
is none of the best, that they have improved hitherto
beyond my reason and reckoning. Methinks my re-
venue is greater than it is: the prosperity betrays
* Seneca, epist. 18.
↑ Lucret. lib. i. ver. 314.
OF VANITY,
205
me: but when I pry more narrowly into the busi-
ness, and see how all things go separately:
Tum vero in curas animum diducimus omnes.*
Then my breast
Is with innumerable cares oppress'd
I have a thousand things to desire and to fear. To
give them quite over is very easy for me to do:
but to look after them without trouble is very hard.
It is a miserable thing to be in a place where every
thing you see employs and concerns you. And I
fancy that I more cheerfully enjoy the pleasures of
another man's house, and with freer and purer re-
lish. Diogenes,t according to my humour, answered
him who asked what sort of wine he liked best,
"That which is not my own.”
for build-
sures of a
My father took a delight in building at Montaigne, Montaigne
where he was born; and in all the management of had no taste
domestic affairs, I love to follow his examples and ing, or
rules; and shall engage those who are to succeed other plea-
me, as much as in me lies, to do the same. Could I do retired life.
better for him, I would; and am proud that his will
is still performing and acting by me, God forbid,
that I should ever fail in any resemblance of life to
so good a father. As I have taken in hand to finish
a certain old wall, and to repair a ruinous piece of
building, I have really done it more out of respect
to his design, than to my own satisfaction; and am
angry at myself, for being so lazy that I have not
proceeded farther to finish what he began in his
house; and the more, because I am very likely to
be the last possessor of my race, and to give the last
hand to it. For, as to my own particular applica-
tion, neither this pleasure of building, which they
say is so bewitching, nor hunting, nor gardens, nor
the other pleasures of a retired life, are capable of
giving me much amusement. And it is what I am

* Virg. Æn. lib. v. ver. 720.
+ Diog. Laert. in the Life of Diogenes the Cynic, lib. vi. sect. 54.
206
OF VANITY.
angry at myself for, as I am for all other opinions
that are incommodious to me; which I would not
so much care to have vigorous and learned, as I
would have them easy and convenient for life. They
are true and sound enough, if they are profitable
and pleasing. Such as, hearing me declare my ig-
norance in husbandry, whisper in my ear, that it
is out of disdain that I neglect to know the instru-
ments of husbandry, its season and order; how they
cultivate my vines, how they graft, and to know
the names and forms of herbs and fruit, and the
dressing the meat by which I live, with the
names and prices of the stuffs I wear, because I have
set my heart upon some sublimer knowledge, hurt
me in saying so. This is folly, and rather stupidity
than glory; I had rather be a good horseman than
a good logician:
Quin tu aliquid saltem potius quorum indiget usus,
Viminibus mollique paras detexere junco ?*
Mind rather what the wants of life demand;
To weaving willow twigs apply thy hand.
We embarrass our thoughts about the general con-
cern, and about universal causes and effects, which
are very well carried on without us, and leave our
own business behind, with the care of our own per-
sons, which are nearer to us, than that of any man
whatever. Now I am indeed for the most part at
home, and wish to be better pleased there than
elsewhere:
Sit meæ sedes utinam senectæ,
Sit modus lasso maris, et viarum,
Militiæque.†
May that which was the Grecian's seat
Afford my age a calm retreat;
Be it my port of rest and ease,
From warfare, journeys, and rough seas.
I know not whether or no I shall bring it about; I
could wish, that instead of some other parcel of his
* Virg.eclog. ii. ver. 71.
+ Horat. lib. ii. ode 6, ver. 6.
9
OF VANITY.
207:
i
estate, my father had consigned to me the passionate
affection he had in his old age to his economy. He
was happy in that he could accommodate his desires
to his fortune, and satisfy himself with what he had.
State-philosophy may to much purpose condemn the
meanness and sterility of my employment, if I can
once come to relish it as he did. I am of opinion,
that the most honourable calling is to serve the pub-
lic, and to be useful to many. Fructus enim ingenii,
et virtutis, omnisque præstantiæ, tum maximus acci-
pitur, quum in proximum quemque confertur:* "We
"reap most advantage from wit, virtue, and all
"sorts of merit, when every one of our nearest re-
"lations has a share of it." For my part, I quit all
claim to it; partly out of laziness, and partly out
of conscience; for where I see the weight that lies
upon such employments, I perceive also the little
means I have to contribute to them; and Plato,
who was a master in all political government, never-
theless abstained from them. I content myself with
enjoying the world without being perplexed with it,
and only to live an irreproachable life, and such a
one as may neither be a burden to myself, nor to
any other.

that he
self to the
some trusty
Never did any man more full and freely resign His wish
himself to the care and government of a third person, couldaban-
than I would do, had I any one to trust in. One of don him-
my wishes at this time would be, to have a son-in- govern-
law that knew how to humour my old age, and to ment of
lull it asleep; into whose hands I might deposit friend.
the chief and sole management and use of all my
goods, that he might dispose of them as I do, and
get by them what I get, provided that he had a heart
truly grateful and friendly. But, what shall we say,
we live in a world where loyalty in one's own chil-
dren is unknown.
He that has the charge of my purse upon travel, He loved
has it purely, and without control; so that he conce
* Cicero de Amicitia, cap. 19.-
to
repose a
confidence
208
OF VANITY.
mestics.
in his do- might easily deceive me in reckoning; and, if he
is not a devil, I oblige him to be honest, by so en-
tire a trust: Multi fallere docuerunt, dum timent
falli, et aliis jus peccandi suspicando fecerunt :*
"Many have taught others to deceive, by fearing
“to be deceived; and by suspecting them, have
"given them a handle to be unjust.'
તંદુ
The most
common security I take of my people, is their igno-
rance; I never suspect any to be vicious till I have
found them so, and repose the most confidence in the
younger sort, who I think are least corrupted by
bad examples. I had rather be told at two months
end, that I have expended four hundred crowns,
than to have my ears dinned every night with three,
five, and seven; and yet I have suffered as little as
any body by this kind of larceny. It is true, I ana
willing enough not to know it; I do, in some sort in
good earnest, harbour a kind of perplexed, uncer-
tain knowledge of my money; for to a certain pro-
portion, I am content with room to doubt. One
must leave a little for the infidelity or indiscretion
of a servant : if we have enough in gross to do our
business, let the overplus of fortune's liberality run
a little more freely at her mercy; it is the gleaner's
perquisite, After all, I do not so much value the
fidelity of my people, as I contemn their injury.
What a vile and ridiculous thing it is for a man to
set his heart on his money, to delight himself with
handling and telling it! That is the way by which
avarice makes it approaches.
He avoided
tion into
mere negli-
.

In eighteen years that I have had my estate in my
an inspec- own hands, I could never prevail with myself, either
his own af- to inspect my deeds, or my principal affairs, which
fairs by ought of necessity to pass through my knowledge
and care. It is not a philosophical disdain of worldly
and transitory things. My taste is not refined to
that degree; and I value them at least at what they
are worth: but it is in truth an inexcusable and

gence.
* Seneca, epist. 3.
OF VANITY.
209
દ
childish laziness and negligence. What would I not
rather do than read a covenant, and sooner than be
a slave to my own business, and to tumble over a
bundle of old musty deeds? or, which is worse,
those of another man, as so many do now a-days to
get money? I grudge nothing but care and trouble,
and aim at nothing so much as to be quite careless
and indolent. I was much fitter, I believe, could
it have been without obligation and servitude, to
have lived upon another man's fortune: yet I do not
know, when I examine it nearer, whether, according
to my humour, what I suffer from my affairs, and
servants, and domestics, has not in it something
more abject, troublesome, and tormenting, than
there would be in serving a man better born than
myself, who would guide me with a gentle rein,
and a little at my own ease. Servitus obedientia est
fracti animi, et abjecti, arbitrio carentis suo :* “ Ser-
"vitude is the obedience of a broken spirit and an
"abject mind, wanting its own free-will." Crates Poverty
did worse, who threw himself into the franchise ofo
verty, only to rid himself of the inconveniences and
cares of his family. This is what I would not do;
I hate poverty equally with pain; but I could be
content to change the kind of life I live for another
that was meaner, and had less business. When ab-
sent from home, I stripped myself of all such
thoughts; and would be less concerned for the ruin
of a tower, than I am, when present, at the fall of
a tile. My mind is easily composed when I am at a
distance, but suffers as much as that of the meanest
peasant at what happens in the place where I am.
The reins of my bridle being wrong placed, or a
strap flapping against my leg, will put me out of
humour a day together. I raise my courage well
enough against inconveniences, lift up my eyes I
cannot.
VOL. III.
Sensus, ô superi, sensus.
* Cicero, paradox. v. cap. 4.
P
!
affected by
Crates.
210
OF VANITY..
The senses! O ye gods, the senses!
I am at home responsible for whatever goes amiss.
Few masters, I speak of those of middle rank, aş
mine is (and if there be any such, they are happy),
can rely so much upon another, but that great part
of the burden will lie upon their own shoulders.
This takes much from my grace in entertaining
strangers, so that I have perhaps detained some
rather out of expectation of a good dinner, than by
my behaviour; and I lose much of the pleasure I
ought to reap at my own house, from the visits and
company of my friends. The most ridiculous car-
riage of a gentleman in his own house, is when he is
bustling about the business of the family, whisper-
ing one servant, and frowning at another. It ought
insensibly to slide on like a gentle stream; and I
think it equally unhandsome to talk much to their
guests of their entertainment, whether by way of
bragging or excuse. I love order and cleanliness,

Et cantharus, et lanx
Ostendunt mihi me.*
Glasses well rins'd, my table always grace,
And dishes shine, in which I see my face.
more than profusion: and at home have an exact
regard to necessity, little to outward show. If a
footman falls to cuffs at another man's house, or if a
dish be spilled, you only laugh at it. You sleep whilst
the master of the house is stating a bill of fare with
his steward, for your next day's entertainment. I
speak according as I do myself, esteeming neverthe
less good husbandry in general, considering how
pleasant an amusement a quiet and happy manage-
ment, carried regularly on, is to some natures; and
not willing to annex my own errors and incon-
veniences to the thing, nor to contradict Plato, who
looks upon it as the most pleasant employment for
every one to do his own business, without wrong to
* Horat. lib. i. epist. 5, ver. 23, 24,
OF VANITY.
211
another. When I travel, I have nothing to care for
but myself, and the laying out of my money;
which is disposed of by one single precept.
hoard
to lay it
Too many things are required to the raking it Mon-
together, of which I have no notion; in spending it at all in-
I understand a little, and how to give my expenses a clined to
reputation, which is indeed their principal use. But money, but
I rely too vainly upon this which renders it unequal knew how
and unfashionable, and moreover immoderate, in out.
both views. If it makes a show, if it serve the turn,
I indiscreetly let it run, and as indiscreetly tie up
my purse-strings if it does not shine and please me.
Whatever it be, whether art or nature, that imprints
in us the condition of living to please others, it does
us much more harm than good. We deprive our-
selves of our own profit, to
own profit, to accommodate ap-
pearances to the common opinion. We care not so
much what our being is, as to ourselves, and in
reality, as what it is in the public observation. Even
the talents of wit, and wisdom itself, seem fruitless
to us, if only enjoyed by ourselves, and if it pro-
duce not itself to the view and approbation of
others. There is a sort of men whose gold runs in
clusters imperceptibly under-ground; others expend
it all in plates and leaves, so that to the one a liard*
is worth a crown, and others the reverse: the world
esteeming its use and value, according to the dis-
play of it. All curious solicitude about riches smells
of avarice: even the very disposing of it with a too
punctual and artificial liberality, is not worth a pain-
ful thought. He that will order his expense to just
so much, makes it too pinched and narrow. The
saving or spending money are of themselves indif
ferent things, and receive no colour of good or ill,
but according to the application of the will.
The other cause that tempts me to these journeys, The de-
is a nonconformity to the present manners of our morals of
* A piece of copper money worth three farthings.
praved
P 2
212
OF VANITY.
his coun-
try, an-
other mo-
tive of
Mon-
taigne's
travelling.
state; I could easily put up with this corruption for
the sake of the public interest,
Pejoraque sæcula ferri
Temporibus, quorum sceleri non invenit ipsa
Nomen, et à nullo posuit natura metallo.*
Worse than the iron age, so bad these times!
Nature no metal hath to name our crimes.
but not for my own. I am in particular too much
oppressed. For in my neighbourhood we are of
late, by the long licentiousness of our civil wars,
grown old in so riotous a form of state,
Quippe, ubi fas versum atque nefas.†
Where impious mortals right and wrong confound.
that in earnest, it is a wonder how it can subsist :
Armati terram exèrcent, semperque recentes
Convectare juvat prædas, et vivere rapto.‡
With arms upon their backs they plow the soil,
And their delight is to subsist by spoil.
In fine, I see by our example, that the society of
men is maintained and held together at any price: in
what condition soever they are placed they will still
close and stick together, both moving and in heaps;
as uneven bodies that, shuffled together without
order, find of themselves a means to unite and settle
one among another, often better than they could
have been disposed by art. King Philip mustered
up a rabble of the most wicked and incorrigible
rascals he could pick out, and put them all together
into a city he had caused to be built for that pur-
pose, which bore their name. I reckon that they
even from the vices erected a government amongst
themselves, and a commodious and just society. I
see not one action, either three, or a hundred, but
manners, in common and received use, so cruel,
* Juven. sat. 13, ver. 28, &c.
‡ Virg. Æm lib. vii. ver. 748.
५
+ Geo. lib. i. ver. 504,
Пngós, or Rogues-town. Plin. Nat. Hist. lib. iv. cap, 11,
OF VANITY.
213
especially in inhumanity and treachery, which are to
me the worst of all vices, that I have not the heart
to think of them without horror; and almost as
much admire as I detest them. The exercise of
these notorious villanies carries as great signs of
vigour and fortitude of mind, as of error and dis-
order. Necessity reconciles and brings men to-
gether; and this accidental union is afterwards
cemented by itself into laws: for there have been
as savage ones as any human opinion could conceive,
which nevertheless have maintained their body with
as much health and length of life as any that Plato
or Aristotle could invent. And certainly all these
descriptions of civil government, feigned by art, are
found to be ridiculous, and unfit for practice.
of all dis-
putes about
form of go-
These great and tedious debates about the best The drift
form of society, and the most commodious rules to
bind us, are debates only proper for the exercise of the best
our wits; as in the arts there are several subjects vernment.
which have their being in agitation and controversy,
and have no life but there. Such an idea of govern-
ment might be of some value in a new world; but
ours is a world ready made to our hands, and formed
to certain customs. We do not beget it as Pyrrha
or Cadmus did theirs. By what means soever we
may claim the privilege to set it to rights, and give
it a new form, we can hardly twist it from its wonted
bent, but we shall break all. Solon being asked,
whether he had established the best laws he could
for the Athenians; "Yes," said he, "of those they
"could receive." Varro excuses himself after the
same manner, that if they were to begin to write of
religion, he would say what he believed; but it
being already received, he would write more ac-
cording to usance than nature. Not according to
opinion, but in truth and reality, the best and most
excellent government for every nation is that under
which it is maintained. Its form and essential con-
venience depends upon custom. We are apt to be
displeased at the present condition; but I neverthe-
214
OF VANITY.
Nothing is
more dan-
state than
a great
change.
less maintain, that to desire an oligarchy in a popular
state, or another sort of government in a monarchy
than that already established, is both vice and folly:
Ayme l'estat tel que tu le vois estre;
S'il est royal ayme la royauté,
S'il est de peu, ou bien communauté,
Ayme l'aussi, car dieu t'y a faict naistre.*
Approve the government, whate'er it be ;
If regal, praise it in the first degree;
Or if 'tis form'd on democratic sway,
Thou owest still th' allegiance to obey.
So wrote the good Monsieur de Pybrac, whom we
have lately lost, a man of so excellent a wit, so
sound opinions, and so sweet a behaviour. This
loss, and that at the same time we have had of
Monsieur de Foix, are of so great importance to the
crown, that I do not know whether there is another
couple left in France worthy to supply the room of
these two Gascons for sincerity and wisdom, in our
king's council. They were both great geniuses, and
certainly, according to the age, rare and excellent,
each of them in his way. But what destiny was it
placed, in these times, men so remote from, and so
disproportioned to, our corruptions and intestine
tumults?
Nothing presses so hard upon a state as in-
gerous to a novation: change only gives form to justice and
tyranny. When any piece is out of its place, it may
be propt; one may obviate the alteration and cor-
ruption natural to all things lest they carry us too
far from our beginnings and principles: but to un-
dertake to new mould so great a mass, and to change
the foundations of so vast a building, is for them to
do, who, to make clean, rub all out; who are for
reforming particular defects by an universal confu-
sion, and for curing diseases by death: Non tam
commutandarum quam evertendarum rerum cupidi :†
"Not so desirous of changing, as of overthrowing
Pybrac aux quadrins. + Cicer. Offic. lib. ii. cap. 1.
1
OF VANITY.
1
"things." The world is incapable to cure itself;
and so impatient of any thing that presses it, that it
thinks of nothing but disengaging itself, cost what
it will. We see by a thousand examples, that it
ordinarily cures itself to its cost: the discharge of a
present evil is no cure, if there be not a general
amendment of condition. The surgeon's end is not
to deaden the bad flesh, which is but the beginning
of his cure; his view is likewise to fill up the wound
with natural flesh, and to restore the member to its
due state. Whoever only proposes to himself to re-
move that which offends him, falls short, for good
does not necessarily succeed evil; another evil may
succeed, and a worse, as happened to Cæsar's as-
sassins, who brought the republic to such a pass, that
they had reason to repent their having a hand in it.
The same has since happened to several others, even
down to our own times. The French, my contem-
poraries, know it well enough. All great changes
shake and disorder a state.
able in-
215
attends the
tion of a
Whoever would aim directly at a cure, and con- Remark-
sider of it before he begun, would not be so earnest stance of
to attempt it. Pacuvius Calavius corrected the vice the diffi-
of this proceeding by a notable example. His fel-culty that
low citizens having mutinied against their magis- reforma-
trates, he, being a man of great authority in the city state.
of Capua, found means one day to shut up the sena-
tors in the palace, and calling the people together in
the square, he told them, that the day was now come,
wherein they were at full liberty to revenge them-
selves on the tyrants by whom they had been so long
oppressed; and whom he had now all alone, and
disarmed at his mercy: advising also, that they
would call them out severally by lot; and particu-
larly determine of each; causing whatever should
be decreed to be immediately executed ;* with this
caution that they should at the same instant depute
* All this is mentioned in Titus Livius, lib, xxiii. cap. 2, 3, and
touched as I think by a masterly hand.
12
216
OF VANITY,
Govern-
ments stand
their
ground
though
very much
shattered.
t
some honest man in the place of him that was con-
demned, to the end there might be no vacancy in
the senate. They had no sooner heard the name of
one senator, but a clamour of universal dislike was
raised against him. I see, says Pacuvius, that this
man must be put out; he is a wicked fellow, let us
look out a good one in his room: immediately there
was a profound silence, every one being at a stand
whom to choose. But one, more impudent than the
rest, having named his man, there arose yet a greater
consent of voices against him, a hundred imperfec-
tions being laid to his charge, and as many just rea-
sons presently given for rejecting him. These con-
tradictory humours growing hot, it fared still worse
with the second senator and the third, there being
as much disagreement in the election of the new, as
there was consent in the putting out of the old. In
the end, growing weary of this bustle to no purpose,
they began some one way, and some another, to steal
out of the assembly; every one bearing this resolu-
tion in his mind, that the oldest and best known evil
was ever more supportable, than one that was new
and untried.
To see how miserably we are torn in pieces:
For what have we not done?
Eheu cicatricum, et sceleris pudet,
Fratrumque: quid nos dura refugimus
Ætas? quid intactum nefasti
Liquimus? Unde manus juventus
Metu deorum continuit? Quibus
Pepercit aris ?*
Alas! the shameless scars! the guilty deeds,
When by a brother's hand a brother bleeds!
What crimes have we, a harden'd age, not dar'd?
What sacred altars have our rash youth spar'd?
Not by the fear of heaven's wrath debarr'd.
I do not presently conclude in the style of a
prophet:
* Hor. lib. i. ode 35, ver. 33.
OF VANITY.
217
Ipsa si velit salus,
Servare prorsus non potest hanc familiam.*
This family does so behave
That providence them cannot save.
We are not however perhaps at the last gasp. The
preservation of states is a thing that, in all likeli-
hood, surpasses our understanding. A civil
govern-
ment is, as Plato says, a mighty thing, and so hard
to be dissolved, that it holds out many times against
mortal and intestine diseases, against the injury of
unjust laws, against tyranny, the extravagance and
ignorance of magistrates, and the licentiousness and
sedition of the people. We compare ourselves in all
our fortunes to what is above us, and still look to
wards our betters: but let us measure ourselves with
what is below us, there is no one so miserable but he
may find a thousand examples that will administer
consolation to him. It is our vice that we more un-
willingly look upon what is above, than willingly on
what is below us; and Solon was used to say, that
were we to make a heap of all evils together, there
is no person who would not rather choose to bear
with those which he suffers, than to come to an
equal division with all other men from that heap, and
take his particular share. Our government is indeed
sick, but there have been others sicker, without
dying. The gods play at tennis with us, and bandy
us every way. Enim vero dii nos homines quasi pilas
habent.*
pire, and
forms.
The stars have fatally destined the state of Rome Witness the
for an example of what they could do in this kind: Roman em-
in it are comprised all the forms and adventures that its divers
concern a state; all that order or disorder, good or
evil fortune can do. Who then can despair of his
condition, seeing the shocks and commotions where-
with she was tossed, and yet supported them all? If
the extent of dominion be the health of a state,
* Ter. Adel. act. 4, sc. 7, ver. 43.
The words of Plautus in his prologue to the Captives, ver. 22.
218
OF VANITY.
Montaigne
very ra-
tionally
which I by no means think it is (and Isocrates pleases
me, when he instructs Nicocles not to envy princes
who have large dominions,* but them who know how
to preserve those that fall into their hands), that of
Rome was never so sound, as when it was most sick:
the worst of her forms was the most fortunate. A
man can hardly discern any image of government
under the first emperors; it was the most horrible
and gross confusion that can be imagined. It sup-
ported it notwithstanding, and therein continued,
preserving a monarchy not limited within its own
bounds, but so many nations, so differing, so remote,
so ill-affected, so irregularly commanded, and so un-
justly conquered:
Nec gentibus ullis.
Commodat in populum, terræ pelagique potentem,
Invidiam fortuna suam.†
No foreign potentates did fortune yet
•
Inspire with envy against Rome so great,
That over kingdoms, and their mighty kings,
O'er land and seas she stretch'd her eagle's wings.
Every thing that totters does not tumble. The con-
texture of so great a body holds by more nails than
one. It holds even by its antiquity, like old build-
ings, from which the foundations are worn away by
time, without rough-cast or mortar, which yet live
and support themselves by their own weight:
Nec jam validis radicibus hærens,
Pondere tuta suo est.‡
Like an old lofty oak, that heretofore
Great conq'rors' spoils, and sacred trophies bore.
Moreover, to discover only the flank and the graff,
is not the right way. In order to judge of the
Concludes security of a place, it must be examined which way
approaches can be made to it, and in what condi-
Corruption tion the assailant is. Few vessels sink with their
of Europe Own weight, and without some exterior violence.
from the
general
of the states
* Isocrates ad Nicoclem, p. 34.
† Luc: n. lib. i. ver. 82.
Idem, ibid. ver. 138.
OF VANITY.
219
able to
Let us cast our eyes where we will, every thing that France
about us totters: look into all the great states, both may be
of Christendom and elsewhere, that are known to us, stand her
you will there see evident menaces of alteration and ground.
ruin :
Et sua sunt illis incommoda, parque per omnes
Tempestas.*
They all promiscuous in misfortunes share,
And the rude tempest rages everywhere.
Astrologers may very well, as they do, warn us of
great revolutions, and approaching changes: their
starry prophesies are present and palpable, they need
not look up to heaven to foretel this. There is not
only consolation to be extracted from this universal
combination of ills and menaces, but, moreover,
some hopes of the continuation of our state; foras-
much as naturally nothing falls, where all does. An
universal sickness is particular health: conformity is
an enemy to dissolution. For my part, I despair not,
and fancy that I discover ways to save us:
Deus hæc fortasse benigna
Reducet in sedem vice.†
The gods perhaps with gracious sway
Will soon restore the happy day.
Who knows but that God will have it happen, as in
human bodies that are purged, and recover a better
state of health by long and grievous maladies?
What weighs the most with me, is, that in reckoning
the symptoms of our ill, I see as many natural ones,
and such as heaven sends us, and that are properly
its own, as of those that are owing to our irregularity
and imprudence. The very stars seem to declare,
that we have continued long enough, and beyond
the ordinary term: and this also afflicts me, that the
nearest mischief which threatens us, is not an altera-
tion in the entire and solid mass, but its dissipation
and divulsion; the greatest of all our fears.
* Virg. Æneid. 11. + Horat. Epod. ode 13, ver. 10.
>
220
OF VANITY.
Repetition I moreover fear lest, in these ravings of mine, the
disagree- treachery of
able. treachery of my memory should through inadver-
tence make me write the same thing twice. I hate
to examine myself; and never review, but with an
ill-will, what has once escaped my pen. I here set
down nothing new of instruction. These are com-
mon thoughts; and having perhaps conceived them
a hundred times, I am afraid I have set them down
somewhere else already. Repetition is every where
disgusting, though it were in Homer; but much
more in things that have only a superficial and tran-
sitory show. I do not love inculcation, even in use-
ful things, as in Seneca. Neither the custom of the
Stoical school, to repeat upon every subject at
length, the general principles and suppositions, and
always to advance common and universal reasons.
My memory grows worse every day:
Our au-
thor's trea-
cherous
memory.
Pocula Lethæos ut si ducentia somnes
Arente fauce traxerim.*
Apt to let slip my argument or theme,
As if I had drank deep of Lethe's stream.
Though hitherto, thanks be to God, no difficulty has
happened; and though others seek time and
opportunity to think of what they have to say, I
must for the future avoid all such preparation, for
fear of tying myself to some indispensable obliga-
tion. To be tied and bound to a thing, and to de-
pend upon so weak an instrument as my memory,
puts me quite out: I never read this following story,
but I am offended at it with a proper and natural re-
sentment. Lyncestes, accused of conspiracy against
Alexander, the day that he was brought before the
army, according to custom, to be heard what he
could say for himself, had prepared a studied speech,t
of which, with hesitation and trembling, he pro-
nounced some words; but still more perplexed,
whilst he was struggling with his memory, and recol.
* Horat. Epod. ode xiv. ver. 3. † Q. Curt. lib. vii. cap. 1.
OF VANITY.
22T
1
lecting what he had to say, the soldiers who were
nearest levelled their pikes at him, and killed him,
looking upon him as guilty. His astonishment and
silence they judged as a confession. For having had
so much leisure to prepare himself in prison, they
concluded that it was not his memory that failed him,
but that his conscience hampered his tongue, and
stopped his speech. This was very justly inferred.
The place, the spectators, and the expectation,
astonish him, even at the time when it was incum-
bent on him to speak the best he could. What can
a man do, when his life is dependant on his oratory?
learned a
For my part, the very being tied to what I am to Even when
say is enough to make me lose hold of it. When I he had
wholly commit and refer myself to my memory, I speech by
lay so much stress upon it, that it sinks under me, heart.
and startles at the burden. So much as I trust to it,
so much do I put myself out of my own power, even
so as to know what countenance to put on; and
have been sometimes very much put to it to conceal
the slavery wherein I was shackled; when at the
time my design was to manifest in speaking a perfect
negligence both of face and accent, and to show
casual and unpremeditated motions, as rising from
present occasions; choosing rather to say nothing
to the purpose, than to show that I came prepared to
speak well; a thing especially unbecoming a man of
my profession, and a thing of too great obligation
upon him that cannot retain much; the preparation
is far short of producing the expected effect.
man oft strips himself to his doublet to leap no far
ther than he would have done in his gown. Nihil
est his qui placere volunt, tam adversarium, quam
expectatio: Nothing is so mortifying to those who
are desirous to please, as raising an expectation of
"them before-hand." It is recorded of the orator
Curio,† that when he proposed the division of his

66
"
* Cic. Acad. lib. iv. cap. 4.
+ Cicero, in lib. de claris Oratoribus, cap. 60,
A
222
OF VANITY.
:
He is ready
make addi-
book, but
tions.
oration into three or four parts, it often happened,
either that he forgot some one, or added one or two
more. I have always avoided falling into this incon-
venience, out of a hatred to these promises and pre-
scriptions, not only from a distrust of my memory,
but also because this method relishes too much of
the artist. Simpliciora militares decent. It is
enough that in the mind I am in at present, I will
never more take upon me to speak in a place of
respect; for as to speaking, when a man reads his
speech, besides that it is very absurd, it is a mighty
disadvantage to those who naturally could give it a
grace by action; and much less will I throw myself
upon the mercy of my present invention; it is heavy
and perplexed, and such as would never furnish me
in sudden and important necessities.
#
Permit, reader, this essay its course also, and this
enough to third sitting to finish the rest of my picture. I add,
tions to his but I correct not; first, because I conceive, that a
not correc. man, having once made a transfer of his labours to
the world, has no farther right to them; let him do
better if he can in some new undertaking, but not
adulterate what he has already sold; of such dealers
nothing should be bought till after they are dead:
let them well consider what they do, before they
produce them to the light. Who hastens them?
My book is always the same, saving that upon every
new edition (that the buyer may not go away quite
empty handed) I take the liberty to add, as it were
by an ill-jointed inlaying, some few supernumerary
things. They are no other but over-weight, that do
not disfigure the primitive form of those essays, but
by a little ambitious subtlety, give a kind of particu
lar repute to every one that follows. From thence
however there will easily happen some transposition
of chronology; my stories taking place according to
their fitness, and not always according to the age.
Secondly, because that for what concerns myself, I
fear to lose by the change: my understanding does
not always go forward, it goes backward too. I do

OF VANITY.
223
not much less suspect my fancies for being the se
cond or third, than for being the first, either present,
or past; we oft correct ourselves as foolishly as we
do others. I am grown older by a great many years
since my first publications, which were in the year
1580: but I very much doubt whether I am grown
an inch the wiser. I now, and I anon, are two seve-
ral persons;
but whether the better, now or anon, I
am not able to determine. It were a fine thing to be
old, if we only travelled towards improvement; but
it is a drunken, stumbling, reeling, ill-favoured mo-
tion, like that of reeds, which the air casually waves
to and fro as it lists.
ings of An-
in his more
age.
Antiochus had in his youth written strenuously in The writ
favour of the academy,* but in his old age he wrote tiochus
as much against it: which of these two soever. I corrected
should follow, would not be still Antiochus ?
After by himself
having established the uncertainty, to go about to mature
establish the certainty of human opinions, was it not
to establish doubt, and not certainty, and to promise
that had he yet another age to live, he would be al-
ways upon terms of altering his judgment, not so
much for the better, as for something else? The
public favour has given me a little more confidence
than I expected; but what I most fear, is, lest I
should glut the world with my writings: I had rather
of the two spur my reader than tire him, as a learn-
ed man of my time has done. Praise is always
pleasing, let it come from whom, or upon what ac-
count it will; yet ought a man to understand why he
is commended, that he may be self-consistent. The
vulgar and common esteem is seldom right; and I
am mistaken, if, amongst the writings of my time,
the worst are not those which have most gained the
popular applause. For my part, I return my thanks
to those good-natured men, who are pleased to take
my weak endeavours in good part. The faults of
the workmanship are no where so apparent, as in a
* Cicer. Acad. Quæst. lib. iv. cap. 22.
224
OF VANITY.
phy and
pointing
matter which of itself has no recommendation.
Blame me not, reader, for those that slip in here, by
the fancy or inadvertency of others; every hand,
every artizan, contribute their own materials. I
Orthogra- neither concern myself with orthography (and only
direct it after the old way) nor pointing, being very
despised, inexpert both in the one and the other. Where they
wholly break the sense, I am very little concerned,
for they at least discharge me; but where they sub-
stitute a false one, as they so often do, and wrest me
to their conception, they ruin me. When the sen-
tence nevertheless is not strong enough in proportion
to my poor ability, a civil person ought to reject it as
none of mine. Whoever knows how lazy I am, and
how indulgent to my own humour, will easily believe
that I had rather write as many more essays, than be
tied to revise these for so puerile a correction.
Montaigne
his own
house to
I was saying elsewhere, that being planted in the
very much deepest mine of this new metal, i. e. the very centre
exposed at of this new religion, I am not only deprived of any
the insults great familiarity with men of other kind of manners
of his than my own, and of other opinions, by which they
neighbours hold together, as by a tie that supersedes all other
civil wars. obligations; but I even do not live without danger,
during the
amongst men to whom all things are equally lawful,
and of whom the most part cannot offend the laws
more than they have already done; from whence the
greatest degree of licentiousness does proceed. All
the particular circumstances respecting me being
considered, I do not find one man of my country,
who pays so dear for the defence of our laws both in
cost and damages (to use the phrase of the lawyers)
as myself. And some there are who brag of their
ardour and zeal, that, if things were justly weighed,
do much less than I. My house, as one that has
ever been free to all comers, and at the service of
all (for I could never be induced to make a garrison
of it, which is most desired when the war is farthest
off), has sufficiently merited the popular regard, so
that it would be a hard matter to insult over me upon
OF VANITY.
225
:
my own dung-hill; and I look upon it as a wonder-
ful and exemplary thing, that it yet continues a vir-
gin free from blood and plunder during so long a
storm, and so many revolutions and tumults in the
neighbourhood. For to confess the truth, it had
been possible enough, for a man of my complexion,
to have quitted any one constant and continued form
whatever. But the invasions and incursions, altera-
tions and vicissitudes of fortune round about me,
have hitherto more exasperated than mollified the
humour of the country, and involve me in fresh diffi-
culties and dangers that are invincible.
this sort of
to him.
I escape it is true, but am troubled that it is more How dis-
by chance, and something of my own prudence, agreeable
than by justice, and am not satisfied to be out of depend-
the protection of the laws, and under any other safe- ency was
guard than theirs. As matters stand, I live above
one-half by the favour of others, which is an un-
toward obligation. I do not like to owe my safety
either to the generosity or affection of great persons,
who concur in my legality and liberty, or to the
obliging manners of my predecessors, or my own.
For what if I was another kind of man? If my de-
portment, and the frankness of my conversation
oblige my neighbours or relations, it is cruel that
they should acquit themselves of that obligation, in
only permitting me to live; and that they should
say, We allow him the free liberty of having di-
"vine service read in his own private chapel, all the
"churches round about being destroyed, and grant
"him the use of his goods, and the fruition of his
"life, as one that protects our wives and cattle in
"time of need." For my house has for many de- Lycurgus
scents shared in the reputation of Lycurgus, the the general
Athenian, who was the general trustee and treasurer all his fel-
of his fellow-citizens.* Now I am clearly of opi- low-citi-
* Plutarch, in the Lives of the ten Orators, of whom Lycurgus
was the seventh, chap. 1.
VOL. III.
Q
zens.
226
OF VANITY.
The obli-
well as
to be
strictly
nion, that a man should live by his own right and
authority, and not either by recompense or favour.
How many gallant men have rather chose to lose life,
than to owe it? I hate to subject myself to any sort
of obligation, but above all to the dues of honour.
I think nothing so expensive to me as what is given
me, and that because my will lies at pawn under the
title of gratitude, and more willingly accept. of
offices that are to be sold; being really of opinion,
that for the last I give nothing but money, but for
the other I give myself.
The tie that holds me by the laws of courtesy,
gations of binds me, I think, more than that of legal constraint;
probity, as
and I am much more at ease when bound by a scri-
promises, vener, than by myself. Is it not reason that my
conscience should be much more engaged when men
observed. simply reply upon it? In a bond, my faith owes
nothing because it has nothing lent it. Let them
trust to the faith and security they have taken, which
is not mine; I had much rather break the wall of a
prison, and the laws themselves, than my probity and
word: I am nice, even to superstition, in keeping
my promises, and therefore upon all occasions have
a care to make them uncertain and conditional. To
those of no great moment, I add the jealousy of my
own rule to make it weight; it racks and oppresses
me with its own interest. Even in actions that are
wholly my own, and free, if I once say it, I conceive
that I have bound myself, and that, delivering it to
the knowledge of another, I have positively enjoined
it to my own performance. Methinks I promise it,
if I but say it, and therefore am not apt to say much
of that kind. The sentence that I pass upon myself
is sharper and more severe than that of a judge,
who only considers it in the light of a common obli-
gation; but my conscience looks upon it with a
more severe and penetrating eye. I lag in those
duties to which I should be compelled if I did not
go. Hoc ipsum ita justum est quod recte fit, si est
OF VANITY,
227
voluntarium :* "Even that which is well done, is
"only just, when it is voluntary." If the action
has not some splendor of liberty, it has neither grace
nor honour.
Quod me jus cogit, vix voluntate impetrent.†
That which the laws have power to constrain,
They from my will would hardly e'er obtain.
Where necessity draws me, I love to let my will take
its own course. Quia quicquid imperio cogitur, exi-
genti magis quam præstanti acceptum refertur:
For whatever is compelled by power, is more
"ascribed to him that exacts, than to him that per-
"forms it." I know some who follow this rule,
even to injustice, who will sooner give than restore,
sooner lend than pay, and will do those the least
good to whom they are most obliged. I am of a
quite contrary humour.
:
much hated
he thought
be dis-
attachment
I so much love to disengage and release myself, He so
that I have sometimes looked upon the ingratitude, to be obli-
affronts, and indignities, which I have received from gated that
those, to whom either by nature or accident I was it an ad-
bound in some duty of friendship, as an advantage vantage to
to me, taking this occasion of their ill-usage for an eugaged
acquittance and discharge of so much of my debt, from his
And though I still continue to pay them all the to persons
apparent offices of common civility, I notwithstand-by their in-
ing find myself very sparing of doing that upon the gratitude.
account of justice, which I did upon the score of
affection, and am a little eased of my former atten-
tion and solicitude by my inward will. Est prudentis
sustinerė ut cursum, sic impetum benevolentiæ ;‡
" It
"is the part of a wise man to keep as tight a curb
upon the heat of his friendship, as upon the fury
"of his horse;" my friendship being too urging
and pressing where I take, at least for a man who
loves not to be importuned. And this husbanding
66
* Cicero de Offic. lib. i. cap. 9.
+ Ter. Adel. act. iii. scen. 5, ver. 44, of Daçier's edit.
Cicero de Amicitia, cap. 17.
Q 2
228
OF VANITY.
Į
Why he is
for dis-
pensing
with his
acknow-
ledgments
even to-
wards
princes.
•
my friendship serves me for a sort of consolation in
the imperfections of those with whom I am con-
cerned. I am sorry they are the less to be valued
for it; but so it is, that I also diminish in my applica-
tion and engagement towards them. I approve of a
man that is the less fond of his child for having a
scald-head or being crooked, and not only when he
is ill-natured, but also when he is unhappy and base-
born (for God himself has made abatement from his
value and natural estimation), provided he carry him-
self in this coldness of affection with moderation and
exact justice. Proximity lessens not defects with
me, but rather makes them greater.
After all, according to what I understand in the
science of benefits and acknowledgment (which is a
subtle science, and of great use), I know no person
whatever more free and less indebted than I am at
this hour. What I do owe, is simply to common and
natural obligations; as to any thing else, no man is
more absolutely clear:
Munera.*.
Nec sunt mihi nota potentum
:
Nor did I e'er take gifts from men in pow'r.
Princes give me enough, if they take nothing from
me; and do me good enough, if they do me no
harm; that is all I ask of them. Oh, how am I
obliged to Almighty God, who has been pleased
that I should receive all I have immediately from
his bounty, and particularly reserved all my obliga-
tion to himself! How earnestly do I beg of his di-
vine mercy, that I may never owe real thanks to
any one! O happy liberty wherein I have hitherto
lived! May it continue with me to the last. I en-
deavour to have no absolute need of any one.
me omnis spes est mihi : "All my hope is in myself."
This is what every one may be able to place in him-

* Virg. Æn. lib. xii. ver. 519.
Ter. Adelph. act. iii. sc. 5, ver. 9.
In
OF VANITY.
229
self, but more easily they whom God has sheltered
from natural and urgent necessities. It is a wretch-
ed and dangerous thing to depend upon another.
Ourselves, on whom is our most just and safest de-
pendance, are not sufficiently assured. I have nothing
mine but myself, and yet the possession is in part
defective and borrowed. I fortify myself both in
courage, which is the strongest assistant,* and also
in fortune, therein to satisfy myself, though every
thing else should forsake me. Eleus Hippiast not
only furnished himself with science, that he might
at need cheerfully retire from all other company to
enjoy the Muses, nor with the knowledge of philo
sophy only to teach his soul to be contented with
it, and bravely to subsist without external conveni-
ences, when fate would have it so; he was, besides,
so curious as to learn cookery, to shave himself, to
make his own clothes, his own shoes and drawers,
and, as far as possible, to rely upon himself, and to


66
* In the fourth edition of 1588, when this third volume was first
published, Montaigne only says, "I cultivate and enlarge myself
"with all the care I can, that I may have wherewithal to satisfy
me when I am by all abandoned." It is my opinion that it would
have been best if he had stopped there; because" for a man to
arm himself with courage so as to be contented though he
"should he should be on all sides abandoned," is the greatest effort
that man is capable of. Nor is this point attainable but by practice,
which whoever has once arrived to, he has nothing more to do but to
persist in it, in order to be sheltered from the insults of fortune.
Now to add after this "to fortify himself in fortune," &c. is reduc-
ing the first thought to nothing, or making a distinction where in
fact there is none. This criticism does not appear to me to be too
refined; if it be, I consent that it may not have a place in any fu-
ture edition of Montaigne's Essays.
+ Eleus Hippias made his boast at the Olympic games, that there
was nothing in any art of which he was ignorant, not only of the
liberal arts, as geometry, music, literature, and poetry, together with
natural philosophy, ethics, and politics, but that he made with his
own hand the ring and the very clothes he wore, &c. as above.
Cicero de Oratore, lib. iii. cap. 32. If at the time here mentioned
there had been public places in Greece, where men of the first
rank had spent the prime of life in splendor, in gaming, or in do-
ing nothing, poor Hippias, instead of gaining applause at the Olym
pic Games would have been hissed out of the theatre.

230
OF VANITY.
shift without the assistance of others. A man more
freely and cheerfully enjoys borrowed conveniences,
when it is not an enjoyment forced and constrained
by necessity, and when a man has in his own will
and fortune wherewith to live without them. I
know myself very well.
well. But I can hardly expect to
meet with such pure generosity, such free and frank
hospitality from any person, as would not appear to
me¯unhandsome, tyrannical, and tainted with re-
proach, if necessity had reduced me to it. As
giving is an ambitious quality and prerogative, so is
accepting a quality of submission. Witness the in-
jurious and quarrelsome refusal that Bajazet made of
the presents that Themir sent him; and those that
were offered in the behalf of the emperor Solyman
to the emperor of Calicut, were so much disdained
by him, that he not only rudely rejected them; say-
ing, that neither he nor any of his predecessors had
ever been wont to take, and that it was their office
to give; but moreover caused the ambassadors sent
for that purpose to be put into a dungeon. When
Thetis, says Aristotle, flatters Jupiter, when the
Lacedæmonians flatter the Athenians, they never
put them in mind of the good they have done them,
which is always odious, but of the benefits they
have received from them; they who I see so fami-
liarly employ every one in their affairs, and thrust
themselves into so much obligation, would never do
it, did they but relish the sweetness of pure liberty
as I do, and did they but weigh, as wise men
should, the burden of an obligation. It is some-
times perhaps returned, but it is never dissolved
this is a miserable slavery to a man that loves to be
at full liberty upon all accounts. My acquaintance,
both better and meaner men than myself, are able
to say whether they have ever known a man less
importuning, soliciting, entreating, and less bur-
densome to others than I have been: and, in this,
it is no great wonder if I am not to be paralleled,
since so many parts of my manners contribute to it;
OF VANITY.
231
备
​as a little natural pride, an impatience of being re-
fused, the contraction of my desires and designs,
an incapacity for all kind of business, and my most
beloved qualities, idleness and freedom; from all
these together I have conceived a mortal hatred to
being obliged to or by any other than myself. I
leave no stone unturned, rather than employ the be-
neficence of another in any slight or important oc-
casion or necessity whatever. My friends strangely
importune me, when they advise me to call in a
third person; and I think it as painful to disengage
him who is indebted to me, by making use of him,
as it is to engage myself to him that owes me no-
thing these conditions being removed, provided
they require of me nothing of any great trouble or
care (for I have declared mortal war against all
care), I am easily entreated, and ready to do service
to every one that needs it. Yet I have, I confess,
more avoided receiving, than sought occasions of
giving; and, according to Aristotle, it is much
more easy. My fortune has allowed me but little to
do others good with, and the little it can afford is
put into a pretty close hand. Had I been born a
person of rank, I would have been ambitious to
have made myself beloved, not to make myself
feared or admired; shall I more vainly express it?
I would have been as proud to please as to do good.
Cyrus very wisely, and, by the mouth of a great
captain and better philosopher, prefers his bounty
and benefits much before his valour and warlike con-
quests; and the elder Scipio, wherever he would
raise his esteem, sets a higher value upon his affa-
bility and humanity, than his prowess and victories,
and has always this glorious saying in the mouth,
"that he has given his enemies as much cause to
"love him, as his friends. I will say then, that
if a man must of necessity owe something, it ought
to be by a more lawful claim than that whereof I
am speaking, to the necessity I am engaged in by
232
OF VANITY.
this miserable war; and not by so great a debt as
that of my total preservation; a debt that over-
whelms me. I have a thousand times gone to bed
at my own house with an apprehension that I should
be betrayed and murdered that very night, com-
pounding with fortune, that it might be without ter-
ror, and with quick dispatch; and after my Pater
noster have cried out,
Impius hæc tam culta novalia miles habebit ?*
Shall impious soldier have these new-plough'd lands?
What remedy? it is the place of my birth, and most
of my ancestors have here fixed their affection and
name; we harden ourselves to whatever we are ac-
customed; and in so miserable a condition as ours
is, custom is a great bounty of nature, which takes
off the acuteness of many evils that we suffer. A
civil war has this with it worse than other wars have,
to make us all stand centry in our own houses:
Quam miserum, portâ vitam muroque tueri,
Vixque suæ tutum viribus esse domus !+
To one's own walls and gates 'tis wretched sure
To trust one's life, yet scarce to be secure.
It is a grievous extremity for a man to be straitened
for room, and to be disturbed in his own house.
The country where I live is always the first that
takes up arms, and the last that lays them down,
and which never enjoys an entire calm:
Tum quoque cum pax est, trepidant formidine belli.+
In time of peace, they quake for fear of war.
Quoties pacem fortuna lacessit;
Hac iter est bellis; melius, fortuna, dedisset
Orbe sub Eoo sedem, gelidaque sub Arcto,
Erantesque domos.§
* Virg. Eclog. i. ver. 71.
+Ovid. Trist. lib. iv. eleg. 1, ver. 69.
‡ Idem, lib. iii. eleg. 10, ver. 67.
Lucan. lib. i. ver. 255, 256.-251, 252, 253.
OF VANITY.
233
Oh ill built city, too, too near the Gaul!
Oh sadly situated place! when all
The world hath peace, this is the scene of war,
And first that, is invaded: happier far
Might we have liv'd in farthest North or East,
Or wand'ring tents of Scythia, than possess'd
The edge of Italy.
My carelessness and indolence sometimes fortify me
against these considerations, and they also in some
measure lead us on to resolution. I oft imagine and
expect mortal dangers with a kind of delight.* I
stupidly plunge myself headlong into death, without
considering or taking a view of it, as into a dark
and deep vortex, which swallows me up in a trice,
and smothers me in an instant by a profound sleep,
without any sense of pain or care; and in these
short and violent deaths, the consequence that I
foresee administers more consolation to me than the
effects do fear. They say, that as life is not better
for being long, so death is better for not being long.
I do not so much avoid the thoughts of death as I
enter into confidence with it. I wrap and shrowd
myself in the storm that is to blind and hurry me
away with a sudden and insensible attack. More-
* To comprehend the author's true meaning here, the words
must be considered with regard to their necessary connexion with
what goes before. Montaigne represents himself as surrounded in
his house by a gang of banditti, who are authorized by war to com-
mit all manner of crimes with impunity. In such a situation where-
in he is always in danger of having his throat cut, and in a mortal
dread of seeing himself every moment at the mercy of those vil-
lains, he one while fancies himself actually in their hands, and feel-
ing a kind of pleasure to be at last delivered thereby on a sudden
from the continual anguish which rendered his life insupportable.
Full of these ideas he stupidly plunges himself headlong, as he says
above, into death, without taking a view of it, as into a dark and
deep vortex, which swallows him up, &c. Which is as much as to
say, that by taking his resolution he expects when he least thinks of
it, to be in that state of surprise and horror from the barbarity of
those villains who shall come to knock him on the head, or cut his
throat before he has time to look about him. The images which
Montaigne here makes use of are lively but innocent, and very
natural, and such as no judicious fair critic will, I believe, ever find
fault with.
、
I
234
OF VANITY.
over, if it should fall out (as some gardeners say of
roses and violets, that they are more odoriferous by
growing near garlick and onions, by reason that the
last suck and imbibe what bad smell there is in the
soil), that these depraved natures should also attract all
the malignity of my air and climate, and render me so
much better and purer by their vicinity, that I
should not lose all; that is not so; but there may be
something in this, that goodness is more beautiful
and attractive when it is rare, and that contrariety
and diversity binds and shuts up well-doing within
itself, and inflames it by the jealousy of opposition
and by vain-glory. Thieves and robbers (of their
special favour) have no particular spite at me; no
more have I to them: if I had, I would have my
hands too full. Consciences of the same cast are
lodged under several sorts of robes, like cruelty, trea-
chery, and rapine; and so much the worse as they are
the more mischievous, and the more secure, and the
darker by being concealed under the colour of the
laws. I do not so much hate a professed injury, as
one that is treacherous; an enemy in arms, as an
enemy in a gown. Our fever has seized upon a
body that is not much the worse for it. There was
fire before, and now it is broke out into a flame.
The noise is greater, the evil much the same. I
usually answer such as ask me the reason of my tra-
vels, "That I know very well what I fly from, but
"not what I seek." If they tell me that there may be
as little health amongst strangers, and their man-
ners are no purer than ours; I first reply, that this
is a hard case:
Tam multæ scelerum facies.
*
Where crimes in many shapes abound.
Secondly, that it is always an advantage to change an
ill condition for one that is uncertain, and that the ills
of others ought not to afflict us so much as our own.
I will not here omit, that I never rail so much
of Paris. against France, as to be out of humour with Paris;
The com-
mendation
* Virg. Georg. lib. i. ver. 506.
OF VANITY.
235
that city has ever had my heart from my infancy;
and it has fallen out to me, as of excellent things,
that the more of other fine cities I have seen since,
the more the beauty of this gains upon my affection.
I love it for its own sake, and more in its own na-
tive being, than the addition of foreign pomp; I
love it tenderly, even with all its warts and ble-
mishes. I am not a Frenchman but by this great city,
great in people, great in the felicity of her situation;
but above all, great and incomparable in variety
and diversity of commodities; the glory of France,
and one of the most noble ornaments of the world.
May God of his goodness drive our divisions far
from it. While it remains entire and united, I think
it safe from all other violence. I give it caution,
that of all the parties, that will be the worst that
shall set it at variance; I have no fears for her, but
for her own sake; and certainly I have as much fear
for her as for any other city in the kingdom. Whilst
she continues, I shall never want a retreat where I
may be safe, sufficient to make me amends for part-
ing with any other retreat whatever.
all nations
It is not because Socrates had said so, but because Montaigne
it is in truth my own humour, and perhaps too much considered
So. I look upon all men as my countrymen, and as his coun-
embrace a Polander as heartily as a Frenchman, pre- trymen.
ferring the universal and common tie, to this na-
tional tie. I am not much taken with the sweetness
of a native air: acquaintance wholly new, and
wholly my own, appear to me full as good as the
other common and accidental ones with our neigh-
bours. Friendships that are purely of our own ac-
quiring, ordinarily surpass those to which we are
joined by the communication of the clime or of
blood. Nature has placed us in the world free and
unbound; we confine ourselves to certain limits,
like the kings of Persia, who obliged themselves to
drink no other water but that of the river Choaspes,
foolishly quit claim to their right of usage in all
other streams; and as far as concerned themselves,
dried up
all the other rivers of the world. What So-
236
OF VANITY.
The advan-
which
crates did towards the end, to look upon a sentence
of banishment, as worse than a sentence of death
against him, I shall, I think, never be such an old
fool, or so strictly bigotted to my own country, as
to be of that opinion. Such celestial lives as his
have many ideas, which I embrace more by esteem
than affection; and they have some also so elevated
and extraordinary, that I cannot embrace them so
much as by esteem, because I cannot conceive
them. This humour was very effeminate in a man
that thought the whole world his city. It is true,
that he disdained travel, and had hardly ever set his
foot out of the Attic territories. What say you to
his grudging the money his friends offered to save
his life, and his refusal to come out of prison by the
mediation of others, because he would not disobey
the laws, at a time when they were otherwise so
much corrupted? These examples are of the first
rate for me; of the second there are others that I
could find out in this same person. Many of these
rare examples surpass the force of my action; nay some
of them likewise surpass the force of my judgment.
These reasons set aside, travel is in my opinion a
tages profitable exercise; the soul is therein continually
Montaigne employed in observing things new and unknown.
reaped by And I do not know, as I have often said, a better

travel,
school wherein to form life, than by incessantly expo-
sing to it the diversity of so many other lives, fancies,
usages; and to make it relish so perpetual a variety
of the forms of human nature. The body is therein
neither idle nor overwrought, and this moderate mo-
tion puts it in breath. I can keep on horseback, as
much tormented with the stone as I am, without alight-
ing or being weary, for eight or ten hours together.
Vires ultra sortemque senectæ.*
Beyond the strength and common lot of age.
No weather hurts me, but by the parching heat of a
scorching sun; for the umbrellas made use of in
* Virg. Æneid. lib. vi. ver. 114.
OF VANITY.
237
Italy, ever since the time of the ancient Romans,
are a greater burden to the arm than a relief to the
head. I would fain know where was the industry of
the Persians so long ago, and in the infancy of their
luxury, to make such ventilators, and plant such
shades about their abodes, as Xenophon reports they
did. I love rain, and to dabble in the dirt, like the
ducks; the change of air and climate never concern
me: every sky is alike to me. I am only troubled with
inward ailments, which I breed within myself, and
those are not so frequent in travel. I am hard to be
got out, but when once upon the road, I hold out as
well as the best. I take as much pains in little as in
great undertakings; and to equip myself for a short
journey, if but to visit a neighbour, as for a long
one. I have learned to travel after the Spanish
fashion, and to make but one stage of tolerable
length; and in excessive heats, I always travel by
night, from sun-set to sun-rising. The other method
of baiting by the way, in haste and hurry to gobble
up a dinner, is, especially in short days, very incon-
venient. My horses thereby perform the better, for
never any horse tired under me, that was able to
hold out the first day's journey: I water them at
every brook I meet, and only take care they have so
much way to go before I come to my inn, as will di-
gest the water in their bellies. My being so loth
to rise in a morning, gives my servants leisure to
dine at their ease before they set out. For my own
part, I never eat too late; my appetite comes to me
in eating, and not else, and am never hungry but at
table.
5
4
Unjustly
But blamed for
when old
Some of my friends blame me for continuing this
travelling humour, being married and old.
they are in the wrong; for it is the best time for a
man to leave his family, when he has put it into a
way of subsisting without him, and continuing as he
left it. It is indeed much greater imprudence to
abandon it to a less faithful housekeeper, and one
who will be less solicitous to look after your..
affairs.
travelling
and mar-
ried
238
OF VANITY.
The most
useful and
honour-
mother of a
family.
The most useful and honourable knowledge and
the most employment for the mother of a family, is the ma
able ac- nagement of household affairs. I see some that are
complish- covetous indeed, but very few that are saving. It
ment of a is the supreme quality of a woman, and what the
man ought to seek after before any other, as the
only dowry that tends to ruin or to preserve our fa
milies. Let men say what they will, according to the
experience I have learned, I require in married
women the economical virtue above all other vir
tues; I put my wife to it, as a concern of her own,
leaving her by my absence the whole government of
my affairs. I am ashamed to see, in several fami
lies, the master of which has been bustling about all
morning, I am sorry to see him return at noon quite
jaded and ruffled to find his madam just got out of
her bed, and dressing herself at the toilet. This is
for queens to do, it would be improper even in them.
It is ridiculous, and unjust, that the laziness of our
wives should be maintained with our own sweat and
labour. No man, as far as I can, shall have a
clearer and a more quiet and free enjoyment of his
estate than I. If the husband furnish matter, nature
herself requires that the wife find the form.
The conju-
gal friend-
As to the duties of conjugal friendship, which
ship grows some think to be cooled by this absence, I am not
absence of that opinion; it is on the contrary an intelligence
that easily cools, and is hurt by a too close and con-
stant attendance. Every strange woman appears
graceful, and every one finds, by experience, that
being continually together is not so pleasing, as to
part for a time, and meet again. These interrup-
tions give me a fresh gust to enjoy my family, and
render my own house more pleasant to me. Change
of place warms my appetite, now to one then to the
other. I know that the arms of friendship are long
enough to reach and join hands from the one end of
the world to the other, especially when there is a
continual communication of offices that rouse the
obligation and remembrance of it. The Stoics
say,
1
OF VANITY,
239
that there is so great a connection and relation
amongst wise men, that he who dines in France,
feeds his companion in Egypt; and that whoever
but holds out his finger, in what part of the world
soever, all the wise men upon the habitable earth
feel themselves assisted by it. Fruition and posses-
sion principally appertain to the imagination; and
this more fervently and constantly embraces what it
is in quest of, than what we have hold of. Let a
man but consider his daily amusements, and he will
find, that he is most absent from his friend when in
his company.
His presence releases your attention,
and gives your thoughts liberty to absent themselves
at every turn, for every occasion. When I am at
Rome, I keep and govern my house, and the con-
veniences I there left, see my walls rise, my trees
shoot, and my revenue increase or decrease, very
near as well as when I am there:
Ante oculos errat domus, errat forma locorum.*
Still fondly I behold, with fancy's eye,
My house and places that around it lie.
If we enjoy nothing but what we touch, we may say
farewel to the money in our closets, and to our sons
when they are gone a hunting. We will have them
nearer to us. Is the garden, or half a day's journey
from home so far? What is ten leagues, far or near?
If near, what is eleven, twelve, or thirteen? and so
on by degrees. In earnest, if there be a woman
who can tell her husband what step ends the near,
and what step begins the remote, I would advise her
to stop between the two:
Excludat jurgia finis.
Some certain point should finish the debate.
Utor permisso, caudæque pilos ut equinæ
Paulatim vello: et demo unum, demo etiam unum
Dum cadat elusus ratione ruentis acervi.†
* Ovid. Trist. lib. iii. eleg. 4.
+ Horat. lib. ii. ep. i. ver. 38, 45.
;
240
OF VANITY.
66
I take the grant, and by degrees prevail;
Thus, hair by hair, I pluck the horse's tail,
And while I take them one by one away
The numbers to a nought at last decay.
?
•
Let them in God's name call philosophy to their
assistance; in whose teeth it may be cast, that since
it neither discerns the one nor the other end of the
joint between the too much and the little, the long
and the short, the light and the heavy, the near and
the remote; and since it discovers neither the be-
ginning nor the end, it must needs judge very un-
certainly of the middle: Rerum natura nullam nobis
dedit cognitionem finium :* “ Nature has not given.
us any knowledge of the end of things." Are.
they not still wives and friends to the dead, who
are not only at the end of this, but in the other
world? We include those who have been, and those
who are not yet, much more the absent. We did
not promise in marriage to be continually brooding
and twining together, like some little animals that
we see, or tied like those of Karanti,t that were so
bewitched in the conjunctive mood, that they clung
together ever after like the canine race. And a wife
ought not so greedily to fix her eyes on her husband's
fore-parts, that she cannot endure to see him turn his
back, if occasion be. But may not this saying of that
* Cic. Acad. lib. iv. cap. 29.
It is Saxo Grammaticus that has left us the story of these hag-
ridden creatures, in the 14th book of his History of Denmark;
where, speaking of the conversion of the people of Rugen, an island
in the Baltic, he says, that the inhabitants of Karanti, or Kerantia,
one of their towns, after having renounced their worship of idols,
were nevertheless still afraid of their power, remembering how often
they had been punished for their lewdness, when both sexes were
tied together in the action after the manner of dogs, and even fas-
ter. Sometimes when they were taken in the fact they were, for
the diversion of the people, hoisted upon a perch, the man on one
side, and the woman on the other, without being able to separate.
If this fact was true, one could hardly help inferring, that the devil
was at that time much more severe or more mischievous than he is
now.
3
OF VANITY,
241
excellent painter of women's humours be here intro-
duced, to show the reasons of their complaints?
Uxor, si cesses, aut te amare cogitat,
Aut tete amari, aut potare, aut animo obsequi.
Et tibi bene esse soli, cum sibi sit male.*
Thy wife, if thou stay'st long abroad, is mov'd,
Thinking thou either lov'st, or art belov'd;
Drinking, or something else, thyself to please,
And that thou'rt well, whilst she is ill at ease.
Or
may it not be, that of itself opposition and con-
tradiction entertains and nourishes them, and that
they sufficiently accommodate themselves, provided
they incommode you?
ship.
sence of a
In true friendship, wherein I am expert, I give The aim of
myself more to my friend, than I attract him to me. true friend-
I am not only better pleased in doing him service,
than if he did me one; but, likewise, had rather he
would do himself good than me, and he most serves
me when he does so. And if absence be either plea- The utility
sant or convenient for him, it is more acceptable to of the ab-
me than his presence; neither is it properly absence, friend.
when there are means of corresponding. I have
sometimes made good use of our separation. We
better filled, and farther extended the possession of
life in being parted. He lived, rejoiced, and saw for
me, and I for him, as plainly as if he had himself
been there; one part remained idle, and we con-
founded one another when we were together. The
distance of place rendered the conjunction of our
wills more rich. This insatiable desire of personal
presence, implies some weakness in the fruition of
souls.

ought to
As for old age, which is alleged against me, it Whether
is for youth on the contrary to subject itself to the old age
common opinions, and to curb itself for the sake of hinder us
others. It has wherewith to please both the people velling
and itself; we have but too much ado to please our-
selves alone. As natural conveniences fail us, let us
VOL. III.
* Ter. Adel. act. i. scen. 1. ver. 7, &c.
R
from tra-
242
OF VANITY.
1
}
support ourselves with those that are artificial. It is
injustice to excuse youth for pursuing its pleasures,
and to forbid old men to seek them. When
When young,
I concealed my wanton passions with prudence;
now I am old, I get rid of melancholy ones by a
debauch.* Sure it is that the Platonic laws forbad
travel till forty or fifty years old, that it might be
more useful and instructive at so mature an age. I
would sooner subscribe to this other second ar-
ticle of the same laws, which forbids it after
threescore; for at such an age you will never
return from a long journey. What care I for that?
I undertake it neither to return nor to finish it. I
do it only to keep myself in motion whilst motion
pleases me, and only walk for the walk's sake. They
who hunt after a benefice, or a hare, run not; they
only run who run at prison-base, and to exercise
their running. My design is divisible throughout, it
is not grounded upon any great hopes; every day
concludes my expectation. The journey of my life is
carried on after the same manner; and yet I have
seen places enough far off, where I could have wish-
ed to have been detained. And why not, if Chry-
sippus, Cleanthes, Diogenes, Zeno, Antipater, so
many sages of the sourest sect,t cheerfully aban-
doned their country, without occasion to complain
* If that be, as I really think, Montaigne's sentiment, the word
debauch must be taken in a moderate sense, and such as is suitable
to Montaigne's genius and character, and to the subject he here
treats of, that is to say, to his passion for travel, which he is pleased
to term a debauch, by an excursion which is very common to him.
There is scarce any writer who has more need than Montaigne of
a judicious reader, and one especially that is fair and candid. His
style, which abounds with bold expressions and figures, is very
likely to deceive a cavilling censor, or to give a handle to those
ill-natured critics who, without regard to truth, boldly censure the
most innocent expressions, when they think they can represent them
to other persons in a criminal light.
+ Chrysippus was of Soles, Cleanthes of Assos, Diogenes of Ba-
bylon, Zeno of Citium in the isle of Cyprus, Antipater of Tarsus,
all Stoic philosophers, who passed their lives at Athens, as Plutarch
has observed in his Treatise of Banishment, chap. 12.
OF VANITY.
243
of it, and only for the enjoyment of another air? In
earnest, that which most displeases me in all
my tra-
vels, is, that I cannot resolve to settle my abode
where I best like, but that I must always propose
to myself to return, to accommodate myself to the
common humours.
ent as it
where he
to die a-
at home;
If I feared to die in any other place than that of As indiffer-
my birth; if I thought I should die more uneasily re- was to
mote from my own family, I would hardly go out of Montaigne
France; I would not without fear step out of my died, he
parish; for I feel death always twitching me by the preferred
throat, or by the back: but I am of another temper; broad ra
death is in all places alike to me; yet might I have ther than
my choice, I think I would rather choose to die on and why.
horseback than in bed, out of my own house, and
far enough from my own people. There is more
heart-breaking than consolation in taking leave of
one's friends; I am willing to omit this act of civi-
lity; for, of all the offices of friendship, that is the
only one that is unpleasant; and I could with
all my heart forget to bid this great and eternal fare-
wel. If there be any convenience in so many stan-
ders-by, it produces a hundred inconveniences. I
have seen many miserably dying, surrounded with
all this train: it is a crowd that chokes them. It is
against duty, and a testimony of little kindness, and
little care, to permit you to die in quiet; one tor-
ments your eyes, another afflicts your ears, another
tires your faltering tongue; you have neither sense
nor limb that is not battered and bruised by them:
your heart melts with pity to hear the lamentation
of those that are your real friends, and perhaps with
vexation, to hear the bewailings of others that are
feigned and counterfeit. Whoever has been delicate
in his taste when well, is much more so in his
weakness. In such a necessity a gentle hand is re-
quired, and suitable to his sentiments, to scratch
him just in the place where he itches, or not to med-
dle with him at all. As we stood in need of a know-
}
R 2
244
OF VANITY.
The eyes
of dying
persons
closed by
their near-
est rela-
tions.
ing woman* to bring us into the world, we have
much more need of a wiser man to help us out of
it. Such a one, and a friend to boot, a man ought
to purchase at any rate for such an occasion. I am
not yet arrived at such a pitch of bravery and self-
sufficiency, as to disdain all assistance, or defy all
trouble in that hour. I endeavour to hide myself,
and to make my exit by stealth, not through fear,
but by art. I do not intend in this act of dying to
give proof, and make a show of my constancy. For
whom should I do it? All the right and title I have
to reputation will then cease. I content myself with
a death collected within itself, quiet, solitary, and
all my own, suitable to my retired and private life.
Quite contrary to the Roman superstition, where a
man was looked upon as unhappy, who died without
speaking, and that had not his nearest relations to
close his eyes. I have enough to do to comfort my-
self, without the trouble of consoling others; too
many thoughts in my head, to need that circum-
stances should possess me with new; and matter
enough to entertain myself without borrowing.
This critical minute is out of the share of society; it
is the act of one single person. Let us live, and be
merry amongst our friends, let us go among stran-
gers to repine and die. A man may find those for
his money that will shift his pillow, and rub his feet,
and trouble him no more than he would have them
;
who will present him with an indifferent counte-
nance, and suffer him to govern himself, and to
complain according to his own method. I wean
myself daily by my reason from this childish and in-
humane humour, of desiring by our sufferings to
move the compassion and mourning of our friends.
We stretch our inconveniences beyond their
just extent when we extract tears from them,
and the constancy in which we commend every
* Viz. a midwife, called in French sage femme.
OF VANITY.
245
one who supports his
own adverse fortune,
we accuse and reproach in our friends when the
case is our own; we are not satisfied that they
be only sensible of our condition, unless they
be also afflicted. A man should extend his joy,
but, as much as he can, contract his grief: he
that makes himself lamented without reason,
is a man not to be lamented when there shall
be real cause. To be always complaining, is the
way never to be lamented; and he who too often
calls for pity, is never commiserated by any. He
that feigns himself dying when he is alive, is subject
to be thought likely to live when he is dying. I
have seen some, who have taken it in a dudgeon
when they have been told that they looked well, and
that their pulse was regular, who refrained laughter,
because it betrayed a recovery, and hated health,
because it was not to be lamented: and, which is
much worse, they were not women neither. I des- Mourning
cribe my infirmities but such as they really are, at very impro-
most, and avoid all ominous expressions and formal sick per-
exclamations. If not mirth, at least a sedate coun- sons.
tenance in the standers-by, is proper in the presence
of a wise sick man. He does not quarrel with health,
for seeing himself in a contrary condition. He is
pleased to contemplate it sound and entire in others,
and to enjoy it at least for company. He does not,
because he feels himself melt away, abandon all
thoughts of life, nor avoid common conversation.
I am inclinable to study sickness whilst I am well;
when it has seized me it will make its impression
real enough, without the help of my imagination.
We prepare ourselves before-hand for the journey we
undertake and resolve upon; we leave the appoint-
ment of the hour, when to take horse, to the com-
pany, and in their favour defer it. I find this unex-
pected advantage in the publication of my manners,
that it in some sort serves me for a rule. I have
sometimes some consideration of not betraying the
history of my life. This public declaration obliges
per about
246
OF VANITY.
me to keep on my way, and not to give the lie to
the image I have drawn of my qualities, commonly
less deformed and contradicted than the malignity
and infirmity of the judgments of this age would
have them. The uniformity and simplicity of my
manners produce a face of easy interpretation, but
because the fashion is a little new, and unaccustom-
ed, it gives great opportunity to slander. Yet so it
is, that whoever will go about justly to injure me, I
do think I so assist his malice by my known and
avowed imperfections, that he may that way glut his
ill-nature, without skirmishing with the wind. If I
myself, to prevent the accusation and discovery,
confess enough to make his satire toothless, as he
conceives, he is welcome to make use of his right
of amplification, and extension (offence has its rights
beyond justice); and let him make the roots of those
vices I have laid open to him shoot up into trees:
let him make his use, not only of those I am really
infected with, but also of those that only threaten
me; injurious vices both in quality and number.
Let him cudgel me that way. I would willingly fol-
low the example of the philosopher Bion.* Antigo-
nus being about to reproach him with the meanness
of his birth, he presently cut him short, with this
declaration,t" I am," said he, "the son of a slave,
"a butcher, and stigmatised, and of a whore my
"father married in the lowest of his fortune, who
"both of them were chastised for some misdemea-
CC nor. An orator bought me, when a child, and
"finding me a pretty and a forward boy, bred
"me up, and when he died left me all his estate,
" which I have brought into this city of Athens,
"and here settled myself to the study of philoso-
"phy." Let the historians never trouble them-
selves with inquiring after me. I shall tell them
what I am; a free and generous confession enervates
* Not Dion, as it is in all the editions of Montaigne, as well as
Mr. Cotton's translation.
+ Diogenes Laertius, in the Life of Bion, lib. iv. sect. 46,
OF VANITY.
247
reproach, and disarms slander. So it is, that all
things considered, I fancy men as oft commend as un-
dervalue me beyond reason. And methinks also,
from my infancy, they have given me a place, in
rank and degree of honour, rather above than below
my right. I would find myself more at ease in a
country where these degrees were either regulated
or not regarded. Amongst men, when the dif
ference about the precedency either of walking
or sitting exceeds three replies, it is reputed un-
civil. I never stick at giving or taking place out of
rule, to avoid the trouble of ceremony. And never
denied precedency to any man who affected it. Be-
sides this profit I reap from writing of myself, I have
also hoped for this other advantage, that if it fall
out that my humour please, or jump with that of
some honest man, before I die, he would then de-
sire and seek to be acquainted with me. I have
given him a great deal of space; for all that he
could have in many years acquired by a long ac-
quaintance and familiarity, he has seen in three
days in this register, and more surely and exactly
set down. A pleasant fancy: many things that I
would not confess to any one in particular, I deliver
to the public; and refer my best friends to a book-
seller's shop, to know what are my most secret at-
tainments and thoughts:
Excutienda damus præcordia.*
Fain would the muse lay open to thy test
Each latent thought, each winding of my breast.
Had I by such plain tokens known where to have
sought for any one proper for my conversation, I
would certainly have gone a great way to find him:
for the sweetness of suitable and agreeable com-
pany cannot, in my opinion, be bought too dear.
Oh! what a rare thing is a friend! How true is that How use-
old saying, "That the use of a friend is more plea- cessary a
"sing and necessary than the elements of water and friend is.
* Pers. sat. v. ver. 22.
ful and ne-
248
OF VANITY.
"fire!" To return to my subject; there is then no
great harm in dying privately, and far from home.
And we think it a duty to retire for natural actions
not so disagreeable nor terrible as this. But besides
such as are reduced to spin out a long languishing
life, ought not perhaps to wish to encumber a great
family with their continual miseries. Therefore the
Indians, in a certain province, thought it just to dis-
patch a man, when reduced to such necessity: and
in another of their provinces they all forsook him,
to shift for himself as well as he could. To whom
do they not at least become irksome, tedious, and
insupportable? You teach your best friends to
be cruel in spite of them; hardening women and
children by long usage, neither to lament, nor to
regard your sufferings. The groans extorted from
me by the stone, are not now regarded by any-body.
And though we should extract some pleasure from
their conversation (which does not always happen,
by reason of the disparity of conditions, which easily
begets contempt or envy toward any one whatever),
is it not too much to be troublesome all the days of
a man's life? The more I should see them strain out
of real affection to be serviceable to me, the more I
should be sorry for their pains. We are allowed to
lean, but not to lay our whole weight upon others,
so as to prop ourselves by their ruin. Like him who
caused little children's throats to be cut, to make
use of their blood for the cure of a certain disease
he had or that other, who was continually supplied
with tender young girls, to keep his old limbs warm
in the night, and to mix the sweetness of theirs
with his sour and stinking breath. Decrepit old
age is a solitary quality. I am sociable even to ex-
cess; yet I think it reasonable that I should now
withdraw my ailments from the sight of the world,
and keep them to myself. Let me shrink and draw
up myself like a tortoise. I learn to visit men with-
out hanging upon them: I would endanger them
in so steep a passage. It is now time to turn my
back to company.
ÖF VANITY.
249
prepara-
a view to
death.
But in these travels you may be surprised with Mon-
sickness in some wretched cot or hovel, where no- taigne's
thing can be had to relieve you: I always carry most tions with
things necessary with me; and besides, we cannot det
evade fortune, or escape fate, if it once resolve to
attack us. I need nothing extraordinary when I am
sick. I will not be beholden to my bolus to do that
for me which nature cannot. At the very beginning
of my fevers and sicknesses that cast me down,
whilst I am yet entire, and but little disordered in
my health, I reconcile myself to God by the last
christian offices, and find myself by so doing more
free and easy, and have got methinks so much the
better of my disease. I have still less need of a
scrivener or counsellor, than of a physician. What
I have not settled of my affairs when I was in health,
let no one expect I will do when I am sick. Death
is what I am ever prepared for. I durst not so much
as defer it one day. And if nothing be done, it is
as much as to say, either that doubt delayed my
choice (and sometimes it is well chosen not to
choose), or that I was positively resolved not to do
any thing at all. I write my book for few men, and
for few years. Had it been a matter of duration, it
should have been put into a more durable language;
for according to the continual variation that ours
has to this day been subject to, who can expect that
the present style should be in use fifty years hence?
It slips every day through our fingers, and since I was
born is altered one half. We say that it is now perfect;
and every age says the same of the language then
spoken: but I shall hardly trust to that, so long as it
varies and changes as it does.* It is for good and useful
* There are in Montaigne so many solid thoughts, and so agree-
ably expressed, paintings so just, lively, and natural, that his book
will be read and regarded as long as the French language shall last,
how different soever be the turn of it from what it had in his time;
which, though it be already so different, the essays have lost no-
thing of their former credit with men of a good taste, who love
study, and to make an advantage of the discoveries to which they
250
OF VANITY.
writings to rivet it to them, and its reputation will
rise or fall with the fortune of our state. For which
reason, I am not afraid to insert in it several private
articles, which will spend their use amongst the men
that are now living, and that concern the particular
knowledge of some who will see farther into them
than every common reader. I will not after all, as
I oft hear dead men's memories worried, that men
should say of me, "He judged and lived so and so:
" he would have done this or that; could he have
"spoken when he was dying, he would have said so
"or so, and have given this thing or the other? I
"knew him better than any." Now, as much as de-
cency permits, I here discover my inclinations and
affections; but I do it more willingly and freely by
word of mouth, to any one who desires to be inform-
ed. So it is, that in these memoirs, if any observe,
he will find, that I have either told, or designed to
tell all. What I cannot express, I point out with
my finger :
Verum animo satis hæc vestigia parva sagaci
Sunt, per quæ possis cognoscere cætera tute.*
But by these foot-steps a sagacious mind
May certainly all other matters find.
I leave nothing to be desired, or to be guessed at
concerning me. If people must be talking of me,
I would have it to be justly and truly. I would
come again with all my heart from the other
world, to give any one the lie that should report me
other than I was, though he did it to honour me.
I perceive that people represent, even living men,
quite another thing than what they really are: and
had I not stoutly defended a friend, whom I have
lost, they would have represented him to me in a
thousand contrary shapes.
To conclude the account of my frail humours, I
are naturally led by such study. This will be an inexhaustible
source, from which they will always draw with pleasure.
* Lucret. lib, i. ver. 403.
OF VANITY.
251
of death re-
lished
do confess, that in my travel, I seldom come to my What kind
quarters, but it runs in my mind whether I could heart.
like to be sick, and die there; I wish to be lodged
in some private part of the house, remote from all
noise and nastiness, not smoky, nor close. I aim
to sooth death by these frivolous circumstances; or
to say better to discharge myself from all other in-
cumbrances, that I may have nothing to do, but
to wait for an event which will be enough to weigh
me down without any other load. I would have my
death share with my life in ease and convenience; it
is a great lump of it, and of importance, and hope
it will not now contradict what is past. Death has
some forms that are more easy than others, and as-
sumes divers qualities, according to every one's
fancy. Amongst the natural deaths, those that
pro-
ceed from weakness and a stupor, I think the most
favourable amongst those that are violent, I dread
a precipice worse than the fall of ruins, that would
crush me in a moment; and think worse to be killed
by a sword than to be shot: I would rather have
chosen to poison myself with Socrates, than stab
myself with Cato. And though it be the same thing,
yet my imagination makes as wide a difference as
between death and life, to throw myself into a fiery
furnace, or plunge into the channel of a smooth
river: so idly does our fear more concern itself for
the means than the effect. It is but a moment it is
true, but a moment of such weight, that I would
willingly give many days of my life to shoot the
gulf after my own way. Since every one's imagina-
tion renders it more or less terrible, and since every
one has some choice amongst the several forms of
dying, let us try a little farther, to find some one
that is wholly clear from all irksomeness. Might
not one render it even pleasant, as they did who
were companions in death with Antony and Cleo-
patra? I set aside the severe and exemplary efforts
*
* Plutarch, in the Life of Mark Antony, chap. 15.
9
252
OF VANITY.
produced by philosophy and religion. But amongst
men of low rank, such as a Petronius,* and a Tigilli-
nust at Rome, there have been found men condemn-
ed to dispatch themselves, who have as it were lulled
death asleep with the delicacy of their preparations;
they have made it slip and steal away, even in the
height of their accustomed diversions, amongst
whores and good fellows. There is not a word of
consolation, no mention of making a will, no ambi-
tious affectation of constancy, no talk of their future
state, amongst sports, feasts, wit, and mirth, table-
talk, music, and amorous verses. Is it not possible
for us to imitate this resolution after a more decent
manner? Since there are deaths that are fit for fools,
and fit for the wise, let us find out such as are fit for
those who are between both. My imagination sug-
gests to me one that is easy, and since we must die,
one that is also to be desired. The Roman tyrants
ner of dy- thought they did in a manner give a criminal life,
the choice when they gave him the choice of his death. But
was not Theophrastus, that philosopher, so delicate,
so modest, and so wise, compelled by reason, when
he durst repeat this verse translated by Cicero?
Vitam regit fortuna, non sapientia.‡
The man-
ing left to
of crimi-
nals by the
tyrants.
Fortune, not wisdom, governs human life.
Fortune is assisting to the facility of the progress of
my life, having placed it in such a condition that
for the future it can be no advantage nor hindrance
to me. It is a condition that I would have accepted
at any stage of my life: but now that I am packing
up my baggage, and marching off, I am particularly
pleased, that in dying I shall neither have them
merry, nor sorry; she has so ordered it by a cun-
ning compensation, that they who may pretend to
any considerable advantage by my death, will at the
same time sustain a material inconvenience. Death
Tacit. Annal. lib. xvi. cap. 19. + Tacit. Hist. lib. i. cap. 71.
‡ Cic. Tusc. lib. v. cap. 9.
OF VANITY.
253
sometimes is more grievous to us, in that it is griev-
ous to others, and interests us in their interest as
much as in our own, and sometimes more.
ling.
In this convenience of quarters which I desire, I His method
am for nothing pompous and sumptuous, I hate it of travel-
rather; but am for a certain plain neatness, which
is often found in places where there is less of art,
and which nature has adorned with some grace that
is altogether her own. Non ampliter, sed munditer
convivium; plus salis quam sumptus:* "I love a feast
"that is elegant rather than abundant, in which
"there is more savour than superfluity." As for
those whose affairs compel them to travel in the win-
ter season through the Grisons' country, they must
expect to be reduced to extremity upon the road. I,
who for the most part travel for my pleasure, do not
order my affairs so ill. If the way be foul on my
right-hand, I turn on my left; if I find myself un-
fit to ride, I stay where I am: and really when I do
so, I see nothing that is not as pleasant and com-
modious as my own house. It is true, that I always
think superfluity superfluous, and observe a kind of
trouble even in delicacy and abundance. Have I
left any thing behind me unseen, I go back to see
it; I am never out of my way. I trace no certain
line, either straight or crooked. If I do not find in
the place to which I go what was reported to me,
as it oft falls out that the judgments of others do not
jump with mine, and that I have found them for the
most part wrong, I never complain of losing my
labour: I have at least informed myself that what
they told me was not there. I have a constitution
of body as free, and a palate as indifferent as any
man living.
?
modated
The different fashions of several nations no farther He accom-
concern me than the mere pleasure of variety. himself to
Every usage has its reason. Be the plate and dishes the differ-
pewter, wood, or earth, my meat boiled or roasted,
* Corn. Nepos, in Vita Pompon. Attic. cap. 13.
و
ent man-
ners and
254
OF VANITY.
countries
he saw.
customs of let them give me butter or oil, nuts or olives, hot
the several or cold, it is all one to me: and it is so indifferent,
that, growing old, I accuse this generous faculty,
and have need that delicacy and choice should cor-
rect the indiscretion of my appetite, and sometimes
relieve my stomach. When I have been abroad out
of France, and the people in civility have asked me,
if I would be served after the French manner, I
laughed at the question, and always frequented ta-
bles the most filled with strangers. I am ashamed
to see my countrymen besotted with this foolish hu-
mour of quarrelling with forms contrary to their own.
They seem to be out of their element, when out of
their own village. Wherever they go, they keep
strictly to their own fashions, and abominate those of
foreigners. If they meet with one of their own coun-
try in Hungary, they hail the happy day. They
renew their acquaintance, they cling together, and
rail at the barbarous manners they see there. And
why not barbarous, since they are not French? And
those are reckoned to have made the best use of
their travels, who rail most at what they have seen;
and indeed most of them return no wiser than they
went. In their travels very close and reserved, with
a silent and incommunicable prudence, preserving
themselves from the contagion of an unknown air.
What I am saying of them, puts me in mind of some-
thing like it, which I have sometimes observed in
some of our young courtiers, who will not mix with
any but those of their own class; and look upon us
as men of another world, with disdain or pity. Put
them upon any discourse but the intrigues of the
court, and they are utterly at a loss; as very block-
heads and novices to us, as we are to them. And
it is truly said, that a well-bred man is of a compound.
education. I, on the contrary, travel, very much
sated with our own fashions; not to look for Gas-
cons in Sicily, I have left enough of them at home:
I rather seek for Greeks and Persians; they are the
men I want to be acquainted with, and the men I

OF VANITY.
255
study; it is with them that I bestow and employ
myself: and, which is more, I fancy that I have met
but with few customs that are not as good as our
own. I have not, I confess, travelled very far; scarce
out of the sight of the fanes of my own house!
company
As to the rest, most of the accidental company a He seldom
man falls into upon the road, give him more trouble joined
than pleasure; I wave them as much as I civilly upon the
can, especially now that age seems in some sort to road.
privilege and sequester me from the common forms.
You suffer for others, or others suffer for you; both
of them inconveniences of importance enough, but
the latter appears to me the greater.
relief in
It is a rare fortune, but of inestimable solace, to Worthy
have a worthy man, one of a sound judgment, and men a great
of a temper conformable to your own, who takes a travel.
delight to bear you company. I have been at a very
great loss for one in all my travels. But such a
companion should be chosen, and taken with you
from your first setting out. There can be no plea-
sure to me without communication: there is not so
much as a sprightly thought comes into my mind,
which it does not grieve me to have produced alone,
without one to communicate it to. Si cum hac ex-
ceptione detur sapientia, ut illam inclusam teneam,
nec enunciem, rejiciam :* "If wisdom were confer-
"red with this condition, that I must keep it to
et
myself, and not communicate it to others, I would
"refuse it." This other has strained it one note
higher: Si contigerit ea vita sapienti, ut omnium
rerum affluentibus copiis, quamvis omnia, quæ cogni-
tione digna sunt, summo otio secum ipse consideret,
contempletur, tamen si solitudo tanta sit, ut hominem
videre non possit, excedat è vita: "If such a condi-
"tion of life should happen to a wise man, that
"in the greatest plenty of all conveniences, he
might at the most undisturbed leisure, consider
"and contemplate all things worth the knowing,
66
* Senec. epist. 6.
† Cicero de Offic. lib. i. cap. 43.
256
OF VANITY.
Arguments
ing Mon-
taigne's
travel,
66
"yet if his solitude must be such that he must not
see a man, he had much better quit life."* I ap-
prove of Architas's opinion, when he said, that it
would be unpleasant, even in heaven itself, to sur-
vey the glory of those great and divine celestial bo-
dies without a companion. But yet it is much bet-
ter to be alone, than in foolish and troublesome
company. Aristippus loved to live as a stranger in
all places:
Mea si fata meis paterentur ducere vitam
Auspiciis.+
But if the fates would so propitious be,
To let me live at my own liberty;
I should choose to pass away the greatest part of my
life on horseback:
66
Visere gestiens,
Qua parte debacchentur ignes
Qua nebulæ pluviique rores,‡
To view the stores of snow and hail,
And where excessive heats prevail.
"But it may be asked, have you not more easy
for divert-diversions at home? What do you there want? Is
"not your house situated in a sweet and healthful
passion for air, sufficiently furnished, and more than suffi-
ciently large? The royal majesty has more
"than once been entertained there with all his
pomp. Are there not more below your family in
good government, than there are above it in emi-
"nence? Is there any local thought which is ex-
"traordinary, and indigestible, that afflicts you?
66
Cs
Quæ te nunc coquat, et vexet sub pectora fixa ?§
That now lies broiling in thy troubled breast,
And ne'er will suffer thee to be at rest?
"Where do you think to live without molestation
"and disturbance? Nunquam simpliciter fortuna
* Cicero de Amicitia, cap. 23.
‡ Horat. lib. iii. ode iii, ver. 54, &c.
† Æneid. lib. iv. ver. 340.
§ Cic. de Senect. ex Enn.
OF VANITY.
257
.#
"You see then, it is
indulget:* "The favours of fortune are always
"mixed with some gall.
"only you that trouble yourself, and that you every
"where follow yourself, and every where complain;
"for there is no satisfaction here below, but for souls
"that are either brutish or divine. He who, in so
66
just an occasion, has.no contentment, where will
"he think to find it? How many millions of men
"would be content to be in such a condition as
yours? Do but reform yourself; for that is
"wholly in your own power; whereas you have no
“other right, but patience towards fortune." Nulla
placida quies est, nisi quam ratio composuit :†
"There is no perfect tranquillity but what is pro-
"duced by reason."
those argu-
ments.
I see the reason of this remonstrance, and I see The an-
it perfectly well; but it would have been more la- swer to
conic, and more pertinent, to bid me in one word
be wise. This resolution is beyond wisdom, it is
her work and product. Thus the physician lies preach-
ing to a poor langushing patient to be cheerful, but
he would advise him a little more discreetly in bid-
ding him be well. For my part, I am but a man
of the common sort. It is a wholesome precept,
certain, and easy to be understood, "Be content
"with what you have;" that is to say, with reason:
and yet to follow this advice, is no more in the
power of the wisest men than in mine. It is a com-
mon saying, but of a terrible extent: what does it
not comprehend? All things fall under discretion
and qualification. I know very well that, in the li-
teral sense, this pleasure of travelling is a testimony
of uneasiness and irresolution; therefore these two
are our governing and predominant qualities.
Yes, I confess they are; I see nothing, not so
much as in a dream, and in a wish, whereon
I could set up my rest: variety only, and the pos-
session of diversity, can satisfy me, if any thing can.
* Curtius, lib. iv. cap. 14.
VOL. III.
en
+ Seneca, epist. 56.
258
OF VANITY.
In travelling, it pleases me that I may stay where I
like without inconvenience, and that I have where-
with commodiously to divert myself. I love a pri-
vate life, because it is my own choice that I love it,
not from any dislike of the public way of living,
which perhaps is as much according to my com-
plexion. I serve my prince by it more cheerfully,
because it is by the free reflection of my own judg-
ment and reason, without any particular obligation;
and that I am not compelled so to do, for being re-
jected or disliked by the other party; and so of all
the rest. I hate the morsels that necessity carves
for me.
I should think that any convenience upon
which I were only to depend, would stick in my
throat:
Alter remus aquas, alter mihi radat arenas.*
Let me in water plunge one oar,
And with the other rake the shore.
One cord will never hold me fast enough. You will
say there is a vanity in such an amusement. But
where is there not? And these fine precepts are va-
nity, and all wisdom is vanity. Dominus novit
cogitationes sapientium, quoniam vanæ sunt: "The
"Lord knoweth the thoughts of the wise that they
❝are vain." These exquisite subtleties are only
fit for the pulpit. They are discourses that will send
us all saddled into the other world. Life is a mate-
rial and corporeal motion, an action imperfect and
irregular of its own proper essence; I make it my
business to serve it according as it is:

Quisque suos patimur manes.‡
We all are punish'd for our proper crimes.
?
Sic est faciendum, ut contra naturam universam nihil
contendamus; ea tamen conservata, propriam se-
quamur :§ "We must so order it, as by no means
* Prop. lib. iii. eleg. 3, ver. 23.
+ Psalm xciv. ver. 11. 1 Corinth. ch. iii. ver. 20.
Æneid. vi. ver. 743.
$ Cic. de Offic. lib. i. cap 31.
OF VANITY.
259
"to contend against universal nature; but yet, that
"rule being observed, to conform to our own." To
what end are these sublime points of philosophy,
upon which no human being can settle, and those
rules that exceed both our use and force.
remon-
much des-
of them as
whom they
I often see that we have ideas of life set before us, Philoso-
which neither the proposer, nor those that hear phical
him, have any manner of hope, nor which is more, strances as
of inclination, to follow. Of the same sheet of pa- pised by
per, whereon the judge has but just wrote a sentence the author
against an adulterer, he steals a piece whereon to by the per-
write a love-letter to his companion's wife. She son to
with whom you had but just now an illicit com- are made.
merce, will presently, even in your own hearing, ex-
claim more loudly against the same fault in her com-
panion than a Portia. And such there are, who will
condemn men to death for crimes that they do not
themselves repute so much as faults. I have in my
youth seen a gentleman with one hand present the
people with verses that excelled both in wit and li-
centiousness, and with the other, at the same time,
the most rigid theological tenets that the world has
been teased with these many years. Men proceed
at this rate; we let the laws and precepts take their
course, ourselves keep another; not only by de-
bauchery of manners, but often by judgment and
contrary opinion. Do but hear a philosophical lec-
ture; the invention, eloquence, and pertinency im-
mediately strike your mind, and move you; there is
nothing either pricks or stings your conscience; it
is not to it that they address. Is not this true?
This made Aristo say, that neither a bath nor a lec-
ture signified any thing, unless they scoured and
made men clean.* One may stop at the outward
skin; but it is after the marrow is picked out: as
after having quaffed off the good liquor in a fine bowl,
consider the graving and workmanship. In all the
schools of ancient philosophy this is to be found,
* Plutarch, in his Treatise of Hearing, chap. 8.
·
$ 2
260
OF VANITY.
A wise
mitted to
love.
that the same philosophy-reader there publishes the
rules of temperance, and at the same time reads lec-
tures of love and wantonness. Xenophon, even in
the bosom of Clinias, wrote against the Aristippic
virtue. It is not that there is any miraculous conver-
sion in it that makes them thus wavering; but it is
as Solon represents himself, sometimes in his own
person, and sometimes in that of a legislator. One
while he speaks for the crowd, and another for him-
self: taking the free and natural rules for his own
share, assuring himself of entire health and vigour :
Curentur dubii medicis majoribus ægri.*
A desp❜rate wound must skilful hands employ.
Antisthenes allowed a wise man to be in love,t
man per and do whatever he thought convenient, without
regard to the laws; as being better advised than
they, and having a greater knowledge of virtue.‡
His disciple Diogenes said, that men to perturba-
tions were to oppose reason; to fortune, confi-
dence; and to the laws, nature. For tender sto-
machs, forced and artificial recipes must be pre-
scribed strong stomachs serve themselves simply
with the prescriptions of their own natural appetite.
After this manner do our physicians proceed, who
eat melons, and drink iced wines, whilst they con-
fine their patients to syrup and panada. I know not,
said the courtesan Lais, what they mean by their
books, their wisdom, and philosophy, but those men
knock as oft at my door as any other.
In as
much as our licentiousness always carries us beyond
what is lawful and allowed, men have often stretched
the precepts and rules of life beyond universal reason:
Nemo satis credit tantum delinquere quantum
Permittas.§
* Juven. sat. xiii. ver. 124.
1
+ Diog. Laert. in the Life of Antisthenes. lib. vi. sect. Ï1.
‡ Idem, in the Life of Diogenes, lib. vi. sect. 38.
₫ Juven. sat. xiv. ver. 233.
OF VANITY.
261
1
The wretched sinner always is in quest
Of crimes unpractis'd, pleasures unpossess❜d.
It is to be wished, that there were more proportion
between the command and the obedience, and the
mark seems to be unjust to which one cannot at-
tain. There is no man so good, but, if he measure
all his thoughts and actions by the laws, he will find
he has deserved hanging ten times in his life; and
at the same time it might be great pity and very
unjust to punish and ruin him:
Olle, quid ad te
De cute quid faciat ille vel illa sua ?
Ollus, what matters it to thee
What with their skin does he or she?
*
And such a one there may be, as has no way of
fended the laws, who nevertheless would not deserve
the character of a virtuous man, and whom philo-
sophy would justly condemn to be whipped; so un-
equal and perplexed is this relation. We are so far
from being good men, according to the laws of God,
that we cannot be so according to our own.
Hu-
man wisdom could never yet arrive at the duties it
had prescribed to itself; and could it arrive thereto,
it would prescribe to itself others beyond it, to
which it would ever aspire and pretend: so great an
enemy to consistency is our human condition. Man
enjoins himself to be necessarily in fault. He is not
very discreet to cut out his own duty by the measure
of any other being than his own. To whom does he
prescribe that which he does not expect any one
can perform? Is he unjust in not doing what is im-
possible for him to do? The laws, by whose sen-
tence we are not able, condemn us for not being
able.
after taigne is
may more ex-
obliged to
At the worst this disagreeable liberty of present- Mon-
ing themselves two several ways, the actions
one manner, and the discourses after another,
be allowed to those who speak of things; but it can- than those
* Mart. lib. vii. ep. 9, ver. 1, 2.
actness
262
OF VANITY.
who so
much
preach up
virtue, in
ter he at-
tempts to
the charac-
draw of
himself.
He was
unfit for
the ma-
not be allowed to those who speak of themselves, as
I do. I must march my pen as I do my feet. The
common life ought to have a relation to other lives.
The virtue of Cato was vigorous beyond the reason
of the age he lived in, and for a man who undertook
to govern others; as being devoted to the public
service, this might be called justice, if not unjust, at
least vain, and out of season. Even my own man-
ners, which differ scarce an inch from those that are
current amongst us, yet render me at my age a little
rough and unsociable. I know not whether it be
without reason that I am disgusted with the com-
pany I frequent; but I know very well that it would
be without reason, should I complain of its being
disgusted with me, seeing I am so with it. The vir
tue that is assigned to the affairs of the world, is a
virtue of many wavings, corners, and elbows, to join
and adapt itself to human frailty; a virtue mixed
and artificial; not strait, clean, constant, nor purely
innocent. Our annals to this very day reproach one
of our kings for suffering himself simply to be
carried away by the conscientious persuasions of his
confessor. Affairs of state have bolder precepts:
Exeat aulâ,
Qui vult esse pius.*
Let him who will be good from court retire.
-
I have formerly tried to employ in the manage-
ment of public affairs, opinions, and rules of living,
nagement as rude, new, unpolished, or unpolluted, as either
of public were born with me, or I was formed to from my
business.
education, and wherewith I serve my own turn, if
not so commodiously, at least as securely, in my own
particular concerns: but I have found a scholastic
and novice virtue, foolish and dangerous. He that
goes into a crowd, must now go one way, and then
another, keep his elbows close, retire, or advance,
and quit the direct way, according to what he en-
* Lucan, lika viii. ver. 493.
OF VANITY.
268
counters; and must live not so much according to
his own method, as that of others; not according to
what he purposes to himself, but according to what
is proposed to him, according to the time, according
to men, according to occasions. Plato says, that
whoever escapes unhurt from the world's handling,
escapes by miracle: and he says likewise, that when
he appoints his philosopher to be the head of a go-
vernment, he means not a corrupt one like that of
Athens, and much less such a one as this of ours,
wherein wisdom itself would be at a loss. A good
herb transplanted into a strong soil very contrary to
its own nature, much sooner conforms itself to the
soil, than it reforms the soil to it. I find, that if I
were wholly to form myself to such employments, I
must undergo a great deal of change and new
modelling. And though I could so far prevail upon
myself (and why might I not with time and dili-
gence work such a feat), I would not do it. By the
little trial I have had of public employment, it has
been so much disgust to me; I feel by times some
temptations toward ambition rising in my soul, but
I obstinately oppose them :
At tu, Catulle, obstinatus obdura.*
But thou, Catullus, hold out to the last.
·
I am seldom called to it; and as seldom offer myself
uncalled. Liberty and laziness, the qualities most
predominant in me, are qualities diametrically con-
trary to public employment. We cannot distin-
guish the faculties of men. They have divisions and
limits hard and delicate to choose. To conclude
from the discreet conduct of private life, a capacity
for the management of public affairs, is to conclude
wrong. A man may govern himself well, that can-
not govern others so, and compose essays, that could
not work effects. One man may order a siege well,
that cannot marshal a battle, and another may speak
*Catul. epig. 9, ver. 19.
264
OF VANITY.
Virtue
which is
cannot be
well in private, who would not be able to harangue
a people, or a prince. Nay, it is perhaps rather a
testimony in him who can do the one, that he can-
not do the other, than otherwise. I find that ele-
vated souls are not much more proper for low things,
than mean souls are for high ones. Could it be ima-
gined that Socrates would have administered oc-
casion of laughter to the Athenians at the expense
of his own reputation, for having never been able to
sum up the votes of his tribe, to deliver it to the
council? Doubtless, the veneration I have for the
perfections of this great man, deserves that his for-
tune should furnish so magnificent an example for
the excuse of my principal imperfections. Our suf-
ficiency is cut out into small parcels; mine has no
latitude, and is also very contemptible in number.
Saturninus* said, to those who had conferred upon
him the command in chief, " My fellow soldiers, you
"have lost a good captain, to make him a bad ge-
"neral of an army."+
'
Whoever boasts, in so sick a time as this, of em-
genuine ploying true and sincere virtue in the world's
and sincere service, either knows not what it is, opinions grow-
employed ing corrupt with manners (and in truth to hear them
in the ma- describe it, to hear how most of them boast of their
of a cor- deportment, and to see what rules they lay down;
rupt state. instead of painting virtue, they paint mere vice and
nagement
injustice altogether, and represent them in this false
light in the education of princes), or, if he does
know it, boasts unjustly, and, let him say what he
will, does a thousand things of which his own
conscience accuses him.
him. I would willingly take
Seneca's word, of the experience he made of it
upon the like occasion, provided he would deal
frankly with me. The most honourable mark of
goodness in such a necessity, is for a man freely to
* One of the thirty tyrants who rose in the time of the emperor
Galian.
+ Trebellii Pollionis triginta tyranni, p. 126, Hist. August.
OF VANITY.
265
confess both his own fault, and those of others; with
the power of his virtue to stop his inclination to-
wards evil, unwillingly to follow this bias, to hope
better, and to desire better. I perceive that in these
dismemberments and divisions wherein we in France
are involved, every one strives to defend his cause ;
even the best of them with dissimulation and lies.
He that would write roundly of the true state of the
quarrel, would write rashly and viciously. What is
the most just party, other than a member of a
cankered and worm-eaten body? But of such a
body, the member that is least affected, is said to be
sound, and with good reason, as our qualities have ·
no title but in comparison. Civil innocency is mea-
sured according to times and places. I like to read in
Xenophon such a commendation of Agesilaus; be-
ing intreated by a neighbouring prince, with whom
he formerly had war, to permit him to pass through
his country, he granted his request, giving him free
passage through the Peloponnesus; and not only
did not imprison or poison him, when he had him at
his mercy, but courteously received him according to
the obligation of his promise, without doing him the
least injury. To such humours as those, this was an
act of no great lustre; elsewhere, and in another
age, the frankness and magnanimity of such an ac-
tion will be in high esteem, our rascally capets*

* These capets are properly the scholars of Montague-College
at Paris. In 1480, John Standoncht of Mechlin, a doctor of the
Sorbonne, settled a fund for maintaining in this college eighty-four
scholars, in honour of the twelve apostles, and the seventy-two dis-
ciples of Jesus Christ. These scholars were called so from short
cloaks they wore, called capes. And as they were treated very
harshly, both with regard to their table, and to their discipline, they
were commonly such low geniuses, that the word capette was made
use of to signify a scholar of the most contemptible character, a
fool, an impertinent. Montaigne by the term of rascally capets in-
tends the bulk of his cotemporaries, who would not have failed to
ridicule the frank and generous spirit of Agesilaus. In the same
predicament may be placed those Flemish historians, who having ac-
cused Charles V. of imprudence in relying on the good faith of
9
266
OF VANITY.
The stu-
dents of
Montague-
Paris.
would have laughed at it, so little does the Spartan
innocence resemble that of France. We are with-
College in out virtuous men, but they are according to what
we repute so. Whoever has his manners established
in a regularity above the standard of the age he
lives in, let him either wrest and blunt his rules, or,
which I would rather advise him to, let him retire,
and not meddle with us at all. What would he get
by it:
Egregium sanctumque virum si cerno, bimembri
Hoc monstrum puero, et miranti jam sub aratro
Piscibus inventis et fætæ comparo mule.*
To me an honest man moré monster seems
Than nature shows ev'n when a woman teems
A child with two heads; than mule's foaling found,
Or wond'rous fishes plow'd out from the ground.
A man may regret that times are no better, but not
fly from the present; we may wish for other magis-
trates, but we must notwithstanding obey those we
have; and perhaps it is more laudable to obey the
bad than the good. So long as the image of the
ancient and received laws of this monarchy shall
shine in any corner of the kingdom, there will I
pitch my tent. If they unfortunately happen to
thwart and contradict one another, so as to produce
two factions of doubtful and difficult choice, I shall
most readily choose to escape and shun the tempest.
In the mean time nature, or the hazards of war, may
lend me a hand. Between Cæsar and Pompey, I
would frankly have declared myself; but amongst
the three robberst that came after, a man must have
been necessitated either to hide himself or to have
Francis I. when his imperial majesty passed through France in 1540,
have thereby signified their opinion, that Francis was very weak in
slipping so fair an opportunity of making himself master of his most
formidable enemy. The whole of this note was furnished me by M.
de la Monnoye.
* Juven. sat. xiii. ver. 64, &c.
+ Octavius, Mark Antony, and Lepidus.
OF VANITY.
267
gone along with the current of the time; which I
think lawful, when reason no longer rules:
Quo diversus abis ?*
Whither dost thou wand'ring run.
son why
› sometimes
subject as
This farrago is a little wide from my subject. I The rea-
go out of the way, but it is rather from a wantonness Mon-
than heedlessness. My fancies follow one another, taigne
but sometimes at a great distance; and look towards deviated
one another, but it is with an oblique glance. I from his
have read a dialogue of Plato, of a motley and he does
fanatic composition, beginning with the subject of here.
love, and ending with that of rhetoric. They stick
not at these variations, and with a marvellous grace
let themselves be carried away at the pleasure of the
wind; or at least seem as if they were. The titles
of my chapters do not always comprehend the sub-
ject; they oft but denote it by some mark only, as
those others, Andria, Eunuchus; or these, Sylla,
Cicero, Torquatus. I love the poetic ramble, by
leaps and skips; it is an art, as Plato says, light,
nimble, and a little maddish. There are pieces in
Plutarch, where he forgets his theme, where the
proposition of his argument is only found by inci-
dence; and stuffed throughout with foreign matter.
Do but observe his progress in the Dæmon of So-
crates. Good God, how beautiful then are his vari-
ations and frolicksome sallies, and then most of all,
when they seem to be fortuitous, and introduced for
want of heed. It is the unattentive reader that
loses my subject, and not I; there will always be
found some phrase or other in a corner that is to the
purpose, though it lie very close. I ramble indis-
creetly and tumultuously, my style and my wit wan-
der at the same rate; a little folly is tolerable in him
that will not be guilty of too much, say the precepts,
and much more the examples, of our masters. A
thousand poets flag and creep in the prosaic style,
* Æneid, lib. v. ver. 166.
•
268
OF VANITY.
but the best old prose (and I strew it here up and
down indifferently for verse) shines throughout, and
has the lustre, vigour, and boldness of poetry, not
without some air of its frenzy; and certainly prose
ought to have the pre-eminence in speaking. The
poet, says Plato, when set upon the Muse's tripod,
pours out with fury whatever comes into his mouth,
like the spout of a fountain, without considering and
pausing upon it; and things come from him of
various colours, of a contrary substance, and with
an uninterrupted torrent: and all the old theology
(as the learned inform us), as well as the first philo-
sophy, are poesy. It is the original language of the
gods; I mean, that the matter should distinguish
itself; it sufficiently shows where it changes, where
it concludes, where it begins, and where it rejoins,
without interlacing it with words of connection, in-
troduced for the service of dull or inattentive ears,
and without commenting on myself. Who is there
that had not rather not be read at all, than after a
drowsy or cursory manner? Nihil est tam utile, quod
in transitu prosit: "No work can be profitable,
"when it is read cursorily." If to take a book in
hand, were to learn it; if to look upon it, were to
consider it; and to run it slightly over, were to
make it a man's own; I were then to blame to make
myself altogether so ignorant as I say I am. Seeing
I cannot fix the attention of my reader by the
weight of what I write, manco male, "I am much
“ mistaken,” if I should chance to do it by per-
plexing him; nay, he will afterward repent that he
ever amused himself with it: it is very true, but he
will yet amuse himself with it. Besides, there are
some humours in which intelligence produces dis-
dain, who will think better of me for their not un-
derstanding what I say, and will conclude the depth
of my sense by its obscurity; which, to speak sin-
cerely, I mortally hate, and would avoid, if I knew
*
* Seneca, epist. 2.
OF VANITY.
269
how. Aristotle boasts somewhere in his writings,
that he affected it; vicious affectation. The fre-
quent breaks in chapters that I chose to make in the
beginning of my book, I have since thought, broke
and dissolved the attention before it was raised, as
making it disdain to settle and recollect itself to so
little; and upon that account I have made the rest
longer, such as require propositions, and assigned
leisure. In such an employment, to whom you will
not give an hour, you give nothing; and do nothing
for him, for whom you only do whilst you are doing
something else. To which may be added, that I
have perhaps some particular obligation to speak only
by halves, confusedly and inconsistently. I am there-
fore displeased with this impertinent way of talking,
these extravagant projects that trouble life, and
those opinions so refined, that though they have
truth, I think it too dear bought, and too disagree-
able. On the contrary, I make it my business to
bring vanity itself in repute, and folly too, if it bring
me any pleasure; and choose to follow my own na-
tural inclinations, without bearing too strict a hand
upon them.
cular
liking to
I have seen elsewhere palaces in rubbish, and His parti-
statues both of gods and men defaced, and yet there
are men still; all this is true, and yet for all that, I the city of
cannot so often review the ruins of that so great Rome.
and powerful city, that I do not admire and re- Meaning
verence it. The care of the dead is recommended Rome.
to us; besides I have been bred up from my infancy
with these people: I had knowledge of the affairs of
Rome long before I knew those of my own
house. I knew the Capitol, and its platform, before
I knew the Louvre; and the river Tiber, before the
river Seine. The qualities and fortunes of Lucullus,
Metellus, and Scipio, have ever run more in my head
than those of any of my own countrymen. They
are all dead, and so is my father as absolutely dead
as they, and is removed as far from me and life in
eighteen years, as they are in sixteen hundred;
270
OF VANITY.
1
towards
whose memory, friendship, and society, I neverthe-
less cherish and embrace with a perfect and lively
Gratitude union. Nay, my humour is to render myself more
the dead. officious to the dead; they no longer help them-
selves, and therefore methinks the more require my
assistance: it is there that gratitude appears in its
true lustre. Benefits are not so generously placed
where there is retrogradation and reflection. Arce-
silaus,* going to visit Cresibius who was sick, and
finding him in a very poor condition, privately con-
veyed some money under his pillow; and, by con-
cealing it from him, acquitted him moreover from
the acknowledgment due to such a benefit. Such as
have merited from me my friendship and gratitude,
have never lost them by being no more; I have bet-
ter and more carefully paid them, when they were
gone, and ignorant of what I did. I speak most
affectionately of my friends when it is no longer in
their power to know it. I have had a hundred
quarrels in defending of Pompey, and for the cause
of Brutus. This acquaintance yet continues be-
tween us. We have no other hold even of things
present but by fancy. Finding myself of no use to
this age, I throw myself back upon that other; and
am so enamoured of it, that the free, just, and
flourishing state of that ancient Rome (for I neither
like it in its birth, nor in its old age) engross my
affection to a degree of enthusiasm, and therefore I
cannot so oft review the situation of their streets
and houses, and those ruins as profound as the An-
tipodes, but they always amaze me. Is it by nature,
or through error of fancy, that the sight of places
which we know have been frequented and inhabited
by persons whose memories are recommended in
story, does, in some sort, work more upon us than to
hear a recital of their actions, or to read their writ-
ings? Tanta vis admonitionis inest in locis ; et id
quidem in hac urbe infinitum : quacumque enim ingre-
* Diogenes Laert. in the Life of Arcesilaus, lib. iv. sect. 37.
OF VANITY.
271
et
dimur, in aliquam historiam vestigium ponimus :*
"So great a power of admonition is there in places,
" and truly in this city so infinite, that, which way
"soever we go, we tread upon some history." It
pleases me to consider their face, port, and vest-
ments. I still ruminate on those great names, and
make them ring in my ears. Ego illos veneror,
tantis nominibus semper assurgo:† "I reverence
“ them, and rise up in honour of names so great."
Of things that are in any measure great and admir-
able, I admire even the common parts. I could
wish to see them talk, walk, and sup. It were in-
gratitude to contemn the relics and images of so
many worthy and valiant men as I have seen live and
die, and who, by their example, give us so many
good instructions, if we knew how to follow them.
cr
common
and univer-
Besides, this very Rome that we now see deserves Rome the
to be beloved; so long, and by so many titles a con-
federate with our crown; the only common and uni-sal metro-
versal city. The sovereign magistrate that com-polis of the
mands there, is equally acknowledged elsewhere: it
is the metropolitan city of all the Christian nations.
The Spanish and French are there at home. To be
a prince of this estate, there needs no more but to
be a prince of Christendom. There is no place upon
earth, that heaven has embraced with such an influ-
ence and constancy of favour; its very ruins are
glorious, and stately:
Laudandis preciosior ruinis.‡
More glorious by her wond'rous ruins.
She yet in her very ruins retains the marks and image
of empire. Ut palam sit uno in loco gaudentis opus
esse naturæ: "So that it is manifest that nature is in
"this one place enamoured of her own work." Some
would blame, and be angry at themselves for being
tickled with so vain a pleasure. Our humours are
* Cic. de Fin. lib. v. cap. 2.
+ Seneca, epist. 64.
‡ Sidonius, Apol. carm. 27, entitled Narbo ad Consentium, ver. 62.
272
OF VANITY.
In what
sense Mon-
never too vain that are pleasant. Whatever they are
that always content a man of common understanding,
I could not have the heart to accuse him.
I am very much obliged to Fortune, in that to this
taigne is very hour she has offered me no outrage beyond what
obliged to I was able to bear. Is it not her way to let those
live in quiet by whom she is not importuned ?
fortune.
Quanto quisque sibi plura negaverit,
A diis plura feret: nihil cupientium
Nudus castra peto: multa petentibus
Desunt multa.*
The more we to ourselves deny,
The more the bounteous gods supply,
The more indulgent heav'n bestows;
Far from the quarters of the great
Happy, though naked, I retreat :
Who covet much, their want is great.
If she continue her favour, she will dismiss me very
well satisfied:
Nihil supra
self a whit
the more
Deos lacesso.t
Nor for more
But beware a shock.
There are a thousand that
Do I the gods implore.
Present things
perish in the port. I am very easy as to what shall
here happen when I shall be gone.
take up enough of my thoughts:
Fortunæ cætera mando.
I leave the rest to Fortune.
He did not Besides, I have not that strong obligation, that
think him- which is said to attach men to futurity by the issue
that succeeds to their name and honour; and, per-
unhappy haps, I ought the less to covet them, if they are to
no children be so much desired. I am of myself but too much
to bear his tied to the world, and to this life. I am content to
name,
be in Fortune's power by circumstances properly
necessary to my being, without otherwise extending
* Hor. lib. iii. ode 16, ver. 21, ´ † Idem, lib. i. ode 18, ver. 11, 12.
OF VANITY.
279
1
•
•
her jurisdiction over me; and never thought, that
to be without children was a defect that ought to
render life less contented. The want of issue has
its conveniences too. Children are of the number Children
of things that are not very much to be desired, espe-not much
cially now, when it would be so hard to make them veted, and
good. Bona jam nec nasci licet, ita corruptă sunt way.
•semina : * "Nor can any thing good spring from
"seed so corrupt." And yet they are justly to be
lamented by such as have lost them..
hold affairs
not the
He who left me my house in charge prognosticated His house-
that I would ruin it, considering my rambling hu-
mour; but he was mistaken, for I am in the same worse for
condition now as when I first entered into it, or ra- hands.
ther better; and yet without office, or any place of
profit.
་་
•
being in his
stantial fa-
Fortune
werewindy
As to the rest, if Fortune has never done me any He receiv
violent or extraordinary injury, neither has she fa-ed no sub-
voured me. Whatever our family derives from her yours from
bounty, was there above a hundred years before my but such
time. I have, as to my own particular, no essential only as
and solid good, that I stand indebted for to her libe- and titular.
rality; she has indeed done me some airy honours,
and titulary favours that are not substantial; and
those, in truth, she has not granted, but offered me,
who, God knows, am all material, and like nothing
but what is real and solid. And who, if I durst con-
fess so much, would not think avarice much less ex-
cusable than ambition; nor pain less to be avoided
than shame; nor health less to be coveted than learn-
ing, or riches than nobility.
Amongst her empty favours there is none that so
much pleases the silly humour natural to my country,
as an authentic bull of a Roman burgess, that was
- granted me when I was last there, embellished with
pompous seals and gilt letters, and granted in the
most bountiful manner. And because it is couched
VOL. III.
* Tertul. de Pudicit.
Ꭲ .
274
OF VANITY.
vesting
Montaigne
with the
in a mixed style, more or less favourable, and that I
could have been glad to have seen the copy of it be-
fore it had passed the seal, I will, to satisfy any one
that may be sick of the same curiosity I was, trans-
cribe it here in its true form.

A ball in- Quod Horatius Maximus, Martius Cecius, Alex-
ander Mutus, almæ urbis conservatores, de illus-
trissimo viro, Michaele Montano, equite Sancti
Michaelis, et à cubiculo Regis Christianissimi
Romana civitate donando, ad Senatum retulerunt,
S. P. Q. R. de ea re ita fieri censuit.
freedom of
the city of
Rome.
1
CUM veteri more et instituto cupide illi semper stu-
dioseque suscepti sint, qui virtute ac nobilitate præ-
stantes, magno reip. nostra usui atque ornamento
fuissent, vel esse aliquando possent: nos majorum nos-
trorum exemplo, atque auctoritate permoti, præclaram
hanc consuetudinem nobis imitandam, ac servandam
fore censemus. Quamobrem cum_illustrissimus Mi-
chael Montanus eques Sancti Michaelis, et à cubiculo
Regis Christianissimi, Romani nominis studiosissimus,
et familiæ laude, atque splendore, et propriis virtu-
tum meritis dignissimus sit, qui summo senatus popu-
lique Romani judicio ac studio in Romanam civitatem
adsciscatur; placere senatui P. Q. R. illustrissimum
Michaelem Montanum rebus omnibus ornatissimum,
atque huic inclyto populo charissimum, ipsum poste-
rosque in Romanam civitatem adscribi, ornarique om-
nibus et præmiis et honoribus, quibus illi fruuntur,
qui cives patritiique Romani nati, aut jure optimo
facti sunt. In quo censere senatum P. Q. R. se non
tam illi jus civitatis largiri, quam debitum tribuere,
neque magis beneficium dare quam ab ipso accipere,
qui hoc civitatis munere accipiendo, singulari civita-
tem ipsam ornamento, atque honore affecerit. Quam
quidem S. C. auctoritatem iidem conservatores per
senatus P. Q. R. scribas in acta referri atque in
Capitolii curiâ servari, privilegiumque hujusmodi
OF VANITY.
276
-
•
fieri, solitoque urbis sigillo communiri curarunt.
Anno ab urbe condita cxɔcccxxxI.
natum MDLXXXI. III. idus Martii.
Post Christum
Horatius Fuscus Sacri S. P. Q. R. scriba.
Vincent. Martholus Sacri S. P. Q: R. scriba.
Being before burgess of no city at all, I was glad to
be created free of the most noble city that ever was,
or ever will be. If other men would consider them
selves as attentively as I do, they would, as I do,
discover themselves to be full of vanity and foppery;
and rid myself of it I cannot, without making my-
self away. We are all leavened with it, as well one
as another; but they who are sensible of it, have the
better bargain, and yet I know not whether they
have or no.
love to
himself.
This opinion, and common custom to observe Why man
others more than ourselves, has very much relieved does not
us. It is a very displeasing object: we see nothing know and
in it but misery and vanity. Nature, that we may observe
not be dejected with the sight of our own deformities,
has wisely projected our optic organ outward. We
go forward with the current, but to turn back to-
wards ourselves is a painful motion; thus is the sea
agitated and troubled when the waves are repelled
against one another. Observe, says every one, the
motion of the heavens; the revolution of public af
fairs; observe the quarrel of such a person; feel
such a one's pulse; mind another's last will and tes-
tament; in short, be always looking high or low, or
on one side, or before or behind you. It was a para-
doxical command anciently given us by the god at
Delphos: "Look into yourself, discover yourself,
keep close to yourself; call back your mind and
will, that elsewhere consume themselves, into
"yourself; you run out, you waste yourself; collect
yourself; support yourself; men betray you, men
spoil you, men steal you from yourself." Dost
not thou see that this world keeps all its views con-
.f
(c
•
+
T 2
276
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
fined within, and its eyes open to contemplate itself?
It is always vanity for thee, both within and without;
but it is less vanity when less extended. Excepting
thee (O man), said that god, every thing studies it-
self first, and has bounds to its labours and desires,
according to its need. There is nothing so empty
and necessitous as thou who embracest the universe;
thou art the explorator without knowledge, the ma-
gistrate without jurisdiction; and after all, the fool
in the play.
1
af
CHAPTER IX.
Of managing the Will.
Montaigne FEW things, in comparison of what commonly af-
fections in fect other men, move, or to speak more properly,
a moderate captivate me: for it is but reason they should con-

state.
cern a man, provided they do not wholly engross
him. I am very solicitous, both by study and argu-
ment, to enlarge this privilege of insensibility, which
in me is naturally far advanced, so that I espouse,
and am consequently moved with few things. I
have a clear sight, but I fix it upon very few objects;
have a sense delicate and tender, but an apprehen-
sion and application hard and dull; I am very un-
willing to engage myself. As much as in me lies, I
employ myself wholly for myself; and in this very
subject, would rather choose to curb and restrain my
affection from plunging entirely into it, it being a
subject that I possess at the mercy of others, and
over which fortune has more right than I. Even so
far as to health, which I so much value, it were ne-
cessary for me, not so passionately to covet and de-
sire it, as to think diseases insupportable. There
ought to be a medium between the hatred of pain,


OF MANAGING THE WILL.
277
and love of pleasure. And Plato prescribes the very
thing.
strove a-
tached him
But against such affections as carry me away from Why he
myself, and fix me elsewhere; against those, I say, gainst those
I oppose myself with all my force. It is my opinion, which at-
that a man should lend himself to others, and only to what
give himself to himself. Were my will easy to be was foreign
engaged and swayed, I would not stick there: I am
too tender both by nature and habit,
Fugax rerum, securaque in otia natus.*
I fly from business as from a disease;
Having been bred in negligence and ease.
for hot and obstinate disputes wherein my adversary
would at last have the better; and the issue, which
would render my heat of argument disgraceful, would
perhaps vex me to the last degree. Should I set
myself to it as earnestly as others do, my soul would
never be able to bear the emotion and alarms, which
those feel who grasp so much, and it would immedi-
ately be distracted by this inward agitation. If some-
times I have been put upon the management of other
men's affairs, I have promised to take them in hand,
but not into my lungs and liver; to charge myself
with them, not to incorporate them: to take pains,
but not to be passionate in them; I have a regard
to them, but I will not brood over them: I have
enough to do to order and govern the domestic
throng that I have in my own veins and bowels,
without harbouring and loading myself with a crowd
of other men's affairs, and have enough of my own
proper and natural business to mind, without calling
in the concerns of others. Such as know how much
they owe to themselves, and how many offices they
are bound to of their own, find, that nature has cut
them out work enough of their own to keep them
from being idle. Thou hast business enough at
home, look to that. Men let themselves out to
-
7.
Ovid. de Trist. lib. iii. eleg. 2, ver. 9.
to himself.

978
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
!
hire; their faculties are not for themselves, but are
employed for those to whom they have enslaved
themselves; this common humour pleases not me.
We must be thrifty of the liberty of our souls, and
never let them out but upon just occasions, which if
we judge aright, are very few. Do but observe such
as have accustomed themselves to be at every one's
call and command; they are so upon all, as well
little as great, occasions, in what does not concern
them, as well as in what does. They intrude them-
selves indifferently wherever there is business, and
are without life, when not in some bustle of affairs.
In negotiis sunt negotii causâ :* "They only seek
"business for business' sake.” It is not so much
that they desire to go, as it is that they cannot stand
still: like a rolling stone from a hill, that stops not
till it is at the bottom. Business, in a certain sort
of men, is a mark of understanding and dignity.
Their minds are not easy but in agitation, as children
that must be rocked in a cradle. They may pro-
nounce themselves as serviceable to their friends, as
troublesome to themselves. No one is lavish of his
money to another, but every one is ready to give
him his time and his life. There is nothing of which
we are so prodigal as of these things, of which to be
thrifty, would be both commendable and useful. I
am of a quite contrary humour. I look to myself,
and commonly covet with no great ardour what I do
desire, and desire little: I employ and busy myself
likewise but rarely and temperately. Whatever they
aim at and take in hand, they do it with their utmost
desire and with vehemency. There are so many.
wrong steps in life, that for the greater safety, we
must a little lightly and superficially slide through
the world, and not plunge into it over head and ears.
Pleasure itself is painful at the bottom;
Incedis per ignes
Suppositos cineri doloso:+
Seneca, epist. 22,
+ Hor. lib. ii. ode 1, ver. 7,
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
279
:
Thou upon glowing coals dost tread,
Under deceitful ashes hid.
obliged to
mayor of
The parliament of Bourdeaux chose me mayor of Montaigne
their city, at a time when I was far from France, and serve the
much farther from any such thought: I entreated office of
to be excused; but I was told that I was to blame, Bour-
the king having also interposed his command in that deaux.
affair. It is an office that ought to be looked upon
the more honourable, as it has no salary nor advan-
tage but the bare honour of its execution: it con-
tinues two years, but may be extended by a second
election, which very rarely happens; but it did to
me, though it never did so but twice before: viz.
some years ago to Monsieur de Lansac, and lately to
Monsieur de Biron, mareschal of France, in whose
place I succeeded, and left mine to Monsieur de
Matignon, mareschal of France also, proud of so
noble a fraternity:
Uterque bonus pacis bellique minister.*
Both fit for governing in peace and war.
Fortune would have a hand in my promotion, by this
particular circumstance which she put in of her own,
not altogether vain; for Alexander disdained the
ambassadors of Corinth, who offered him the free-
dom of their city; but when they informed him that
Bacchus and Hercules were also in the register, he
thankfully accepted it.

gave of
trates of
At my arrival, I faithfully and conscientiously re- The cha-
presented myself to them such as I find myself to racter he
be: a man without memory, without vigilance, with- himself to
out experience, and without vigour; but likewise the magis
void of hatred, ambition, avarice, and violence; that Bour-
they might know what they were to expect from my
service. And because the knowledge they had of
my deceased father, and the honour in which they
held his memory, were their only motives to confer
this favour upon me, I plainly told them, that I
* Æneid, lib. xi. ver. 658.
會
​deaux.
1
280
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
Why the
sages re-
would be very sorry any thing should make so great
an impression upon me, as their affairs and the con-
cerns of their city had done upon him, whilst he had
the care of them in the same government to which
they had preferred me. I very well remember when
I was a boy, to have seen him in his old age, cruelly
tormented with the toil of the public affairs; for-
getting the sweet calm of his own house, to which
-his age and infirmity had attached him for several
years before; regardless of his own affairs, and of
his health, and really despising his own life, which
was in great danger of being lost by being engaged
in long and painful journeys for their service. Such
(was he, and this humour of his proceeded from great
good nature. Never was there a more charitable and
public spirited soul. Yet this proceeding which I
commend in another, I do not love to follow myself,
and am not without excuse. He had learned," that
a man must, forget himself for his neighbour, and
that individuals were of no manner of consideration
in comparison with the general concern.
i
men to neg-
Most of the rules and precepts of this world tend
commend to drive us out of ourselves to go a hunting for the
ed it to benefit of the society. They thought to do a great
lect them feat, to divert and separate us from ourselves, pre-
the sake osuming we were but too much attached to ourselves
the public by a too natural inclination, and have left nothing
selves for
of
•
unsaid to that purpose: for it is no new thing for
wise men to preach up things as they serve, not as
they are. Truth has its obstructions, inconveni-
ences, and incompatibilities with us. We must be
often deceived, that we may not deceive ourselves,
Our eyes must be shut, and our understandings stu-
pified to recover and amend them. Imperiti enim
judicant, et qui frequenter in hoc ipsum fallendi sunt,
ne errent: "For the ignorant judge, and therefore
"are oft to be deceived lest they should err."
When they prescribe to us to love three, four, and
fifty degrees of things above ourselves, they do like
archers, who, to hit the white, take their aim a great

OF MANAGING THE WILL.
281
deal higher than the butt. To set a crooked stick
straight, we bend it the contrary way. I believe
that in the temple of Pallas, as we see in all other
religions, there were apparent mysteries to be ex-
posed to the people, and others more secret and sub-
lime, that were only to be shown to such as were the
professors.
wise man
is
obligation
others, by
owes to
It is likely that the true point of friendship, that The truly
every one owes to himself, is to be found in these convinc-
things; not a false friendship, that makes us em-ed of the
brace glory, knowledge, riches, and the like, with which he
a principal and immoderate affection, as members of owes to
our being; nor an indiscreet and effeminate friend- knowing
ship, which, like ivy, decays and ruins the walls it what he
embraces: but a sound and regular friendship, himself.
equally profitable and pleasant. Whoever knows
the duties of this friendship, and practises them, is
truly of the cabinet council of the Muses, and has
attained to the height of human wisdom, and our
happiness. Such an one, exactly knowing what he
owes to himself, will on his part find that he ought
to apply the use of the world, and of other men, to
himself, and for this end to contribute the duties and
offices appertaining to him to the public society.
He who lives not in some sort for others, lives not
much for himself. Qui sibi amicus est, scito hunc
amicum omnibus esse :* "He who is his own friend
" is a friend to all men." The principal charge we
have is, to every one to take care of himself: and it
is for this that we here live. As he who would omit
to lead a virtuous and holy life, and think he ac-
quitted himself of his duty, by instructing and train-
ing others up to it, would be a fool; even so he,
who abandons his own healthful and pleasant life to
serve others, takes, in my opinion, a course that is
wrong and unnatural.

too eager
I would not that men should refuse, in the em- He that is
ployments they take upon them, their attention, in the ex-
* Seneca, epist. 6, at the end.
282
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
ercise of an pains, their eloquence, and, if need be, their sweat
office can-
not manage and blood:
it with pru-
dence nor
equity.
Non ille pro charis amicis
Aut patriâ timidus perire.*
Dares for his country or his friend to die.
But this is by way of loan and accidentally; his
mind being always in repose and in health; not with-
out action, but without vexation, without passion.
Merely to act, costs him so little, that he acts even
sleeping. But it must be put into brisk motion with
discretion; for the body receives the offices imposed
upon it, just according to what they are; the mind
oft extends, and makes them heavier at its own ex-
pense, giving them what measure it pleases. Men
perform like things with different efforts, and a dif-
ferent contention of the will; the one does well
enough without the other. For how many people
hazard themselves every day in war, without any con-
cern which way it goes, and thrust themselves into
the dangers of battles, the loss of which will not
break their next night's sleep? And there are men
at home, out of such danger, which they durst not
have faced, who are more passionately concerned
for the issue of this war, and whose soul is more
anxious about the events of it, than the soldier who
spends his life and blood in it. I could have engaged
myself in public employments, without quitting my-
self a hair's breadth, and have given myself to others,
without abandoning myself; this eagerness and ve-
hemence of desires more hinders than advances the
conduct of what we undertake; fills us with impa-
tience against slow or contrary events, and with bit-
terness and suspicion against those, with whom we
have to do. We never carry on that thing well, by
which we are wholly possessed and governed:
:
Male cuncta ministrat
Impetus.t
* Hor. lib. iv. ode 9, ver. 52.
+ Statius in Thebais, lib. x. ver. 4 & 5:
OF MANAGING THE WILL,
283
With heated minds we ne'er conduct things well.
He, who therein employs only his judgment and ad-
dress, proceeds more cheerfully: he counterfeits, he
gives way, he defers all things at his ease, according
to the necessities of occasions; he fails in his at-
tempts without trouble and affliction, ready and en-
tire for a new enterprise: he always marches with
the bridle in his hand. In him who is intoxicated
with this violent and tyrannical intention, we neces-
sarily discover much imprudence and injustice. The
impetuosity of his desire carries him away. These
are rash motions, and, if fortune do not very much
assist, of very little fruit. Philosophy requires that, That the
in the punishment of injuries received, we should chastise-
divest ourselves of choler; not that the revenge fences
should be less, but, on the contrary, that it may be ought to be
the better applied, and the more heavily laid on, without
which, it is conceived, will be hindered by this im- anger.
petuosity. For anger not only troubles, but of it-
self also wearies the arms of those who chastise.
This fire benumbs and wastes their strength. As in
precipitancy, festinatio tarda est: "The more haste,
the worse speed.". Haste trips up its own heels,
fetters and stops itself, ipse se velocitas implicat.*
For example: according to what I commonly see,
avarice has no greater impediment than itself. The
more intense and vigorous it is, the less it rakes to-
gether, and commonly sooner gathers riches when
disguised under a mask of liberality.
ment of of
performed
character
to
A very honest gentleman, a friend of mine, had Excellent
like to have cracked his brains by a too passionate of a prince
attention to the affairs of a certain prince, his mas- who was
ter; which master has thus painted himself to me: superior
the acci-
that he foresees the weight of accidents as well as dents of his
another; but that in those for which there is no
remedy, he presently resolves upon patience. In
others, having taken all the necessary precautions,
which by the vivacity of his understanding he can
soon do, he calmly waits what may follow. And, in
* Seneca, epist. 44, at the end.
fortune.
284
OF MANAGING THE WILL,
vantage in
truth, I have accordingly seen him maintain a great
indifferency and freedom of actions, and counte
nance, in very great and perplexed affairs. I find
him a greater and a more able man in adversity
than prosperity. His losses are to him more glo-
rious than his victories, and his mourning than his
triumphs.
It is an ad- Do but consider that, even in vain and frivolous
gaming to action, as at chess, tennis, and the like, this eager
keep one's and ardent engaging with an impetuous desire, im-
temper
both in
gain and
loss.
A man
ought to
interest.
mediately throws the mind and members into indis-
cretion and disorder. A man puzzles and bewilders
himself. He that carries himself the most mode-
rately, both towards gain and loss, has always his
wits about him. The less peevish and passionate he
is at play, he plays with much more advantage and
safety.
As to the rest, we hinder the mind's grasp in giv-
know his -ing it so many things to seize upon. Some things
own solid we are only to offer to it, to tie it to others, and
with others to incorporate it. I can feel and discern
all things, but ought to feed on nothing but self;
and should be instructed in what properly concerns
itself, and what is properly of its own possession and
substance: the laws of nature teach us what we are
justly to have. After the sages have told us, that
no one is indigent by nature, and that every one is
so according to opinion, they very subtilly distin-
guish between the desires that proceed from the
former, and those that proceed from the irregularity
of our fancy. Those, of which we can see the end,
are nature's; those that fly before us, and of which
we can see no end, are our own.
There is an easy
eure for the want of goods; but the poverty of the
soul is incurable:
Nam si, quod satis est homini, id satis esse potesset,
Hoc sat erat: nunc, quum hoc non est, qui credimus porro,
Divitias ullas animum mi explere potesse 2*

*Lucilius, lib. v. apud Nunnium, cap. 5, sect, 98,
the
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
285
#
If what's for man enough, enough could be,"
It were enough; but as we plainly see
That wont suffice, how can I e'er believe.
That any wealth my mind content can give ?
Socrates seeing a heap of treasure, jewels, and cost-
ly furniture, carried in pomp through the city,
"How many things," said he," do I not desire !"
Metrodorus lived on the weight of twelve ounces a
day; Epicurus upon less: Métrocles,† in winter,
slept abroad amongst sheep, in summer in the clois-
ters of churches: Sufficit ad id natura quod poscit :‡
"Nature furnishes what it absolutely needs." Cle
anthes lived by the labour of his own hands, and
boasted, "That Cleanthes, if he would, could yet
maintain another Cleanthes."S

cessities
little be-
demands of
If that, which nature exactly and originally re- Why his ne
quires of us for the preservation of our being, be too may be ex-
little (as, in truth, how much it is, and how cheaply tended a
life may be maintained, cannot be better made out, yond the
than by this consideration, that it is so little, that by necessary f
its littleness it escapes the gripe and shock of for- nature.
tune), let us allow ourselves a little more, let us even
call every one of our habits and conditions nature;
let us tax and treat ourselves by this measure, let
us stretch our appurtenances and accompts thus far;
for so far I fancy we have some excuse. Custom is
a second nature, and no less powerful. What is
wanting to my custom, I reckon as wanting to me;
and I would be almost as well content that they took
away my life, as retrench me in the way wherein I
have so long lived. I am past the terms of any great
change, nor able to put myself into a new and un-
wonted course, though it were to my advantage; it
* Cic. Tusc. Quæst. lib. v. cap. 32.
+ Plutarch, in his tract entitled, that Vice alone is sufficient to
make a Man unhappy, chap. 4.

Seneca, epist. 18.
It was Zeno who said this to Cleanthes, his disciple, if we may
believe Diogenes Laertius in the life of Cleanthes, lib. vii. sect.
169, 170.
286
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
is
past the time for me to become other than what I
am. And I would complain of any great good ad-
venture that should now befal me, that it came not
in time to be enjoyed:
Quo mihi fortunas, si non conceditur uti ?*
Might I have the world's wealth, I should refuse it;
What good will it do me, if I may not use it?
so would I complain of my inward acquisition. It
were almost better never, than so late, to become
honourable and to know the world thoroughly
when a man has no longer to live. I, who am go-
ing out of it, would easily resign to any new comer
all the prudence I have acquired in the world's
¡ commerce. "After meat comes mustard." I have
no need of goods, of which I can make no use. Of
what use is knowledge to him that has lost his head?
it is an injury and unkindness in fortune, to tender
us presents that will inspire us with a just resent-
ment that we had them not in their season. Guide
me no more, I can no longer go. Of so many parts
as make up a sufficiency, patience is the best. As-
sign the part of an excellent treble to a chorister
that has rotten lungs, and eloquence to a hermit ex-
iled into the deserts of Arabia. There is no art
necessary for a fall; the end comes of itself, at the
conclusion of every affair. My world is at an end,
my form expired; it is all over with me; and I am
bound to authorise it, and to conform my exit to it.
The abridg-I will here declare, by way of example, that the late
days offer ten days' diminution of the year by the pope, has ta-
ed by the ken me so low, that I cannot well reconcile myself
ment of ten
pope.
to it. I follow the years wherein we kept another
kind of account: so ancient, and so long a custom,
challenges and calls me back to it; so that I am con-
strained to be a kind of heretic in that point, impa-
tient of any, though corrective, innovation. My
imagination, in spite of my teeth, always pushes me
* Hor. lib. i. epist. 5, ver. 12,
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
287
ten days forward or backward, and is ever murmur-
ing in my ears. This rule concerns those who are
to begin to be. If health itself, as sweet as it is, re-
turns to me by intervals, it is rather to give me
cause of regret than possession of it; I have no
longer the means of recovering it. Time leaves
me, without which nothing can be possessed. Oh,
what little account should I make of those great
elective dignities that I see in the world, which are
only conferred upon men who are taking leave of
it! Wherein it is not so much regarded how well he
will discharge them, as how little a while; from the
very entrance they have an eye to the exit. To
conclude, I am ready to finish this man, and not to
rebuild another. . By long custom, this form is, in
me, turned into substance, and fortune into nature.
I say therefore, that every one of us feeble crea-
tures is excusable in thinking that his own, which is
comprised under this measure; but beyond these li-
mits, it is nothing but confusion, it is the largest ex-
tent we can grant to our prerogative. The more
we amplify our possessions, so much the more do we
expose ourselves to the strokes of fortune and adver-
sity. The career of our desires ought to be circum-
scribed, and restrained to a short limit of near and
contiguous conveniences; and ought moreover to
perform their course, not in a right line, that ends
elsewhere, but in a circle, of which the two points
by a short circumvolution meet and terminate in
ourselves. Actions that are carried on without this
reflection, a near and essential reflection I mean,
such as those of ambitious and avaricious men, and
many more, who run from the point, and whose
career always carries them before themselves, such
actions, I say, are erroneous and crazy.
•
man is not
Most of our business is farce: Mundus universus An honest
We must play our part duly, corrupted
exercet histrionem.*
but nevertheless as the part of a borrowed person; by the em-
* Petronius Arbiter, lib. iii. cap. 8.
12
288
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
he exer-
cises.
AL
* 66.
ployment we must not make real essence out of a vizor and
outward appearance, nor of a strange person our
own; we cannot distinguish things that are near
from those that are remote; it is enough to meal
the face, without mealing the breast. I see some,
who transform and transubstantiate themselves into as
many new shapes and new beings as they undertake
employments, and who, with the pride of Lucifer,
carry their office along with them, even to their
close-stool: I cannot make them distinguish the sa
lutations made to them, from those that are made to
their commission, their train, or their mule: Tan-
tum se fortunæ permittunt, etiam ut naturam dedis-
cant : They are so intoxicated with their for
tune, as even to forget their nature." They swell
and puff up their souls, and their natural tone of
speaking, according to the height of their place.
The mayor and Montaigne have ever been two per-
sons, by very manifest separation. To be an advo-
cate or a treasurer, a man must not be ignorant of
the knavery of such callings; an honest man is not
accountable for the vices or folly of his profession,
and yet ought not to refuse to take it upon him: it is
the custom of his country, and there is money to be
got by it; a man must live by the world, and make
his best of it, such as it is. But the judgment of an
emperor ought to be upon his empire, and the see-
ing and considering of it, as of a foreign accident:
and he ought to know how to enjoy himself apart
from it, and to communicate himself, as James and
Peter, to himself at least. I cannot engage myself
so deep and entire.
ing a party,
•
}

Montaigne; When my will gives me up to a party, it is not
by espous with so violent an obligation as to infect my under-
did not es- standing. In the present broils of this kingdom,
fary, injus- my interest has not made me forget the qualities of
tice, and ri-our adversaries that are laudable, nor those that are
whimsies. reproachable in our party. They adore all of their
pouse. its
dicolous
* Quin. Cur. lib. ii. cap. 2..
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
289
own side; for my part I do not so much as excuse
those things in mine: a good piece has never the
worse grace for being levelled at me. The knot of
the controversy excepted, I have always kept my-.
self in equanimity and pure indifference: Neque ex-
tra necessitates belli præcipuum odium gero: " And
"have no particular hatred beyond the necessities
"of war." For which I am pleased with myself,
and the more, because I see common failings on the
contrary side. Such as extended their anger and
hatred beyond the dispute in question, as most men
do, show that they spring from some other motive
and particular cause; like one who, being cured of
an ulcer, has yet a remaining fever, by which it ap-
pears that the latter had another source more con-
cealed. Thus they are not concerned in the com-
mon cause, as it is wounding to the interest of the
state and the public, but are only animated by their
private concerns. This is the true reason why they
are so particularly piqued, and to a degree beyond
justice and public reason: Non tam omnia universi,
quam ca, quæ ad quemque pertinent, singuli carpe-
bant: "Every one was not so much angry at things
"in general, as at those that particularly concerned
"themselves.". I would have matters go well on
our side; but if they do not, I shall not run mad.
I am heartily for the right party; but I do not affect
to be taken notice of in particular for an enemy to
the others, and beyond the general reason. I am a
mortal enemy to this vicious form of censure: "He
"is of the league, because he admires the person of
"the duke of Guise. Another is astonished at the
king of Navarre's activity, and therefore he is a
"Hugonot. Another finds such and such faults
" in the king's conduct, and therefore he is seditious
"in his heart." I would not grant to a magistrate
himself, that he did well in condemning a book, be-
cause it had ranked a heretic among the best poets
of the time. Shall we not dare to say of a thief,
that he has a handsome leg? If a woman be a strum-
66
VOL. III.
U
290
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
The indis-
creet facili-
fering them-
upon by the
party.
pet, must it needs follow that she has a stinking
breath? Did they in the wisest ages revoke the su-
perb title of Capitolinus, which they had before con-
ferred upon Marcus Manlius, as the conservator of
religion and public liberty; did they stifle the me-
mory of his liberality, his feats of arms, and the military
rewards granted to his virtue, because he afterwards
aspired to the sovereignty, in prejudice of the laws of
his country? If they have taken a hatred against an
advocate, he will not be allowed the next day to be
eloquent. I have elsewhere spoke of the zeal that
pushed on worthy men to the like faults. For my
part, I can say, such a one does this thing wickedly,
and another thing virtuously. In like manner, in
the prognostics, or sinister events of affairs, they
pronounce every one of his party to be blind, or a
blockhead, and require our persuasion and judg-
ment to be subservient, not to truth, but to the pro-
ject of our wishes. I would rather incline towards
the other extreme, so much do I fear being in-
fluenced by my desire: to which may be added, that
I am a little tenderly distrustful of things that I
wish.
I have in my time seen wonders in that indiscreet
ty of peo- and prodigious readiness of people in suffering their
ple in suf- hopes and belief to be led and governed which way
selves to be has best pleased and served their leaders, through a
imposed hundred mistakes one upon another, and through
leaders of a dreams and phantasms. I no longer wonder at those
who have been seduced by the fooleries of Apollo-
nius and Mahomet. Their sense and understanding
is absolutely stifled in their passion; their discretion
has no more any other choice than that which smiles
upon them, and encourages their cause. I had
principally observed this in the beginning of our in-
testine heasts; this other, which is sprung up since,
by imitating, has surpassed it; by which I am in-
duced to think that it is a quality inseparable from
popular errors. After the first that starts, opinions
drive on one another like waves with the wind. A.
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
man is not a member of the body, if it be in his
power to forsake it, and if he do not run with the
herd; but certainly they wrong the just side, when
they go about to assist it with fraud. I have ever
been against that practice. This can only work
upon weak heads; as for the sound, there are surer,
as well as more honest, ways to keep up their cou-
rage, and to excuse cross accidents.
291
between
war, and
mented be-
Heaven never beheld so great an animosity as that Difference
between Cæsar and Pompey, nor ever will; and yet Cæsar and
I observe methinks in those brave souls a great mo- Pompey's
deration towards one another. It was a jealousy of that which
honour and command, which did not transport them was fo-
to a furious and indiscreet hatred; theirs was tween Ma-
hatred without malignity and detraction. In their rius and
hottest exploits, I discover some remains of respect
and good-will; and therefore am of opinion, that,
had it been possible, each of them would rather
have done his business without the ruin of the other,
than with it. Take notice how much otherwise
matters went with Marius and Sylla?
Sylla.
of a man's
We must not be so desperately driven by our af. The danger
fections and interest. As when I was young, I op-being a
posed the progress of love, which I perceived to ad- slave to his
vance too fast upon me, and took care lest it should affections.
at last become so pleasing, as to captivate, and
wholly reduce me to its mercy: so I do the same
upon all other occasions where my will runs on with
too keen an appetite. I lean opposite to the
side it inclines to, as I find it going to plunge and
make itself drunk with its own wine; I avoid nou-
rishing its pleasure so far, that I cannot recover it
without a cruel loss. Souls that, through their own
stupidity, only discern things by halves, have this
happiness, that they smart least with hurtful things.
It is a mental leprosy that has some appearance of
health, and such a health as philosophy does not al-
together contemn; but yet we have no reason to
call it wisdom, as we often do. After this manner
one anciently mocked Diogenes, who, in the depth
U 2
292
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
of winter, and stark-naked, went to embrace a
statue covered with snow for a trial of his patience.*
The other meeting him in this plight, "Art thou
"not very cold?" said he.t "Not at all," replied
Diogenes Diogenes.
t Why then," said the other, "what
great and exemplary thing canst thou think thou
"dost, in embracing the snow?" A man, to take a
true measure of constancy, must necessarily know.
what suffering is.
patient of
cold.
How Mon-
deavoured
bad acci-
ment of his
.
But souls that are to meet with cross events, and
taigne en- the injuries of fortune in their depth and severity,
to prevent that are to weigh and taste them according to their
dents in the natural weight and sharpness; let such show their
manage skill in avoiding the causes, and diverting the blow.
affairs and What did king Cotys do? He paid liberally for
actions. the rich and beautiful vessel that had been presented
A rich ves- him;
but it being exceeding brittle, he immediately
posely bro-broke it to prevent in good time so easy a matter of
king Cotys, displeasure against his servants. In like manner, I
and why. have willingly avoided all confusion in my affairs,
sel pur-
ken by
and never coveted to have my estate contiguous to
those of my relations, and persons with whom I was
desirous of a strict friendship; whence matters of
unkindness, and which has often occasioned a
strangeness and a separation. I have formerly loved
the hazardous games of cards and dice, but have
long since left them off, only for this reason, that
though I put a good face on my losses, I was vexed
at my heart. Let a man of honour, who ought
heartily to resent a lie and an affront, and who is
not to take a bad excuse for satisfaction, avoid occa-
sions of dispute. I shun melancholic and morose
men, as I would do the plague.. And in matters I
cannot treat of without emotion and concern, I
never meddle, if not compelled by my duty. Me-
* Diog. Laert. in the Life of Diogenes the Cynic, lib. vi. sect. 23,
+ Plutarch, in the Notable Sayings of the Lacedæmonians.
Plutarch, in the Notable Sayings of ancient kings, &c. in the
article Cotys.
9
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
293
·
lius non incipient, quam desinent :* " A man had
"better never to have begun, than to leave un-
"done." The surest way, therefore, is, to prepare
a man's self beforehand for occasions. I know very
well, that some wise men have taken another course,
and have not feared to grapple and engage to the
utmost upon several subjects. Such are confident
of their own strength, under which they protect
themselves in all ill successes, making their pa
tience wrestle with disasters:
-Velut rupes vastum quæ prodit in æquor,
Obvia ventorum furiis, expostaque ponto,
Vim cunctam atque minas perfert cœlique marisque,
Ipsa immota manens. †
He as a rock amongst vast billows stood,
Scorning loud winds, and raging of the flood,
And fix'd remaining all the force defies
Muster'd from theat'ning seas and thund'ring skies?‡
Let us never attempt these examples; we shall never
come up to them. They set themselves resolutely,
and without trouble, to behold the ruin of their
country, which had a right to all the good they
could do. This is too much, and too harsh for our
vulgar souls to undergo. Cato, indeed, gave up the
noblest life that ever was upon this account; but it
is for us meaner spirited men to fly from the storm
as far as we can; we ought to make provision of re-
sentment, not of patience, and evade the blows we
cannot put by. Zeno, seeing Chremonides, a young
man whom he loved, draw near to sit down by him,
suddenly started up, and Cleanthes demanding of
him the reason why he did so, "I hear," said he,
"that physicians strictly enjoin repose, and forbid
"emotion in all tumours." Socrates says not, Do
not surrender to the charms of beauty, stand your
ground, and do your utmost to oppose it. Fly
* Senec. ep. 92. + Virg. Æn. lib. x. ver. 693.
§ Diog. Laert. in the Life of Zeno, lib. vii. sect. 17.
+ Mr. Ogilby.
J
294
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
He endea-
voured to
check the
his pas-
sions.
from it, says he, shun the sight and encounter of it,
as you would from strong poison that darts and
wounds at a distance. And his good disciple,*
either feigning or reciting, but in my opinion, rather
reciting than feigning the rare perfections of that
great Cyrus, makes him distrustful of his own
strength, to resist the charms of the divine beauty of
the illustrious Panthea, his captive, in committing
her to the observation and keeping of another, who
was more enamoured than himself. And the Holy
Ghost in like manner: Ne nos inducas in tenta-
tionem: "Lead us not into temptation," Matth.
vi. ver. 13. We do not pray that our reason may
not be combated and overcome by concupiscence,
but that it be not so much as tried by it; that we
may not be brought into a state wherein we may be
so much as liable to suffer the approaches, solicita-
tions, and temptations of sin: and we beg of al-
mighty God to keep our consciences quiet, fully
and perfectly free from all communication with
evil.
Such as say that they have reason for their reveng-
ing passion, or any other sort of troublesome agi-
first sally of tation of mind, oft say true, as things now are, but
not as they were. They speak to us when the causes
of their error are by themselves nourished and ad-
vanced. But look backward, recal these causes to
their beginning, and there you will put them to a
nonplus; will they think their fault less for being of
longer continuance, and that of an unjust beginning
the sequel can be just? whoever shall desire the
good of his country as I do, without fretting or pin-
ing himself, will be chagrined, but will not swoon
to see it threatening either its final ruin, or no less
ruinous continuance. Poor vessel, which the waves,
the winds, and the pilot, steer to with such contrary
views!
* Xenophon, in his Cyropædia, lib. v. cap. 1, ver. 3, 4, 5, 6.
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
295
- In tam diversa, magister,
Ventus, et unda trahunt.*
He, who pants not for the favour of princes, as a
thing he cannot live without, does not much con-
cern himself at the coldness of their reception and
countenance, nor at the inconstancy of their hu-
mours. He, who does not brood over his children,
or his honours, with a slavish fondness, lives com-
modiously enough after their loss. He, that does
good principally for his own satisfaction, will not be
much troubled to see men judge of his actions con-
trary to his merit. A quarter of an ounce of pa-
tience will be enough against such inconveniences.
I find satisfaction in this receipt, redeeming myself
in the beginning as cheaply as I can; and am sensi-
ble that I have thereby escaped much trouble and
mány difficulties. With
With very little ado I stop the
first sally of my passions, and leave the subject that
begins to be troublesome before it transports me.
He, who stops not the start, will never be able to
stop the career. He, who cannot keep the passions
out, will never drive them out when they are got in;
and he, who cannot crush them at the beginning,
will never do it in the end, nor ever recover his fall,
if he cannot stand the shock. Et enim ipsa se impel-
lunt, ubi semel â ratione discessum est : ipsaque sibi
imbecillitas indulget, in altumque provehitur impru-
dens: ne creperit locum consistendi: "For men
"are precipitant, when once they lose their reason;
"and frailty does so far indulge itself, that it is in-
"discreetly carried out into the deep, and can find
"no port to stop at." I am betimes sensible of the
little breezes that begin to whistle in the shrouds,
the forerunners of a storm:
Ceu Alamina prima
Cum deprensa fremunt sylvis, et cæca volutant
Murmura, venturos nautis prodentia ventos. ‡
* Buchanan.
‡ Æneid, lib. x. ver. 97, &c.
+ Cic. Tusc. lib. iv. cap. 18.
296
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
With what
care he a-
voided
'
As when winds rise,
And stopt by woods, a sudden murmur send,
Which doth a storm to mariners portend.*
How oft have I done myself a manifest injustice
to avoid the hazard of having yet a worse done me
law-suits. by the judges, after an age of vexations, dirty and
vile practices, more enemies to my nature than fire,
or the rack? Convenie à litibus quantum licet, et
nescio an paulò plus etiam quàm licet, abhorrentum
esse. Est enim non modò liberale paululum nonnun-
quam de suo jure decedere, sed interdum etiam fruc-
tuosum:† "A man should be an enemy to all con-
"tention as much as he lawfully may, and for ought
"I know something more: for it is not only gene-
' rous, but sometimes also advantageous, to recede
"a little from one's right." Were we wise, we
ought to rejoice and boast, as I one day heard a
young gentleman of a good family very innocently
do, that his mother had lost her trial, as if it had
been a cough, a fever, or something very trouble-
some to keep: even the favours that fortune might
have given me through relations, or acquaintance
with persons who have great interest, I have very
conscientiously waved, and very carefully avoided
employing them to the prejudice of others, and of
advancing my pretensions above their true value.
In fine, I have so much prevailed by my endeavours,
in a happy hour I may speak it, that I am at this
day a virgin from all suits in law; though I have
had very
fair offers made me, and with a very just
title, would I have hearkened to them; and a vir-
gin from quarrels too. I have almost passed over a
long life without any offence of moment, either ac-
tive or passive, or without ever hearing a worse
word than my own
my own name : a rare favour of
The most
violent pas-
sions raised
heaven.
Our greatest agitations arise from ridiculous mo-
tives and causes. What ruin did our last duke of
* Mr. Ogilby.
+ Cic. de Offic. lib. ii. c. 8.
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
297
*
Burgundy run into by a quarrel about a cart-load offrom tri-
sheep skins? And was not the graving of a seal the fling causes.
first and principal cause of the greatest commotion
that this machine of the world ever underwent ?†
for Pompey and Cæsar are but the off-sets and slips
of the two others. And I have, in my time, seen
the wisest heads in this kingdom assembled with
great ceremony, and at the public expense, about
treaties and agreements, of which the true decision
absolutely depended upon a cabinet council of la-
dies, and the inclination of some foolish woman.
The poets had a right notion of this, when they put
all Greece and Asia to fire and sword for an apple.
Inquire why such a man stakes his life and honour
upon the fortune of his rapier and dagger: let him
acquaint you with the occasion of the quarrel; he
cannot do it without blushing, it is so idle and fri-
volous.
delibera-
engage in
quarrels,
A little thing will do at setting off; but, being The ne-
once embarked, all cords draw; great provisions are cessity of
then required, more hard, and more important. tion be-
How much easier is it not to enter in, than it is to fore we
get out? Now, we should proceed contrary to the affairs, es-
reed, which, at its first springing, produces a long pecially
and straight stalk, but afterwards, as if tired and out
of breath, it runs into thick and frequent knots, as
so many pauses; which demonstrates that it has no
more its first vigour and constancy. It were better
to begin fair and softly, and to keep a man's breath
and vigorous efforts for the height and stress of the
business. We guide affairs in their beginnings, and
have them then in our own power; but afterwards
when they are in motion, it is they that guide and
govern us, and we are to follow them. Yet I pre-
tend not hereby to say, that this counsel has dis-
charged me of all difficulty, and that I have not
* See the Memoirs of Philip de Comines, lib. v. cap. 1.
†The civil war between Marius and Sylla. See Plutarch, in the
life of Marius, chap. 3 of Amyot's translation.
298
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
}
Most ac-
tions of our
are scanda
lous.
often had enough to do to curb and restrain my pas-
sions. They are not always to be governed accord-
ing to the measure of occasions, and the entrance on
them is often sharp and violent; so it is, that there-
by much may be saved and got; except for those,
who in well-doing are not satisfied with any benefit,
if reputation be wanting: for, in truth, such an ef
fect is of no estimation but by every one to himself.
You are better contented with it, but not more es-
teemed; seeing you reformed yourself before you
had the subject in view. Yet not in this only, but
in all other duties of life, the way of those who aim
at honour, is very different from that they proceed
by, who propose to themselves order and reason.
I find some who rashly and furiously rush into the
lists, and cool in the course. As Plutarch says, that
as those, who through false modesty are soft and
ready to grant whatever is desired of them, are after-
wards as apt to break their word, and to recant; so
likewise he who enters lightly into a quarrel, is subject
to go as lightly out. The same difficulty that keeps
me from entering into it, would, when I am once
provoked and warmly engaged in it, spur me to
maintain it with great obstinacy. It is the ty-
ranny of custom, that, when a man is once engaged,
he must persist, or die. "Undertake coldly," said
Bias, "but pursue with ardour."* For want of pru-
dence, men grow faint-hearted, which is still more
intolerable.
Most accommodations of the quarrels of these
commoda- days are shameful and false; we only seek to save
quarrels appearances, and in the mean time betray and dis-
avow our true intentions. We put a gloss on the
fact. We know very well how we said the thing,
and in what sense we spoke it, and both all the com-
pany, and our friends, whom we would make sensible
of our advantage, understand it well enough too.
It is at the expense of our liberty, and the honour
* Diogenes Laert. in the Life of Bias, lib. i. sect. 87.
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
299
of our courage, that we disown our thoughts, and
seek subterfuge in falsehoods to make us friends.
We give ourselves the lie, to excuse the lie we have
given to another. You are not to consider, if your
word or action may admit of another interpretation;
it is your own true and sincere interpretation that
you are thenceforward to maintain, whatever it cost
you. Men speak to your virtue and conscience,
which are not things to be disguised. Let us leave
these pitiful ways and expedients to the chicanery of
the courts of law. The apologies and satisfactions
that I see every day made to excuse indiscretion,
seem to me more scandalous than the indiscretion
itself. It were better to affront your adversary a
second time, than to offend yourself by giving him
so unmanly a satisfaction. You have braved him in
your anger, and you go to appease and wheedle him
in your cooler and better sense, and by that means
lay yourself lower than you set yourself up. I do
not think any thing a gentleman can say so vicious
in him, as unsaying what he has said is infamous,
when he is forced to unsay it by authority; foras-
much as obstinacy is more excusable in such a man
than pusillanimity. Passions are as easy for me to
avoid, as they are hard for me to moderate. Exscin-
duntur facilius animo, quam temperantur: “ They
ἐσ are more easily eradicated than to be governed.
Who cannot attain to this noble stoical impassibility,
let him secure himself in the bosom of this popular
stupidity of mine. What those great souls perform-
ed by their virtue, I inure myself to do by constitu-
tion. The middle region harbours tempests; the
two extremes of philosophers and peasants concur in
tranquillity and happiness:
Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas ;
Atque metus omnes, et inexorabile fatum
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumqué Acherontis avari.
Fortunatus et ille, Deos qui novit agrestes,
Panaque, Sylvanumque senem, Nymphasque sorores.*
* Virgil. Georg. lib. ii. ver. 490.
300
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
What
others as
well as
himself
his con-
duct while
he was
Bour-
deaux.
Happy the man who, vers'd in nature's laws,
Of her effects can trace the wondrous cause;
Who without fear his certain fate can meet,
And trample death itself beneath his feet;
And happy he who haunts the rural gods,
Pan and Sylvanus, and the nymphs' abodes.*
The births of all things are weak and tender, and
therefore are we to have an eye to their beginnings;
for as when in their infancy the danger is not. per-
ceived, so when it is grown up, the remedy is no
more to be found. I had every day encountered a
million of crosses, harder to digest in the progress of
my ambition, than it was for me to curb the natural
propensity that inclined me to it:
Jure perhorrui,
Latè conspicuum tolere verticem.+
Well might thy friend be shy,
To raise his head too high.‡
All public actions are subject to various and un-
certain interpretations, for too many heads judge of
Montaigne them. Some say of this city-employment of mine
thought of (and I am willing to say a word or two of it, not that
it is worth so much, but to give an account of my
manners in such things), that I behaved myself in it
mayor of like a man not easy to be moved, and with a languid
affection: and they have some colour for what they
say. I endeavour to keep my mind and my thoughts
in repose. Cum semper naturâ, tum etiam ætate jàm
quietus: "As being always quiet by nature, so also
now by age. If they sometimes launch out
upon some rude and sensible impression, it is in
truth without my advice. Yet from this natural de-
cay of my spirits men ought not to conclude a total
inability in me (for want of care, and want of sense,
are two things), and much less any slight or ingrati-
tude towards that corporation, who did their utmost
to oblige me, both before they knew me and after.
And they did much more for me in choosing me
66
* Mr. Benson.
الي
وو
Sir Rich. Fanshaw.
† Hor. lib. iii, ode 16, ver. 18,
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
301
1
-
anew, than in conferring that honour upon me at
first; I wish them all the good that can be. And
doubtless, upon occasion, there is nothing I would
have spared for their service; I exerted myself as
much for them as I would have done for myself.
They are a good, warlike, and generous people, but
capable of obedience and discipline, and of whom.
good use may be made, if they are well guided.
They say also, that my administration was passed
over without any action of importance. It is true:
they moreover accuse my indolence in a time when
every body almost was convinced of doing too
much. I am impatient to be doing where my will
spurs me on, but this point is an enemy to per-
severance. Whoever will make use of me, accord-
ing to my own way, let him employ me in affairs
where vigour and liberty are required; where a di-
rect, short, and a hazardous conduct are necessary,
I perhaps may do something; but if it must be long,
subtle, laborious, artificial, and intricate, they had
better apply to somebody else. All important
offices are not difficult: I was prepared for work a
little more rough, had there been great occasion; for
it is in my power to do something more than I do,
and than I love to do; I did not, to my knowledge,
omit any thing that my duty really required; it is
true, that I easily forgot those offices that ambition
mixes with duty, and gilds with its title. Those are
they, that for the most part engross the eyes and
and ears,
and give men the most satisfaction. Not the thing,
but the appearance contents them. They think men
sleep if they hear no noise. My humour is an enemy
to tumult. I could appease a riot without disturb-
ing myself, and chastise a disorder without many
words. If I stand in need of anger and inflamma-
tion, I borrow it, and put it on as a mask; my de-
portment is dull, rather faint than sharp. I do not
condemn a magistrate that sleeps, provided the peo-
ple under his charge sleep as well as he: the laws
in that case sleep too. For my part, I commend a
4
302
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
smooth, solitary, and silent life. Neque submissam,
et abjectam, neque se efferentem :* « A life equally
"free from meanness and insolence." My fortune
requires it to be such. I am descended from a
family that has lived without lustre or tumult, and
time out of mind particularly ambitious of valour
and sincerity. Our people now-a-days are so bred
up to bustle and ostentation, that good-nature, mo-
deration, equity, constancy, and such quiet and ob-
scure qualities, are no longer regarded. Rough
bodies are easily felt, the smooth ones scarce at all.
Sickness is felt, health little, if at all, no more than
the oils that foment us, in comparison of the pains
that torment us. It is acting for a man's reputation
and particular profit, not for the public weal, to
refer that to be done in the forum, which a man may
as well do in the council-chamber; to put off to
noon-day, what might have been done the night be-
fore; and to be zealous to do that himself which his
colleague can do as well as he. So some surgeons
of Greece performed their operations upon scaffolds,
in the sight of the people, to draw more practice and
custom. They think that good rules cannot be un-
derstood but by the sound of trumpet. Ambition is
not a vice of little people, and of such abilities as
ours. One said to Alexander, your father will leave
you a great dominion, easy and peaceable; this
youth was emulous of his father's victories, and the
justice of his government, and did not wish to have
enjoyed the empire of the world in ease and peace.
Alcibiades, in Plato, had rather die exceeding young,
beautiful, rich, noble, and learned, than to continue
in such an effeminate state. This disease is perhaps
excusable in so strong and so capacious a mind.
When these poor mean souls enlarge themselves, and
think to spread their fame, for having given right
judgment in an affair, or continued the discipline of
keeping the guard of a gate of their city; the more
* Cic. de Offic. lib. i. cap. 34.
OF MANAGING THE WILL,
303
they think to exalt their heads, the more they show
their tails.
This little well-doing has neither body
nor life; it vanishes in the first mouth, and goes no
farther than from one street to another. Talk of it
in God's name to your son, or your servant; like
that old fellow, who, having no other auditor of his
praises, nor commender of his valour, boasted to his
chamber-maid, crying out, O Perret, what a gallant
brave man hast thou to thy master! At the worst
talk of it to yourself like a counsellor of my ac
quaintance, who, having disgorged a whole bundle of
law cases, full of paragraphs, with very great heat,
and as great folly, coming out of the council-cham-
ber to the pissing-place, was heard very conscien-
tiously to mutter between his teeth, Non nobis,
Domine, non nobis, sed nomini tuo da gloriam:
"Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy
"name be the glory." He who can get it of no-
body else, may pay himself out of his own purse.
Fame is not prostituted at so cheap a rate. Rare
and exemplary actions, to which it is due, would not
endure the company of this prodigious crowd of
little temporary performances. Marble may exalt
your titles as much as you please, for having repaired
a rood of a ruinous wall, or cleansed a public aque-
duct; but no men of sense will do it. Renown does
not attend every good deed, if novelty and difficulty
be not conjoined in it. Nay, so much as mere esti-
mation, according to the Stoics, is not due to every
action that proceeds from virtue; neither will they
allow him so much as thanks, who out of temperance
forbears to meddle with any old blear-eyed hag.
Such as have known the admirable qualities of Sci-
pio Africanus, deny him the glory that Panatius
attributes to him, of being abstinent from gifts, as a
glory not so much his, as that of the age he lived in.
We have pleasures suitable to our fortunes, let us not
usurp those of grandeur. Our own are more natu-
ral, and by so much more solid and sure, as they are
more low. If not for that of conscience, yet at
304
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
66
least for ambition's sake, let us reject ambition, let us
disdain that thirst of honour and renown, so low and
beggarly, that it makes us ask it as an alms from all
sorts of people: Quæ est ista laus quæ possit è ma-
cello peti?*" What praise is that which is to be
got at the shambles ?" by abject means, and at any
cheap rate soever. To be so honoured is dishonour.
Let us learn to be no more greedy, than we are ca-
pable of honour. To be puffed up with every action
that is innocent, or of use, is only for those with
whom such deeds are extraordinary and rare; they
will value it as it costs them. How much more a
good effect makes a noise, so much I abate of the
goodness of it; and suspect that it was more per-
formed to be talked of, than upon the account of its
goodness: being exposed upon the stall, it is half
sold. Those actions have much more grace, that
slip from the hand of the performer negligently, and
without noise; and which some honest man after-
wards chooses out, and raises from the shade, to pro-
duce it to the light for their own sakes. The vainest
man in the world said, Mihi quidem laudabiliora viden-
tur omnia, quæ sive venditatione, et sine populo teste
fiunt :†“ All things truly seem more laudable to me,
"that are performed without ostentation, and with-
❝out the testimony of the people." I had nothing
to do but to preserve and to continue, which are
silent and sensible effects. Innovation is of great
lustre; but it is interdicted at this time, when we are
pressed upon, and have nothing to defend ourselves
from but novelties. To forbear doing, is often as
generous as to do, but it is not so conspicuous: and
the little good I have in me is almost entirely of this
kind. In fine, occasions in this employment of
mine, have been consistent with my humour, and I
thank them for it. Is there any one who desires to be
sick for the sake of seeing his physician employed?
* Cicero de Fin. Bon. et Mal. lib. xi. cap. 15.
+ Cicero Tusc. Quæst. lib. ii. cap. 26.
OF MANAGING THE WILL.
305
+
And should not that physician be whipped, who
wished the plague amongst us, that he might put his
art in practice? I was never of that wicked hu-
mour, though common enough, to desire that the
trouble and disorders of this city should set off and
do honour to my government; I heartily contributed
all I could to their tranquillity and ease.
He who
will not thank me for the order, the sweet and silent
calm that accompanied my administration, cannot
however deprive me of the share of it that belongs
to me by the title of my good fortune. I am of
such a composition, that I would as willingly be
happy as wise; and had rather owe my successes
purely to the favour of Almighty God, than to any
operation of my own. I had sufficiently published
to the world my unfitness for such public offices;
but I have something in me yet worse than incapa-
city; which is, that I am not much displeased at it,
and that I do not much go about to cure it, consider-
ing the course of life that I have proposed to myself.
Neither have I satisfied myself in this employment,
but I have very near arrived at what I expected from
my own performance, and yet have much surpassed
what I promised them with whom I had to do: for I
am apt to promise something less than what I am
able to perform, and than what I hope to make good.
I assure myself that I have left no impressions of
offence or hatred behind me, and that I will leave a
regret or desire of me amongst them. I at least
know very well that I never much affected it.
Méne huic confidere monstro,
Méne salis placidi vultum, fluctusque quietos
Ignorare ?**
Me dost thou bid to trust the treach'rous deep!
Her harlot smiles shall I believe again,
And oft betray'd, not know the monster main ?
Virg. Æneid. lib. v. ver. 849. ·
VOL. ILI.
X
306
OF CRIPPLES:
The
cut ten
year
days
shorter.
CHAPTER X.
Of Cripples.
IT is now two or three years ago that they made
the year ten days shorter in France. How many
changes may we expect to follow this reformation?
This was properly removing heaven and earth at
once; and yet nothing stirs from its place: my
neighbours still find their seasons of sowing and
reaping, and of trading, together with the lucky and
unlucky days, just at the same instant, where they
had time out of mind assigned them. There was no
error perceived in our old usage, nor is there amend-
ment found in the new. So great an uncertainty
there is throughout; so gross, obscure, and dull is
our perception! It is said, that this regulation might
have been carried on with less inconvenience, by
subtracting for some years, according to the example
of Augustus, the Bissextile, which is upon the whole
a day of hindrance and confusion, till we had exactly
satisfied that debt; which is not performed neither
by this correction, and we yet remain some days in
arrear: and surely by the same means care might be
taken for the future, by ordering, that after the revo-
lution of such a year, or such a number of years,
this supernumerary day might be always eclipsed, so
that we could not henceforward exceed four-and-
twenty hours in our misreckoning. We have no
other account of time but years; the world has for
many ages made use of that only, and yet it is a
measure that to this day we have not fixed upon;
such a one, that we still doubt what form other na-
tions have variously given to it, and what was the
true use of it. What does this saying of some
mean, “That the heavens, in growing old, press
"nearer towards us, and put us to an uncertainty
even of hours and days? And that which Plu-

"C
OF CRIPPLES.
307
"tarch says of the months, that astrology had not,
" in his time, determined the motion of the moon?"
So, what a fine condition are we in to keep records
of things past!
of the hu-
ing, which
causes of a
certainty
I was just now ruminating, as I often do, what a The vanity
free and roving thing human reason is. I ordinarily man un-
see, that men, in things proposed to them, are derstand-
more curious to find out the reason of a thing, than often seeks
to find out the truth of it. They slip over supposi- for the
tions, but nicely examine consequences. They fact, before
leave the things, and fly to the causes. Pleasant dis- there is a
putants! The knowledge of causes only concerns of such
him who has the conduct of things, not us, who are fact.
only to undergo them, and who have a full and
complete use of them according to our need, with
out penetrating into their original and essence.
Neither is wine more pleasant to him that knows its
first qualities. On the contrary, both the body and
soul alter and interrupt the right they have of the
use of the world, and of themselves, by mixing
with it in the opinion of learning. Effects concern
us, but the means not at all. To determine and to
distribute appertain to the superior and the governor,
as it does to the subject and the learner to accept it.
Let me resume our custom. They commonly be
gin thus: "How is such a thing done?" Whereas
they should say, "Is such a thing done?" By our
talk we are able to create a hundred other worlds,
and to find out the beginnings and contexture; it
needs neither matter nor foundation. Let the
tongue run, it builds as well in a vacuum as on the
earth; and with inanity as well as matter :
Dare pondus idonea fumo.*
And can give weight to smoke.
:
I find, that almost throughout we should say,
"there is no such thing;" and would myself oft
make use of this answer, but I dare not; for they
* Persius, sat. v. ver. 20.
x 2
308
OF CRIPPLES.
dit false
ed in the
world.
cry, it is a defect produced from ignorance and
weakness of understanding. And I am forced, for
the most part, to play the impertinent for company,
and to prate of frivolous and idle subjects, of which
I believe not a word. Besides, in truth, it is a lit-
tle rude flatly to deny a proposition; and there are
few people but will affirm, especially in things hard
to be believed, that they have seen them, or at least
will name such witnesses whose authority stops our
contradiction. By this means we know the founda-
tions and means of a thousand things that never
were; and the world scolds about a thousand ques-
tions, of which the pro and con are both false. Ita
finitima sunt falsa veris, ut in præcipitem locum non
debeat se sapiens committere :* "False things are so
"like the true, that a wise man should not trust him-
"self upon the precipice." Truth and lies have the
same aspect, their port, taste, and paces are the same,
and we look upon them with the same eye. I find
that we are not only remiss in defending ourselves
from deceit, but we seek and offer ourselves to be
gulled; we love to entangle ourselves in vanity, as a
thing conformable to our being.
What cre- I have seen the birth of many miracles of my
miracles time, which although they were still-born, yet have
have gain- we not failed to foresee what they would have come
to, had they lived. It is but finding the end of the
clue, and a man may wind off as much as he will;
and there is a greater distance between nothing, and
the minutest thing in the world, than there is be-
tween that and the greatest. Now, the first that are
tinctured with this beginning of novelty, when they
set out their history, find, by the opposition they
meet with, where the difficulty of persuasion lies,
and caulk that place with some false piece. Besides
that, Insita hominibus libidine alendi de industria ru-
mores: "Men having a natural lust to propagate
"reports," we naturally make a conscience of re-
*Cic. Acad. Quæst. lib. iv. cap. 21.
OF CRIPPLES.
309
•
•
"
storing what has been lent us, without some usury
and addition of our own invention. Private error first
creates public error; and afterwards, in turn, public
error causes a particular one; thus all this fabric rises
by patchwork from hand to hand, so that the remotest
witness knows more than those that are nearest; and
the last informed is more certain than the first. It
is a natural progress; for whoever believes any
thing, thinks it a work of charity to persuade ano-
ther into the same opinion. Which the better to do,
he will make no difficulty of adding as much of his
own invention, as he conceives necessary to obviate
the resistance or want of conception he supposes in
others. I myself, who make a particular conscience
of lying, and am not very solicitous of gaining credit
and authority to what I say, yet find, that in the ar-
guments I have in hand, being warmed with the op-
position of another, or by the proper heat of my
own narration, I swell and puff up my subject by
voice, motion, vigour, and force of words; and like-
wise by extension and amplification; not without
prejudice to the naked truth: but I do it on condi-
tion nevertheless, that to the first who brings me to
recollection, and who asks me the plain and real
truth, I presently surrender, and deliver it to him
without exaggeration, without emphasis, or any in-
terlarding of my own. A quick and earnest way
of speaking, as mine is, is apt to run into hyperbole.
There is nothing to which men commonly are more
inclined, than to give way to their own opinions.
-Where the ordinary means fail us, we add command
and force, fire and sword. It is a misfortune to be
at that pass, that the best touchstone of the truth,
must be the multitude of believers, in a crowd,
where the number of fools so much exceeds the
wise. Quasi vero quidquam sit tam valde, quam nihil
sapere, vulgare. Sanitatis patrocinium est, insanien-
tium turba:* "As if any thing were so common as
* Cic. de Div. lib. ii. cap. 39. Item Aug. de Civit. Dei, lib. vi
cap. 10.
1
310
OF CRIPPLES.
“
ignorance. The mob of fools is a protection to the
"wise." It is hard for a man to form his judgment
against the common opinions. The first persuasion
taken of the very subject itself, possesses the simple,
and from that it spreads to the wise, by the autho-
rity of the number and antiquity of the witnesses.
For my part, what I would not believe from one, I
would not believe from a hundred; and I do not
judge of opinions by the years. It is not long since
one of our princes, in whom the gout has spoiled an
excellent natural genius, and sprightly disposition,
suffered himself to be so far persuaded with the re-
A priest port of the wonderful operations of a certain priest,
that cured who by words and gestures cured all sorts of dis-
diseases by eases, as to go a long journey to seek him out; and
words and by the force of his apprehension for some time, so
all sorts of
gestures.
How it
be so diffi-
persuaded and laid his legs asleep for several hours
as to obtain that service from them which they had
a long time left off. Had fortune packed together
five or six such accidents, it had been enough to
have brought this miracle into nature. There was
after this discovered so much simplicity, and so little
art in the architect of such operations, that he was
thought too contemptible to be punished; as would
be the case of most such things, were they examined
to the bottom. Miramur ex intervallo fallentia :
"We admire at things that deceive by their dis-
"tance." So does our sight oft represent to us
strange images at a distance, that vanish in ap-
proaching them near. Nunquam ad liquidam fama
perducitur: « Fame never reports things in their
:†
"true light."
.*
It is to be wondered at, from how many idle be-
comes to ginnings and frivolous causes such famous impres-
cult a mat- sions commonly proceed. This it is that obstructs
the information; for whilst we seek out the causes,
that a mi-and the great and weighty ends, worthy of so great
racle is a name, we lose the true ones. They escape our
convinced
false.
*Senec. ep. 118.
+ Qu. Curtius, lib. ix. cap. 2:
OF CRIPPLES.
311
sight by their littleness: and, in truth, a prudent,
diligent, and subtle inquirer is necessary in such
searches; one who is indifferent and not prepossessed..
To this very hour all these miracles and strange What Mon-
events have concealed themselves from me; 1 have taigne
never seen a more evident monster of miracle in the clearest of
thought the
world than myself: a man grows familiar with all miracles.
strange things by time and custom; but the more I
visit and the better I know myself, the more does
my own deformity astonish me, and the less I un-
derstand of myself.
miracle's
credit,
very weak
tion.
The chief prerogative of advancing and producing Story of a
such accidents, is reserved to fortune. Riding the very near
other day through a village, about two leagues from gaining
my house, I found the place yet hot with the rumour though
of a miracle lately wrought there, wherewith the built on a
neighbourhood had been several months amused, so founda-
that neighbouring provinces began to take the
alarm, and there was a vast concourse to it of all sorts
of people. A young fellow of the town, had one
night counterfeited the voice of a spirit in his own
house, without any other design, but only for pre-
sent sport; but this having succeeded with him a
little better than he expected, in order to illustrate
his farce with more actors, he took a stupid silly
country girl into the scene, and at last they were
three of the same age and understanding, who from
domestic lectures, proceeded to publie preaching,
hiding themselves under the altar of the church,
never speaking but by night, and forbidding any
light to be brought. From words which tended to
the conversion of the world, and threats of the day
of judgment (for these are subjects under the autho-
rity and reverence of which imposture lies most se-
curely concealed), they proceeded to visions and ges-
tures, so simple and ridiculous, that nothing could hard-
ly be so gross in the diversion of little children: yet.
had fortune never so little favoured the design, who
knows to what height this juggling might have at
last arrived? These poor devils are at present in
312
OF CRIPPLES.
The foun-
all the im-
prison, and are like to pay for their imposition on
the public, and I know not whether some judge
may not also make them smart for imposing on him.
We see clearly in this which is discovered; but in
many things of the like nature, that exceed our
knowledge, I am of opinion, that we ought to sus-
pend our judgment, and to keep it in a state as fit
to reject as to receive them.
Great abuse, or, to speak more boldly, all the
dation of abuses of the world are begot by our being taught
postures in to be afraid of professing our ignorance, and from
the world. our being bound to accept whatever we are not able
A kind of
much to be
"9
66
to confute. We speak of all things by precepts and
decision. The style of Rome was, that even that
which a witness deposed he had seen with his own
eyes, and what a judge determined from his most cer-
tain knowledge, was couched in this form of speak-
ing, "it seems. They make me hate things that
are likely, when they impose them upon me for infal-
lible. I love those words which mollify and mode-
rate the temerity of our propositions, perhaps, in
"some sort, some say, I think," and the like: and
had I been to train up children, I would have so fa-
miliarised them to the interrogatory and not peremp-
tory way of answering, "what does this mean? I
"understand it not; it may be; is it true?" that
they should rather have retained the form of pupils
at threescore years old, than to go out doctors at
ten, as they now do. Whoever will be cured of ig-
norance, must confess it.
Iris is the daughter of Thaumantis; admiration is
ignorance the foundation of all philosophy, inquiry the pro-
estcened, gress, and ignorance the end. Nay in truth, there
is a sort of ignorance strong and generous, that
yields nothing in honour and courage to know-
fedge; and ignorance, of which to conceive, re-
quires no less knowledge than to conceive of know-
ledge itself. I saw in my younger years, a process
which Corras a counsellor of Tholouse published, of
a strange accident of two men, who presented them-
OF CRIPPLES,
313
selves the one for the other. I remember (and I
hardly remember any thing so well) that he seemed
to have rendered the imposture of him whom he
judged to be guilty, so wonderful, and so far ex-
ceeding both our knowledge and his own, who was
the judge, that I thought it a very bold sentence
which condemned him to be hanged. Let us take
up some form of arrest, that says, "The court un-
"derstands nothing of the matter;" more freely and
ingenuously than the Areopagites did, who, finding
themselves perplexed with a cause they could not
unravel, ordered the parties to appear again after a
hundred years,
from the
the sacred
pcan be in
such mo-
The witches of my neighbourhood run a hazard Whether
of their lives, upon the intelligence of every new miracles
author, that gives a real substance to their dreams. reported in
To accommodate the examples that holy writ gives scriptures
us of such things, examples that are most certain any
and irrefragable, and to make our modern events of ferred in
the same kind, as we neither see their causes nor favour of
their means, will require another sort of wit than dernevents,
ours. It perhaps only appertains to that most po-
tent testimony, to tells us, "This is true, and that
"is true, and not that other." God ought to be
believed, and certainly with very good reason; but
not one amongst us, for all that, who is astonished
at his own narration (and he must of necessity be
astonished, if he be not out of his wits), whether he
employ it in the case of another, or against himself.
Montaigne
determine
any thing,
I am plain and blunt, and am inclined to that As to
which is solid and more likely, avoiding those ancient witches
reproaches, Majorem fidem homines adhibent eis quæ refused to
non intelligunt. Cupidine humani ingenii libentius
obscura creduntur:* " Men are most apt to believe and treated
"obscure things and what they least understand." most of the
I see very well that men are angry, and that I am cerning
forbidden to doubt upon pain of execrable injuries. chimeras,
A new way of persuading! God forgive them. I
* Tacit. Hist. lib. i, cap. 22.
stories con
them as
314
OF CRIPPLES.
am not to be cuffed into belief. Let them be angry
with those that accuse their opinion of falsity, I only
accuse it of difficulty and boldness; and condemn
the opposite affirmation equally with them, though
not so imperiously. He who establishes his argu-
ment by authority and hectoring, discovers his rea-
son to be weak, for a verbal and scholastic alterca-
tion, let them have as much appearance as their con-
tradictors. Videantur sanè, non affirmentur modò :*
"Be the things thatare advanced probable, well and
"good; provided they are not absolutely affirmed."
But in the real consequence they draw from it,
these have much the advantage. To convince men,
a clear and shining light is required. Our life is too
real and essential a thing to warrant those superna-
tural and fantastic accidents. As to drugs and
poisons, I throw them out of my account, as being
the worst sorts of homicide: yet even in this, it is
said, that men are not always to insist upon the proper
confessions of these people; for men have sometimes
been known to accuse themselves of the murder of
persons who, have afterwards been found living and
well. In these other extravagant accusations, I would
be apt to say, it is sufficient that a man, what recom-
mendation soever he may have, be believed in hu-
man things; but of what is beyond his conception,
and of a supernatural effect, he ought then only to
be believed, when it is authorised by a supernatural
approbation. The privilege it has pleased God to
give to some of our testimonies, ought not to be
lightly communicated and made cheap. I have my
ears battered with a thousand such flim flams as
these. "Three saw him such a day in the east;
"three the next day in the west: at such an hour,
"in such a place, and in such a habit." In earnest
I would not take my own word for it. How much
more natural and likely do I find it that two men
should lie, than that one man, in twelve hours' time,
* Çic. Acad. Quæst. lib. iv. cap. 37.
OF CRIPPLES.
315
should fly with the wind from east to west? /How
much more natural, that our understanding should
be perverted by the volubility of our disordered
minds, than it is that one of us should be carried,
by a strange spirit, upon a broomstick, flesh and
bones, as we are, up the shaft of a chimney? Let us
not seek delusions that are external and unknown,
we who are perpetually agitated with delusions that
are domestic and our own. Methinks a man is par-
donable in disbelieving a miracle, as far at least as
he can
divert and expunge the verification of it by
no wonderful ways. And I am of St. Augustine's
opinion, that it is better to lean towards doubt than
assurance, in things hard to prove, and dangerous
to believe. It is now some years ago, that I tra-
velled through the territories of a sovereign prince,
who, in my favour, and to abate my incredulity, did
me the honour to let me see, in his own presence,
and in a particular place, ten or twelve prisoners of
this kind: and amongst others, an old hag, a real
witch in nastiness and deformity, who long had been
famous in that profession. I saw both proofs and Witch
free confessions, and I know not what unaccounta-marks
ble mark upon this miserable old creature: I ex-
amined and talked with her, and the rest, as much
and as long as I would, and gave the utmost atten-
tion I could; neither am I a man to suffer my judg-
ment to be captivated by prepossession; but upon
the whole in my conscience I would sooner have
prescribed them hellebore than hemlock. Captisque
res magis mentibus, quam consceleratis similis visa :*
"The thing seemed rather to be attributed to mad-
❝ness than malice." Justice has correction proper
for such maladies. As to the oppositions and
arguments that I have met with from honest
men, both there and oft in other places, I have
found none that have convinced me, and that have
not admitted a more likely solution than their
conclusions. It is true indeed, that, as to proofs
* Livius.
316
OF CRIPPLES.
Ile is in-
duced to
brained;
but does
that his
word
should be
it.
and reasons that are founded upon experience and
matter of fact, I do not unhinge them, neither have
they any end. I often cut them, as Alexander did
the Gordian knot. After all, it is setting a man's
conjectures up at a very high price, to cause a man
to be roasted alive for them.
We are told by several examples (and particularly
think that by Præstantius* of his father) that being more
witches are drowned in sleep than men generally are, he fan-
crack- cied himself to be a beast of burden, and that he
served the soldiers for a sumpter-horse; and what
not pretend he fancied himself to be, he really proved. If
witches dream so materially, if dreams can some-
taken for times so incorporate themselves in the effects, I can-
not believe that therefore our wills should be ac-
countable to justice; which I say, as a man, who am
neither judge nor privy counsellor, and who think
myself by many degrees unworthy so to be; but a
man of the common sort born, and devoted to the
obedience of the public reason, both in his words
and actions. He that would quote my whimsies to
the prejudice of the most paltry law, opinion, and
custom of his parish, would do himself a great deal
of wrong, and me much more. For in what I say,
I warrant no other certainty, but that it is what I
* After a fruitless search to find out who were this Præstantius
and his father, I was informed by M. de la Monnoye, whom no-
thing escapes. He referred me to the tract de Civitate Dei, lib.xviii.
cap. 18, where St. Augustine reports the fact as follows, viz. One
Præstantius said, that his father having eaten some cheese in which
there had been a spell, sleeped several days in his bed so sound that
none could awake him, till the lethargy going off, he told the vi-
sions he had had, viz. that he was turned into a horse, and that in
this shape he had served the soldiers for a sumpter-horse, which,
says St. Augustine, actually happened as he related it. The holy fa-
ther is of opinion, that in cases of this sort the devil presents to
the spectators a visionary body which they take for a real animal, a
horse, an ass, &c. and that the man who imagines himself to be that
ass, or that horse, thinks he carries a real burden, as much as it was
possible for him to fancy it in a dream; so that if such phantom of
an animal carries real bodies, they are the Dæmons who carry them
in order to deceive men, who then see real bodies or the back of a
sumpter-horse, which is a mere phantom.

OF CRIPPLES.
317
1
*
had then in my thought. Confused and wavering
thought. All I say is by way of discourse, and no-
thing by way of advice. Nec me pudet, ut istos,
fateri nescire, quod nesciam: "Neither am I
ashamed, as they are, to confess my ignorance
of what I do not know." I would not speak
so boldly, if it were my due to be believed. And
so I told a great man, who complained of the
tartness of my exhortations. Perceiving you to be
positive on one side of the question, I propose to
you the other, with all the care I can, to clear your
judgment, not to bind it. God has your heart in
his hands, and will furnish you with the choice. I
am not so presumptuous as to desire that my opi-
nions should bias you in a thing of so great impor-
tance. My fortune has not trained them up to such
potent and sublime conclusions. Truly I have not
only a great many humours, but also a great many
opinions, that I would endeavour to make my son
dislike, if I had one. Why? even the truest are
not always the most commodious to man, he is of so
wild a composition.
:
Whether it be to the purpose, or not, it is no Reflection
great matter. It is a common proverb in Italy,
• old pro-
on a very
That he knows not all the pleasures of Venus to verb.
"perfection, who has never lain with a cripple."
Fortune, or some particular accident, has long ago
put this saying into the mouths of the people; and
the same is said of men as well as of women; for
the queen of the Amazons answered a Scythian who
courted her to love, gisa xonòs oiçe, "Lame men Lame peo-
οἰφεῖ,
"perform best." In that feminine republic, to ple best at
evade the dominion of the males, they lamed them of Venus.
in their infancy, in their arms, legs, and the other
joints that gave them advantage over the females, and
only made use of them in that affair wherein we in
these parts of the world make use of the sex. I would
have been apt to think that the wriggling motion of
* Cic. Tusc, Quæst. lib. i. cap. 25.
the sport.
C
318
OF CRIPPLES.
Women
weavers
more lust-
ful than
other wo-
men.
The mind
of man
forges the
merical
reasons.
the lame mistress added some new pleasure to the
affair, and a certain titillation to those who are en-
gaged in it; but I have lately learned, that ancient
philosophy has itself determined it, which says, that
the legs and thighs of lame persons, not receiving,
by reason of their imperfection, their due aliment,
it falls out, that the genital parts above are fuller,
better supplied, and more vigorous. Or else, that
this defect hindering exercise, they who suffer it
are at less expense of their spirits, and come more
entire to the sports of Venus; which also is the
reason why the Greeks decried the women weavers,
as being more hot than other women by reason of
the sedentary occupation, which they have without
any great exercise of the body. What is it we
may not reason of at this rate? I might also say
of these, that this jogging on their seats, whilst
they are at work, rouzes and provokes their desire,
as the swinging and jolting of their coaches does that
of our ladies of quality.
Do not these examples serve to make good what
I said at first, that our reasons often anticipate the
most chi- effect, and have so infinite an extent of jurisdiction,
that they judge and exercise themselves, even in
inanity and non-existence? Besides the flexibility of
our invention to forge reasons for all sorts of dreams,
our imagination is equally ready to receive impres-
sions of falsity, by very frivolous appearances. For
by the sole authority of the ancient and common
use of this proverb, I have formerly made myself
believe, that I have had the more pleasure with a
woman by reason she was not straight, and accord.
ingly reckoned that deformity amongst her graces.
Contrary
causes as
signed to
Torquato Tasso,* in the comparison he makes
between France and Italy, says, he has observed,
that our legs are generally smaller than those of the
the same Italian gentlemen: and attributes the cause of it to
effect. our being continually on horseback. The very
one and
* Paragone dell' Italia alla Francia, p. 11.
OF CRIPPLES.
819
thing from which Suetonius* draws a conclusion
that is directly opposite; for he says on the contra-
ry, that Germanicus had made his legs bigger by the
continuation of the same exercise. Nothing is so
supple and wandering as our understanding. It is Therame
like the shoe of Theramenes, fit for all feet. It is nes' shoe.
double and various, as are also the subjects. "Give
66
me a dram-weight of silver," said a Cynic philo-
pher to Antigonus. "That is too little for a king to
"give," replied he. "Give me then a talent;" said
the other." And that," said the king, "is too
"much for a Cynic to ask."+
Seu plures calor ille vias, et cæca relaxat
Spiramenta, novas veniat qua succus in herbas :
Seu durat magis, et venas astringit hiantes,
Ne tenues pluviæ, rapidive potentia solis
Acrior, aut Borea penetrabile frigus adurat.‡
Virgil says, it is often proper to set fire to the fields,
and to burn the useless stubble.
Whether the heat the gaping ground constrains,
New knits the surface, and new strings the veins ;
Lest soaking show'rs should pierce her secret seat,
Or freezing Boreas chill her genial heat,
Or scorching suns too violently beat.
A
Ogni medaglia ha ill suo reverso:S "Every medal
has its reverse." This is the reason why Clito-
machus said of old, that Carneades had out-done the
labours of Hercules, in having eradicated from
the mind of man, its obstinacy and rashness of judg
ing. This so strong fancy of Carneades, sprung, in
my opinion, anciently from the impudence of those
who made profession of knowledge, and their un-
bounded self-conceit. Esop was set to sale with
two other slaves; the buyer asked the first, "What
"he could do;" who, to enhance his own value,
* Suetonius, in Vita Caligula, sect. 3.
Senec. de Benef. lib. ii. cap. 17,
Virg. Georg. lib i. ver 89, &c.
Cic. Acad. Quæst. lib, iv.
cap. 34.
12
$20
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
promised mountains and miracles, saying, "He
"could do this, and that, and I know not what ;"
the second boasted as much of himself and more:
when it came to Esop's turn, and that he was also
asked, "What he could do?" "Nothing," said he,
"for these two have taken up all before me; they
❝ can do every thing." So has it happened in the
school of philosophy. The pride of those who at
tributed a capacity for all things to human under-
standing, created in others, out of spite and emula-
tion, this opinion, that it is capable of nothing. The
one maintains the same extreme in ignorance as the
others do in knowledge; so that it is undeniable,
that man is immoderate throughout, and can never
stop but from necessity, and the want of ability to
proceed farther.
We admire
the dis-
courses of
Socrates
respect to
tion, with-
true value
CHAPTER XI.
Of Physiognomy.
ALMOST all the the opinions we have are de
rived from authority, and taken upon trust; and it
is not amiss. We could not choose worse than by
out of pure ourselves in so weak an age.. The representation of
the public Socrates's discourses, which his friends have trans-
approba mitted to us, we approve upon no other account,
out dis- but merely the reverence to public approbation. It
cerning the is not according to our knowledge; they are not
after our way. If any thing of this kind should
spring up now, few men would value them. We
discern not the beauties otherwise than by certain
features, touched up, and illustrated by art. Such
as glide on in their own genuine simplicity, easily
escape so gross a sight as ours: they have a delicate
and concealed beauty, and it requires the clearest
sight to discover so secret a light. Is not simplicity,
of them.
#
OF PHYSIOGNOMÝ.
321
in the sense we accept it, cousin-german to folly,
and a quality of reproach? Socrates makes his soul
move by a natural and common motion.
"A pea-
"sant said this, a woman said that;" he never has
any thing in his mouth, but carters, joiners, coblers,
and masons. They are inductions and similitudes
drawn from the most common and known actions of
men; every one understands them. We would
never have conceived the nobility and splendor of
his admirable conceptions under so vile a form; we,
I say,
who think all things low and flat, that are not
elevated by learning, and who discern no riches but
in pomp and show. This world is only formed for
ostentation. Men are only puffed up with wind, and
are bandied to and fro like tennis-balls. This man
proposed to himself no vain fancies; his design was
to furnish us with precepts and things that are really
and most immediately of service to life:
Servare modum, finemque tenere,
Naturamque sequi.*
To keep a mean, his end still to observe,
And from the laws of nature ne'er to swerve.
He was also always one and the same, and raised
himself not by starts, but by constitution, to the
highest pitch of vigour; or to say better, he exalted
nothing, but rather brought down and reduced all
asperities and difficulties to their original and natu-
ral condition, and subjected their power: for in Catoit
is most manifest, that this is a pace extended far above
the common ways of men. In the brave exploits of
his life, and in his death, we find him always mount-
ed upon his managed horses.
managed horses. Whereas this man al-
ways skims the ground, and with a gentle and ordi-
nary pace, delivers the most useful discourses, and
bears himself up through the most crabbed diffi-
culties that could occur in the course of human
life, even to death.
VOL. III.
-
* Lucan. lib. ii. ver. 381, 382.
Y
322
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
The cha-
racter of
Socrates,
as it is
It has fallen out well, that the man most worthy
to be known, and to be presented to the world for
example, is he of whom we have the most certain
given us by knowledge; for he has been pried into by the most
faithful and clear-sighted men that ever were. The testimonies
evidence we have of him are admirable both for their number
the clearest
Man inca-
moderation
science.
and credit. It is a great thing that he was able so
to order the pure imaginations of a child, that with-
out altering or wresting them, he has thereby pro-
duced the most beautiful effects of a human soul.
He presents it neither elevated nor rich, he only re-
presents it sound, but certainly with a brisk and
pure health. By these common and natural springs,
by these vulgar and ordinary fancies, without being
moved or provoked in the business, he drew up,
not only the most regular, but the most high and
vigorous beliefs, actions, and manners that ever
were. It is he who brought again from heaven,
where she lost time, human wisdom, to restore her to
man, with whom her most just and greatest business
lies. See him plead before his judges; do but ob-
serve by what reasons he rouses his courage to the
hazards of war; with what arguments he fortifies his
patience against calumny, tyranny, death, and the
perverseness of his wife: you will find nothing in all
this borrowed from art and the sciences. The simplest
may therefore discover their own means and power;
it is impossible to retire farther, or to creep more
low. He has done human nature a great favour in
showing how much it can do of itself.
We are all of us richer than we think we are; but
pable of we are taught to borrow and to beg, and brought
even with up more to make use of what is another's than our
regardto own.
Man can in nothing set bounds to his neces-
sity. Of pleasure, wealth, and power, he grasps at
more than he can hold; his greediness is incapable
of moderation. And I find that, in the curiosity of
knowing, he is the same; he cuts himself out more
work than he can execute, and more than he needs
to perform extending the utility of knowledge as
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
323
far as the matter. Ut omnium rerum, sic literarum
quoque, intemperantia laboramus :*
As of every
..
Cε
thing else, we are intemperate in the pursuit of
learning." Tacitus had reason to commend the
mother of Agricola,† for having restrained her son
in his too violent appetite for learning.
ous acqui-
is of abso-
nature.
It is a good, if duly considered, which has in it, Learning is
as the other goods of men have, a great deal of va- a danger-
nity, and of proper and natural weakness, and which sition.
costs very dear; the acquisition of it is more hazard-That which
ous than that of all other sustenance. For in other lute use is
things, what we have bought, we carry home in some in us by
vessel, and there have liberty to examine the worth
of it, how much and at what time we shall take it;
but the sciences we can bestow into no other vessel
than the soul; we swallow them in buying, and re-
turn from the market, either already infected, or
amended. There are such sorts as only burden and
clog us instead of nourishing; and moreover, some
that, under colour of curing, poison us. I have been
pleased, in places where I have been, to see men
through devotion make a vow of ignorance as well
as chastity, poverty, and penitence. It is as it
were a gelding of our unruly appetites to blunt this
curiosity that spurs us on to the study of books;
and to deprive the soul of this voluptuous compla
cency, that tickles us through our opinion of know-
ledge. It is fully accomplishing the vow of poverty
to add unto it that also of the mind. We need not be
taught to live at our ease. Socrates tells us, that
the way how to attain to it, and the manner how to
use it, are in our power. All this sufficiency of
ours, which exceeds the natural, is little better than
superfluous and vain. It is much if it does not more
encumber and plague us than do us good. Paucis
opus est literis ad mentem bonam :"+" A man of
"good disposition, has little need of learning." It
* Senec. ep. 106. † Tacit. in the Life of Jul. Agricolæ, sect. 4
Senec. epist. 106.
५
Y 2
324
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
}
Seneca's
great ef-
•
is a feverish excess of the mind; a turbulent and
restless tool. Do but look into yourself, and you
will find there such natural arguments against death,
as are true, and the most proper to serve you in
necessity. They are such as make a peasant, and an
entire people die with as much constancy as a philo-
sopher. Would I have died less cheerfully before I
had read Cicero's Tusculanes? I believe not. And
when I consider seriously, I perceive that my lan-
guage is enriched indeed, but my courage little or
nothing. It is just as nature forged it, and, in any
conflict, only defends itself in a natural and ordinary
way. Books have not so much served me for in-
struction as for exercise. What if learning, trying
to arm us with new defences against natural incon-
veniences, has more imprinted in our fancies the
weight and greatness of them, than its reasons and
subtleties to secure us from them? They are subtle-
ties indeed, with which it oft alarms us to little pur-
pose. Do but observe, how many frivolous, and if
nearly examined, how many immaterial arguments
the most concise and the wisest authors scatter about
one that is good. They are no other than quirks to
deceive us. But as this may be with some profit, I
will sift them no farther. Enough of that sort are
dispersed up and down, either by borrowing, or by
imitation: therefore ought a man to take a little
heed, not to call that force which is only civility,
nor that solid which is only sharp, or that good which
is only fair. Quæ magis gustata quam potata de-
lectant :* “ Which more delight the palate than the
"stomach." Every thing that flatters does not
feed. Ubi non ingenii, sed animi negotium agitur :†
"Where the question is not about improving the
"wit, but the understanding."
To see the bustle that Seneca makes to fortify
himself against death, to see him so sweat and pant
paring for to harden and encourage himself, and bait so long
forts in pre-
his death.
* Tusc. lib. v. cap. 5.
+ Senec. epist. 75.
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
325
营
​upon
this perch, would have lessened his reputation
with me, had he not very bravely maintained it to
the last. His so ardent and frequent agitations dis-
cover, that he was in himself hot and impetuous.
Magnus animus remissiùs loquitur, et securiùs: non
est alius ingenio, alius animo color:* * "A great cou-
rage speaks more indifferently and more firmly;
"the mind and the heart are of the same livery.
He must be convinced at his own expense. And he
in some sort discovers that he was hard pressed by
his enemy.
66
in this
for that
very rea-
Plutarch's manner, the more disdainful and the Plutarch is
more lax it is, is, in my opinion, the more manly and more loose
persuasive; I am apt to believe, that his soul had point, and
more certain and more regular motions. The one,
being more sharp, pricks and makes us start, and son more
more touches the soul; the other, being more solid, persuasive.
informs, establishes, and constantly supports us, and
more touches the understanding. That extorts the
judgment, this wins it. I have likewise seen other
writings yet more reverenced than these, which in
the representation of the conflict they maintain
against the temptations of the flesh, depict them so
sharp, so powerful, and invincible, that we ourselves,
who are of the dregs of the people, are as much to
wonder at the strangeness and unknown force of
their temptation, as at their resistance.
•
vulgar in
accidents
even death
To what end do we so arm ourselves with these The resolu
maxims of philosophy? Let us look down upon the tion of the
poor people that we see scattered upon the face offacing the
the earth, wholly intent upon their business, that most fatal
neither know Aristotle nor Cato, example nor pre-of life and
cept. Even from these nature every day extracts ef-even
itself,
fects of constancy and patience, more pure and manly more
than those we so diligently study in the schools.
How many do I ordinarily see, who slight poverty? lectures of
How many that desire to die, or that do it without phers.
alarm or affliction? He, that is now digging in my
* Senec, epist. 114, 115.
in-
structive
than the
the philoso
326
OF PHYSLOGNOMY.

Mon-
taigne's ac-
count of
ble calami-
garden, has this morning buried his father or his son.
The very names by which they call diseases sweeten
and mollify the sharpness of them. The phthysic is
with them but a cough, the bloody-flux but a looseness,
a pleurisy but a stitch; and as they gently name
them, so they patiently endure them. They are
grievous indeed, when they hinder their ordinary
labour; and they never keep their beds but to die.
Simplex illa, et aperta virtus in obscuram, et solertem
scientiam versa est:* "That plain and simple virtue
"is converted into an obscure and cunning know-
"ledge."
I was writing this about the time when a heavy
load of our intestine troubles lay with all its weight
the terri- upon me for several months. I had the enemy at
ties of the my door on one side, and the free-booters, worse
civil war enemies than they, on the other; non armis sed
he was in- vitiis certatur: "I was attacked not by force of
"arms, but fraud;" by which I was exposed to all
sorts of military injuries at once:

in which
volved,
Hostis adest dextrâ, lævâque ex parti timendus,
Vicinoque malo terret utrumque latus.†
On either hand an enemy alarms,
And threatens both sides with destructive arms.
A monstrous war! other wars are bent against
foreign nations; this against itself, and preys upon
and destroys itself with its own poison. It is of so
malignant and ruinous a nature, that it ruins itself
with the rest; and with rage mangles and tears it-
self to pieces. We oftner see it waste itself,
than through scarcity of any necessaries, or by
force of the enemy. All discipline shuns it. It
comes to compose sedition, and is itself full of it;
aims to chastise disobedience, and itself gives the
example; and, while employed for the defence of
the laws, shares in rebellion against its own.
What a condition are we in! our very physic is a
plague:
* Sen. epist. 95. +. Ovid. de Ponto. lib. i. eleg. 3, ver. 57, 58.
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
327
Nostre mal s'empoisonne
Du secours qu'on luy donne.
Such is our fate, that our disease
Our remedies doth still increase.
Exuperat magis, ægrescitque medendo.†
The physic makes us worse, and sicker still.
Omnia fanda nefanda malo permista furore,
Justificam nobis mentem avertêre deorum.‡
Right and wrong, confounded in this war,
Have robb'd us of the gods' protecting care.
In the beginning of such popular maladies, a man
may distinguish the sound from the sick; but when
they come to continue, as ours have done, the whole
body is then infected from head to foot, and no part
is free from corruption. For there is no air that
men so greedily suck in, that diffuses itself so far,
and that penetrates so deep, as that of licentiousness.
Our armies only subsist and are kept together by
the cement of foreigners; for of French there is
now no constant and regular body of an army to be
made. What a shame it is! there is scarce any dis-
cipline but what we learn from hired soldiers. As
for our parts, we conduct ourselves not at the discre-
tion of the chief,§ but every one at his own; the
general has a harder task to perform within than he
has without the commander alone is obliged to fol-
low the soldiers, to make court to them, to comply
with their humours, to obey them, and in every
other regard there is nothing in the armies but dis-
solution and licentiousness. It pleases me to ob-
serve how much pusillanimity and cowardice there is
in ambition; by how abject and servile ways it must
arrive at its end; but besides, it displeases me to see
good and courteous natures, and that are capable
of justice, every day corrupted in the manage-
* Plutarch.
+ Virg. Æneid. lib. xii. ver. 46.
Catullus, carm. 62, de Nuptiis Pelei et Thetidis, ver. 408.
Here the ingenious Mr. Cotton quite mistook the sentiment of
his author.
12
9
328
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
ment and command of this confusion. Long tolera-
tion begets habit, habit consent and imitation. We
had souls mischievous enough, without spoiling
those that were good and generous; so that if we
hold on, there will scarce remain any with whom to
entrust the weal of the state, in case fortune restore
it to us:
Hunc saltem everso juvenem succurrere seclo
Ne prohibete.*
Stay not the succour which we all implore,
But let this youth the sinking age restore.†
What is become of the old precept, "That soldiers
66
ought to stand more in awe of their chief than of
"their enemy?" And that wonderful example, that
An orchard an orchard, being inclosed within the precincts of a
of ripe ap- camp of the Roman army, was at their decampment
closed next day left entire to the owner, and not an apple,
within the though ripe and delicious, pulled off? I could wish
camp, left that our youth, instead of the time they spend in
untouched less useful travels, and less honourable studies,
ples in-
Roman
to the pos-
sessor.
would bestow one half of that time in being eye-
witnesses of naval exploits under some good com-
mander of Malta, and the other half in observing
the discipline of the Turkish armies, which is very
different from and has many advantages over ours.
One thing is, that our soldiers are become more
licentious in expeditions, whereas theirs are more
temperate, and kept more in awe. The thefts and
insolences committed upon the common people,
which are only punished with the bastinado in peace,
are capital in war. For an egg taken in Turkey
without paying for it, fifty blows with a cudgel is the
settled rate; for any thing else, how trivial soever,
* Virg. Geor. lib. i. v. 500.
+ If I am not mistaken the person here meant by Montaigne is
Henry of Bourbon, king of Navarre, who succeeded to the crown
of France by the death of Henry III. not only saved the govern-
ment, which he had assisted in the life time of that prince, but ren-
dered it more flourishing and formidable, than it had been for a long
time.
•
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
329
•
not necessary to nourishment, they are impaled, or
beheaded without delay. I am astonished to read
in the history of Selim, the most cruel conqueror
that ever was, that when he subdued Egypt, the
beautiful gardens about the city of Damascus being
all open (and in a conquered land, where his army en-
camped upon the very place), were left untouched
by the hands of the soldiers, because they had not
received the signal for plunder.
can war-
sion of
under pre-
abuses
But is there any disease in a government so im- Whether
portant, as ought to be purged with such a mortal any thing
drug? "No," says Favonius," not so much as the rant the
"tyrannical usurpation of a commonwealth." Plato commis-
likewise does not consent, that a man should violate violence in
the peace of his country to cure it; and by no a country,
means approves of a reformation that disturbs and tence of
hazards all, and that is purchased at the price of the correcting
subjects' blood and ruin; determining it to be the of its go-
duty of a patriot, in such a case, to let all alone, and vernment.
only pray to God for his extraordinary assistance;
and the philosopher seems to be angry with his great
friend Bion, for having proceeded something after
another manner. I was a Platonic in this point, be-
fore I knew there had ever been such a man as Plato
in the world. And if this person ought absolutely
to be rejected from our society (he who, by the
sincerity of his conscience, merited so much of the
divine favour as to penetrate so far into the christian
light, through the universal darkness wherein the
world was involved in his time), I do not think it
would well become us to suffer ourselves to be in-
structed by a heathen, what a great impiety it is, not
to expect from God relief that is simply his own,
and without our co-operation. I often doubt,
whether, among so many men as tamper in such
affairs, there is not to be found some one of so weak
understanding as to have been really persuaded that
he went towards reformation by the worst of defor-
mations, and advanced towards his salvation by the
most express causes which we know of most assured
330
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
The pillage
to which
damnation; that by overthrowing government, ma-
gistracy, and the laws, in whose protection God has
placed him, by inspiring fraternal minds with hatred,
and parricide, and by calling devils and furies to his
aid, he can assist the sacred lenity and justice of the
divine law. Ambition, avarice, cruelty, and re-
venge, have not sufficient natural impetuosity;
though we gloss them with the glorious titles of jus-
tice and devotion. There cannot a worse state of
things be imagined, than where wickedness comes to
be legitimate, and, with the magistrates' permission,
puts on the cloak of virtue. Nihil in speciem fal-
lacius, quam prava religio, ubi deorum nomen præten-
ditur sceleribus :* "Nothing has a more deceiving
"face than a false religion, where wickedness is
"cloaked with the name of the gods."
The most
extreme injustice, according to Plato, is, when that
which is unjust is reputed for just.
The common people at that time suffered thereby
Montaigne very much, not present damages only,
was ex-
posed on
both sides.
Undique totis
Usque adeò turbatur agris.
So great disturbance reigns throughout the land.
but future too. The living were to suffer, and so
were they who were yet unborn. They were rob-
bed, as I was consequently, even of hopes; taking
from them all they had, and robbed of the store laid
up to live on for many years :
Quæ nequeunt secum ferre aut abducere, perdunt,
Et cremat insontes turba scelesta casas.
Muris nulla fides, squallent populatibus agri. ‡
What they can't carry off they spoil and spurn,
And the rude rabble harmless houses burn
Walls can't secure their masters, and the field
Through woful waste does a vile prospect yield.
Besides this shock I suffered others. I underwent
* Tit. Livius, lib. xxxix. cap. 16.
‡ Ovid. Trist. lib. iii. el. 10, ver. 65.
† Virg. Eleg. lib. i. ver. 11
F

OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
331
;
the inconveniences that moderation brings along
with it in such diseases. I was pilled on all hands,
to the Gibelin I was a Guelph, and to the Guelph
a Gibelin; some one of the poets in my study ex-
presses this very well, but I know not where it is.
The situation of my house, and my acquaintance
with my neighbours, presented me with one face
my life and my actions with another. They did not
form accusations against me, for they had no fault to
find. I never broke the laws, and whoever would
have questioned me, would have done himself a
greater prejudice than me. They were only suspi-
cions that were whispered about, which never want
appearance in so confused a mixture, no more than
envious or weak brains. I commonly myself lend a
hand to the injurious presumptions that fortune scat-
ters abroad against me, by a way I have ever had of
evading to justify, excuse, and explain myself, con-
ceiving that it were to refer my conscience to arbi-
tration, to plead in its behalf; Perspicuitas enim ar-
gumentatione elevatur :* “ For the perspicuity of a
cause is clouded by argumentation." And, as if
every one saw as clearly into me as I do myself, in-
stead of retiring from an accusation, I advance to
meet it, and rather aggravate it by an ironical and
scoffing confession, if I do not totally despise it, as
a thing not worth my answer. But such as look
upon this kind of behaviour as betraying too haughty
a confidence, have as little kindness for me as they
who interpret it to be the weakness of an indefensi-
ble cause; namely the great ones, towards whom
want of submission is a very great fault; they being
rude to all justice that knows and feels itself, and is
not submissive, humble, and suppliant. I have oft
knocked my head against this pillar. So it is, that at
what then befel me an ambitious man would have
hanged himself, and a covetous one would have done
the same. I have no manner of care of getting :
* Cic. de Nat. Deor. lib. iii. cap. 4.
332
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
How he
bore his
Sit mihi, quod nunc est, etiam minus, ut mihi vivam
Quod superest ævi, si quid superesse volunt Dî.*
I only pray, that small estate which I
Now have, may tarry with me till I die,
And those few days which I have yet to live
(If heav'n to me more days will please to give)
I may enjoy myself.
But the losses that have befallen me by the injury of
others, whether by theft or violence, go as near to
my heart almost, as they would do to that of a man
that was sick and tortured with avarice. The of
fence is, without comparison, more bitter than the
loss. A thousand several sorts of mischiefs fell
upon me one after another, which I could better
have borne all at once.
I have already been considering to whom amongst
misfortune. my friends I might commit a helpless and decrepit
old age; and having turned my eyes quite round,
I found myself destitute. When a man falls at once
from so great a height, it ought to be in the arms
of a solid, vigorous, and fortunate friendship. Such
are very rare, if there be any. At last I concluded
that it was safest for me to trust to myself in my
greatest necessity; and if it should so fall out, that I
should be but upon cold terms in fortune's favour, I
would the more strenuously recommend me to my
own, and look the better to myself. Men on all oc-
casions throw themselves upon foreign assistances
to spare their own, which are the only certain
and sufficient aids they can arm themselves with.
Every one runs elsewhere, and to the future, foras-
much as no one is arrived at himself. I was satis-
fied, that they were profitable inconveniences, as in
the first place ill scholars are to be admonished with
the rod, when reason will not do, as a crooked piece
of wood is made straight by fire and straining. I have
a great while preached to myself to stick close to
my own concerns, and separate myself from the
* Hor. lib. i. epist. 18, ver. 107.
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
333
affairs of others; yet I am still turning my eyes
aside. A bow, a kind word, or look from a great
person tempts me; of which God knows how little
scarcity there is in these days, and what they signify.
I moreover, without wrinkling my forehead, hearken
to the persuasions offered me, to draw me into some
place of traffick, and so gently refuse it, as if I were
half willing to be overcome. Now so untractable a
spirit must be roughly treated, and this vessel which
thus chops and cleaves, and is ready to fall to pieces,
must have the hoops forced down with good sound
strokes of a mallet. Secondly, this accident served
me for exercise to prepare me for worse, if I, who
both by the favour of fortune, and by the condition
of my manners, hoped to be the last, should happen
to be one of the first overtaken with this storm; in-
structing myself betimes, to restrain my way of life,
and fit it for a new state. True liberty is to be able
to do what a man will with himself. Potentissimus
est qui se abet in potestate:
* "He is most potent,
"who has himself in his own power." In an ordinary
and quiet time, a man is prepared for moderate and
common accidents; but in the confusion wherein we
have been for these thirty years, every Frenchman,
whether in particular or in general, sees himself
every hour upon the point of the total ruin of his
fortune. By so much the more ought he to have his
courage armed with the strongest and most vigorous
provision. We are obliged to fortune, that we do
not live in an effeminate, idle, and languishing age:
some, who could never have been so by other means,
will be made famous by their misfortunes. As I sel-
dom read in histories of the confusions of other states,
without regret that I was not present, the better to
consider them, so my curiosity makes me in some
sort please myself with seeing with my own eyes this
notable spectacle of our public death, its form and
symptoms; and, since I could not retard it, am con-
* Senec. ep. 75.
334
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
tent to be destined to assist in it, and thereby to in-
struct myself. Thus do we manifestly covet to see,
even in shadow, and the fables of theatres, the tra
gic representations of human fortune. It is not
without compassion of what we hear; but we please
ourselves in having our resentment roused by the
rarity of such lamentable events. Nothing tickles
that does not pinch; and good historians skip over
calm narrations, as a stagnant water and dead sea, to
be again upon the narrative of wars and seditions,
which they know are most acceptable to the readers.
I question whether or no I can handsomely confess
at how mean a purchase of repose and tranquillity, I
have spent above half of my life in the ruin of my
country. I am too patient of accidents that touch
my property, and do not so much regard what they
take from me, as what remains safe at home and
abroad. There is comfort in escaping, one while
one, another while another, of those evils that are
levelled at me too in the consequence, but at present
reach only to others about us; as also, that in mat-
ters of public interest, the more universally my af-
fection is extended, the weaker it is. To which may
be added, that it is but too true. Tantum ex publicis
malis sentimus, quantum ad privatas res pertinent :
"We are only so far sensible of public evils, as they
"respect our private affairs." And that the health
which we have lost was such, that itself is some com-
fort for the regret we ought to have. It was health,
but not so much in comparison with the sickness
that has succeeded it. We are not fallen from any
great height. The corruption and thievery which
are in dignity and office, seem to me more insup-
portable. We do not take it so ill to be rifled in a
wood as in a place of security. It was an universal
juncture of particular members, corrupted in spite of
one another, and the most of them with inveterate
ulcers that neither required nor admitted of any
This shock therefore did really more animate
than press me, by the assistance of my conscience,
cure.
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
€335
which was not only at peace within itself, but ele-
vated, and I did not find any reason to complain of
myself. Also, as God never sends evils any more
than goods, absolutely unmixed, my health con-
tinued at that time longer than usual; and, as I can
do nothing without it, there are few things that I
cannot do with it. It afforded me means to rouse
up all my faculties, and to lay my hand before the
wound, that would else perhaps have spread farther,
and in my patience, I experienced that I had made
a stand against fortune, and that it must be a great
shock that could throw me out of the saddle. I do
not say this to provoke her to attack me with more
vigour; I am her humble servant, and beg her par-
don. Let her be satisfied in God's name. Am I
not sensible of her assaults? yes, certainly I am.
But as those who are possessed and oppressed with
sorrow, may sometimes suffer themselves neverthe-
less by intervals to taste a little pleasure, and are
sometimes seen to smile; so have I so much power
over myself as to make my ordinary condition quiet,
and free from anxious thoughts; but I suffer myself
however by fits to be surprised with the stings of
those unpleasing imaginations that assault me, whilst
I am arming myself to drive them away, or at least
to wrestle with them.
a fatal
that hap-
But the worst evil which befel me after all was A genuine
this; I was both without doors and within assaulted account of
with a violent plague beyond all others: for, as plague
sound constitutions are subject to the most grievous pened at
maladies, forasmuch as they are not to be forced that time in
but by such; so my very healthful air, where no where
contagion, though very near, in the memory of man, Montaigne
could ever take footing, happening to be corrupted,
produced strange effects:
Mista senum, et juvenum densantur funera, nullum
Sæva caput Proserpina fugit.*
* Horace, lib. i. ode 28, ver. 19.
the conntry
lived.
336
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
Both age and youth promiscuous crowd the tomb;
No mortal head can shun th' impending doom.
I had this pleasant condition to mortify me, that the
sight of my house was frightful to me. Whatever I
had there was without guard, and abandoned to the
mercy of every one. I, who am of so hospitable a
nature, was myself in very great distress for a retreat
for my family; a distracted family, frightful both to
its friends and itself, and filling every place with
horror where it attempted to settle; being to shift its
abode as soon as any one's finger began but to ache.
All diseases are at such a time concluded to be the
plague, and people do not give themselves leisure to
examine them. The best of it is, that, according to
the rules of art, in every danger that a man comes
near, he must undergo a quarantine, in extreme
dread of such distemper; your imagination all that
while tormenting you at pleasure, and turning your
health itself into a fever; yet would not all this have
gone very near my heart, had I not sympathised
with others' sufferings, and being forced to serve six
wretched months together as a guide to this cara-
van: for I carry my antidotes within myself, which
are resolution and patience. The apprehension,
which is particularly dreaded in this disease, little
troubles me. And had. I chosen to have caught it
when alone, my flight had been more sprightly and
farther off. It is a kind of death, which I do not
think of the worst sort; it is usually short, stupid,
without pain, and alleviated by the consideration
that it is the lot of the public; a death without
ceremony, without mourning, and without a crowd.
But as to the people about us, the hundredth part of
them could not be saved:
Videas desertaque regna
*
Pastorum, et longè saltus latèque vacantes.
Deserted realms now may'st thou see of swains,
And every where forsaken groves and plains.
* Virg. Geor. lib. iii. ver. 476.
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
337
In this place my best revenue is manual.
What a
hundred men plowed for me lay a long time fallow.
common
desolation.
But then what example of resolution did we not The forti-
see in the simplicity of all this people? every one tude of the
generally renounced all care of life. The grapes, people in
the principal revenue of the country, were left hang- this general
ing in clusters upon the vines; every one indif
ferently preparing for and expecting death, either
to-night or tomorrow, with a countenance and voice
so far from fear, as if they had contracted with death
in this necessity, and that it had been an universal
and inevitable sentence. It is always such. But
how few have the resolution of dying? The dis-
tance and difference of a few hours, and the sole
consideration of company, renders the apprehension
of it various to us. Do but observe these; by rea-
son that they die in the same month, children,
young people and old, they are no longer astonished
at it, they lament no more. I saw some who were
of the
afraid of staying behind, as in a dreadful solitude, and
seldom observed any other anxiety amongst them,
than for their interment; they were troubled to see
the dead bodies scattered about the fields at the
mercy of beasts, which presently began to flock
about them. How differing are the fancies of men!
The Neorites, a nation subjected by Alexander, Sepulture
threw the bodies of their dead into the darkest parts Neurites.
of their woods, to be devoured there; accounting
that the only happy sepulture. Some, while they
were in health, digged their own graves, and others
laid them down in them whilst alive; and a labourer
of mine, in dying, with his hands and feet drew the
earth upon him. Was not this tucking himself up
to sleep at his ease? A bravery, in some sort, like Roman sol-
that of the Roman soldiers, who, after the battle of diers suf-
Cannæ, were found suffocated with their heads with their
thrust into holes in the earth, which they had made after the
with their own hands. In short, a whole nation by battle of
usage was brought to a discipline nothing inferior to
any studied and premeditated resolution.
VOL. III.
Ꮓ
focated
own hands
Cannæ.
1
838
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
"
Whether in
the calami.
advantages
structions
Most of the instructions of science, to encourage
►
ties of life us, have in them more of show than of force, and of
we derive ornament than profit. We have abandoned nature,
any great and will teach her what to do; her who did so hap-
from the in- pily and so securely conduct us.
And in the mean
of science. time, from the foot-steps of her instructions, and
that little which, by the benefit of ignorance, re-
mains of her image imprinted in the life of this rustic
rout of unpolished men, science is constrained every
day to borrow, to set a pattern, for her disciples, of
constancy, tranquillity, and innocence. It is pretty
to see, that these which are so full of so much fine
knowledge, should imitate this foolish simplicity,
and that in the principal acts of virtue; and that
our wisdom must learn, even from the beasts, the
most profitable instructions in the greatest and most
necessary concerns of human life: as, how we are to
live and die, manage our fortunes, love and bring up
our children, and to maintain justice. A singular
testimony of human infirmity, and that this reason
we so handle at our pleasure, finding evermore some
diversity and novelty, leaves with us no apparent
trace of nature. Men have made such use of it as
perfumers do of oil; they have sophisticated it with
so many argumentations and far-fetched discourses,
that it is thereby become variable, and particular to
every one of them, and has lost its proper, constant,
and universal face. We must seek evidence of it
from beasts not subject to favour, corruption, nor
diversity of opinions. For it is indeed true, that
even they themselves do not always go exactly in
the path of nature, but where they swerve from
it, it is so little, that you may always see the track;
as horses that are led make several bounds and cur-
vets, but it is always at the length of the halter, and
they still follow him that leads them; and as the
hawk takes his flight, but still under the restraint of
his cryance. Exilia, tormenta, bella, morbos, nau-
fragia, meditare, ut nullo sis malo Tyro:* " Expect
* Senec. epist. 91 et 107.
+
· OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
339
"banishments, torture, wars, diseases, and ship-
"wrecks, that thou mayest not be surprised by any
"disaster." What good will this curiosity do us, to
anticipate all the inconveniences of human nature,
and to prepare ourselves, with so much trouble, to
meet even things, which perhaps will never befal
us? Parem passis tristitiam facit, pati posse :* " It
"troubles men as much that they may possibly suffer,
"as if they really did." Not only the blow, but
the crack of the whip strikes us. Or like people in
a fever, for it is certainly a fever, to go immediately
and scourge yourself, because it may fall out, that
fortune may one day make you undergo the lash;
and to put on your furred gown at Midsummer, be-
cause you will stand in need of it at Christmas.
Throw yourselves, say they, into the experience of
all the evils, nay the worst that can possibly befal
you; make the trial and there stand fast. On the
contrary, the most easy and most natural way would
be to banish even the thoughts of them. They will
not come soon enough, their true existence does not
continue with us long enough, we must lengthen and
extend them in thought; we must incorporate them
in us before-hand, and there entertain them, as if
they would not otherwise make a reasonable impres-
sion upon our senses. We shall find them heavy
enough when they come (says one of the leaders,
not one of the tender, but of the most severe sects):
in the mean time favour thyself; believe what pleases
thee best. What good will it do thee to bespeak
and anticipate thy ill fortune; to lose the present for
fear of the future; and to make thyself at this in-
stant miserable, because thou art to be so in time?
These are his words. Learning, indeed, readily
does us one good office, in instructing us exactly in
the dimension of evils:
Curis acuens mortalia corda.‡
* Senec. epist. 74.
+ Idem, epist. 13 et 98.
‡ Virg. Geo. lib. i. ver. 123.
Z 2
340
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
Of what
paration
for death.
Whetting human minds with needful care.
It were pity that any part of their bulk should escape
our sense and knowledge.
*
It is certain that, for the most part, preparation
use is pre- for death has administered more torment than the
thing itself. It was of old truly said, and by a very
judicious author, minus afficit sensus fatigatio, quam
cogitatio: "Suffering afflicts the senses less than
"the apprehension of it." The thought of present
death sometimes of itself animates us with a prompt
resolution no longer to shun a thing that is utterly
inevitable. Several gladiators have been known,
who, after having fought timorously, have courage-
ously entertained death, offering their throats to the
enemies' swords, and bidding them dispatch. The
remote sight of future death requires a courage that
is slow, and consequently hard to attain to. If you
know not how to die, never trouble yourself; nature
will fully instruct you upon the spot; she will exactly
do that business for you; take you no care:
Incertam frustra mortales funeris horam
Quæritis, et qua sit mors aditura via:
Pœna minor certam subitò perferre ruinam,
Quod timeas, gravius sustinuisse diu.+
Mortals, in vain's your curiosity
To know the hour and death that you must die,
Better your fate strike with a sudden blow,
Than that you long should what you fear foreknow.
We trouble life with the care of death, and death
with the care of life. The one vexes, the other
frights us. It is not against death that we prepare,
that is too momentary a thing; a quarter of an
hour's suffering, without consequence, does not de-
serve particular precepts. To say truth, we prepare
ourselves against the preparations of death. Philo-
sophy enjoins, that we should always have death be-
fore our eyes, to foresee and consider it before the
time; and then gives us rules and precautions to
* Seneca.
+ Propertius, lib. ii. eleg. 27, ver. 1, 2.
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
341
provide that this foresight and thought do us no
harm: just so do physicians, who throw us into dis-
eases, to the end they may have a subject for their
drugs and their art. If we have not known how to
live, it is injustice to teach us to die, and to make
the end different from the rest of the life. If we
have known how to live consistently and quietly, we
shall know how to die so too. They may boast as
much as they please, Tota philosophorum vita, com-
mentatio mortis est:* "That the whole life of a phi-
"losopher is the meditation of death." But I
fancy, that though it be the end, it is not the aim
of life. It is its end, its extremity, but nevertheless
not its object.
It ought to be to itself its own aim and design; The true
its true study is to order, govern, and suffer itself aim of life.
In the number of many other offices, which the ge-
neral and principal chapter of knowledge how to live
comprehends, is the article of knowing how to die;
and did not our fears give it weight, one of the
lightest too.
ture dis-
poses us to
To judge of them by the utility, and by the naked Simple na-
truth, the lessons of simplicity are not much inferior
to those which learning teaches to the contrary, die with a
Men differ in sentiment and force; we must lead
them to their own good, according to their capaci-
ties, and by various ways:
Quo me cumque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.†
For as the tempest drives, I shape my course.
I never saw any countryman among my neighbours
enter into the thought of what countenance and as-
surance he should pass over this last hour with; na-
ture teaches him not to dream of death till he is dy-
ing; and then he does it with a better grace than
Aristotle, upon whom death presses with a double
weight, both of itself, and by so long a premedita-
tion of it. Therefore it was the opinion of Cæsar,
* Cic. Tusc. Quæst. lib. i. cap. 30. + Hor. lib. i. epist. 1, ver. 15.
better
grace than
totle, &c.
342
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
Socrates's
pleadings
both by
est :*
66
that the death which was the least thought of before-
hand, was the easiest and the most happy. Plus
dolet quam necesse est, qui ante dolet quam necesse
"He grieves more than is necessary, who
grieves before it is necessary." The bitterness of
this imagination springs from our curiosity. Thus
do we ever hinder ourselves, desiring to anticipate
and over-rule natural prescriptions. It is only the
learned doctors who dine worst, when in the best
health, and knit their brows at the image of death.
The common sort stand in need of no remedy or
consolation, but just in the shock, and when the
blow comes; and think no more of the matter than
just what they endure. Is it not then, as we say,
that the stupidity and want of apprehension in the
vulgar gives them this patience in present evils, and
this profound thoughtlessness of future sinister acci-
dents? Are their understandings, by being more
gross and dull, less to be penetrated and moved? If
it be so, let us henceforth, for God's sake, recom-
mend stupidity, which so gently leads its disciples to
the last favour we are promised from learning.
We have no want of good masters, who are in-
in Plato, terpreters of natural simplicity. Socrates shall be
where we one; for, as I remember, he speaks something to
but his this purpose, to the judges who sat upon his life.
doctrine "I am afraid, gentlemen, that if I entreat you not
ple to fol- "to put me to death, I shall involve myself in the
low nature cc charge of my accusers, which is, that I pretend
simply. "to be wiser than others, as having some more se-
and exam-
purely and
"cret knowledge of things that are above and below
66 us. I know very well, that I have neither been
“familiar nor acquainted with death, nor have ever
"seen any person that has tried its qualities, from
"whom to inform myself. Such as fear it, suppoșe
66
they know it; as for my part, I neither know
"what it is, nor what is done in the other world.
"Death is, perhaps, an indifferent thing; perhaps,
* Senec. epist. 88.
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
343
1
CC
cc
CC
a thing to be desired. It is nevertheless to be be-
lieved, if it be a transmigration from one place to
"another, that it is a bettering of one's condition,
"to go live with so many great persons deceased,
"and to be exempt from having any more to do
"with unjust and corrupt judges: if it be an anni-
"hilation of our being, it is yet a bettering of one's
"condition, to enter into a long and peaceable
night. We find nothing more sweet in life than
quiet repose, and profound sleep without dreams.
"The things that I know to be evil, such as to of
"fend one's neighbour, and to disobey one's supe-
"rior, whether it be God or man, I carefully avoid:
"such as I do not know whether they be good or
“evil, I cannot fear them. If I go hence to die,
" and leave you alive, the gods only know whether
"it will go better either with you or me; where-
"fore, as to what concerns me, you may do as you
"shall think fit; but, according to my method,
CC
giving just and wholesome advice, I do affirm,
"that you will do your consciences more right to
"set me at liberty, unless you see farther into my
"cause than I do myself. And judging according
"to my past actions, both public and private, ac-
cu
66
cording to my intentions, and according to the
profit that so many of my fellow citizens, both old
"and young, daily reap from my conversation, and
"the good I do to you all, you cannot duly acquit
"yourselves towards my merit, but by ordering,
"that, my poverty considered, I should be main-
"tained in the Prytaneum,* at the public expense;
a thing that I have often known you with less
"reason grant to others. Do not impute it to ob-
<c
<<
stinacy or disdain, that I do not, according to the
"custom, supplicate, and endeavour to move you
"to compassion. I have both friends and kindred ;
"not being (as Homer says) begotten of a block or
"of a stone, any more than others, that are able to
* The public exchequer.
344
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
CC
66
present themselves before you in tears and mourn-
"ing, and I have three desolate children to move
you to pity. But I should do a shame to your
city, at the age I am, and in the reputation of
"wisdom wherein I now stand, to appear in such an
66
66
abject form. What would men say of the other
"Athenians? I have always admonished those who
"have frequented my lectures, not to redeem their
"lives by an indecent action; and in the wars of
"my country, at Amphipolis, Potidea, Delia, and
"other expeditions where I have been, I have effec-
"tually manifested how far I was from securing my
"safety by my shame. I would moreover endanger
your duty, and tempt you to unhandsome things:
"for it is not for my prayers to persuade you, but
"the pure and solid arguments of justice. You
"have sworn to the gods to keep yourselves thus
66
66
<<
upright; and it would seem as if I suspected, or
"would recriminate upon you, should I not believe
"that there are gods: and I would give evidence
"against myself, not to believe in them as I ought,
by mistrusting their conduct, and not purely com-
"mitting my affair into their hands. I entirely rely
upon them, and hold myself assured, they will do
"in this what shall be most fit both for you and me.
"Good men, whether living or dead, have no rea-
"son to fear the gods."
66
Was this a childish pleading of a sublimity incon-
ceivable, and was it unnecessary? Truly, he had
very good reason to prefer it to that which the great
orator Lysias had penned for him; admirably
couched, indeed, in the judiciary style, but unwor-
thy of so noble a criminal. Did one suppliant word
fall from the mouth of Socrates? Did that tran-
scendent virtue strike sail in the height of its glory?
Did his rich and powerful nature commit his defence
to art, and, in his highest attempt, did he renounce
truth and simplicity, the ornaments of his speaking,
to deck it with the embellishment of figures, and the
equivocations of premeditated speech? He did very
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
345
wisely, and like himself, not to corrupt the tenor of
an incorrupt life, and to deface so sacred an image
of the human form, for the sake of spinning out his
decrepitude to one year longer, and to betray the
immortal memory of that glorious end. He lived
not to himself, but for an example to the world.
Would it not have been a public damage, that he
should have ended his life after a lazy and obscure
manner? Doubtless, that careless and indifferent
concern of his about death, very well deserved that
posterity should have the more concern for it, which
they also had. And there is nothing so just in jus-
tice, as what fortune ordained for his recommenda-
tion. For the Athenians abominated all those who
had been the cause of his death to such a degree, *
that they avoided them as excommunicated persons,
and looked upon every thing as polluted that had
been but touched by them; no one would wash with
them in the baths; none would salute, or own ac-
quaintance with them; so that at last, unable longer
to support this public hatred, they hanged them-
selves. If any one should think that, amongst so
many other examples that I had to choose out of the
sayings of Socrates, for my present purpose, I have
made an ill choice of this, and judge that this dis-
course is elevated above the common opinion, I
must tell them that I have purposely done it; for I
am of another opinion, and think it a discourse in
rank and simplicity much behind and inferior to
what it is commonly taken for. He represents with
an inartificial boldness, and a childish security, the
pure and first impression and ignorance of nature.
For it is to be believed, that we have naturally a fear
of pain, but not of death, for its own sake.
makes a
!
It is a part of being, and no less essential than Death
living. To what end should nature have begot in us
a hatred to it, and a horror of it, considering that it being, and
* All this is exactly copied from Plutarch's treatise of Envy and
Hatred.
part of our
346
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
neficial to
is very be- is of so great utility to her in maintaining the succes-
nature. sion and vicissitude of her works? And that, in
this universal republic, it serves more to birth and
augmentation, than to destruction or ruin :
Sic rerum summa novatur,*
*
Mille animas una necata dedit.†
The failing of one life, is the passage to a thousand
Beasts na- other lives: nature has imprinted in beasts the care
licitous of of themselves, and of their preservation. Nay, they
their pre- proceed so far, as to fear the being worse, to avoid
servation.
Socrates's
way of
speaking
very differ..
ent from
ours.
hitting or hurting themselves, and to be afraid of
our haltering and beating them; accidents which are
subject to their sense and experience; but that we
should kill them they cannot fear, nor have they the
faculty to imagine and conclude such a thing as
death. Yea, it is said, that we see them not only
cheerfully undergo it, horses for the most part
neighing, and swans singing when they die; nay,
they moreover seek it at need, of which elephants
have given many examples.
But besides all this, is not the way of arguing
which Socrates here makes use of, equally admirable,
and living both for its simplicity and vehemence? Really, it
is much more easy to speak like Aristotle, and to
live like Cæsar, than to speak and live as Socrates
did. There lies the extreme degree of perfection
and difficulty. Art cannot reach it. Now, our fa-
culties are not so trained up. We do not try, we
do not know them, we invest ourselves with those of
others, and let our own lie idle. As some one may
say of me, that I have here only made a nosegay of
foreign flowers, and have brought nothing of my
own but the thread that ties them.
With what
view Mon-
In earnest, I so far yield to the common opinion,
taigne has that those borrowed ornaments accompany me, but
* Lucret. lib. ii. ver. 74.
+ I know not where Montaigne found these words, nor conse-
quently what they signify in the original; but Montaigne immedi-
ately subjoins the sense he would have them bear.
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
947:
book with
I do not think that they totally cover and hide me; charged his
that is quite contrary to my design, who desire to quotations.
make a show of nothing but what is my own, and
what is my own by nature: and could I have been
sure of credit, I had at all adventures spoken purely
alone. I load myself more and more every day be-
yond my purpose and first method, upon the account
of idleness and the humour of the age. If it mis-
becomes me, as I believe it does, it is no matter, it
may be of use to some other. Some quote Plato
and Homer, who never saw either of them: and I
also have taken passages far enough from their
source. Having a thousand volumes about me in
the place where I write, I can presently, without
trouble or learning, borrow, if I please, from a dozen
such scrap-gatherers as I am, authors that I do not
much trouble myself with, to embellish this treatise
of Physiognomy. There needs no more, but a pre-
liminary epistle of the German model, to stuff me
with quotations, and we, by that means, go a begging
for the liquorish glory, to cheat the silly world.
These lumberpies of common places, wherewith so
many furnish their studies, are of little use but to
common subjects, and serve but for a show, and not
to direct us; a ridiculous fruit of learning, which
Socrates so pleasantly discusses against Euthydemus.
I have seen books composed of matters that were
never either studied or understood; the authors
committing to several of their learned friends, the
examination of this and the other matter to compile
them; contenting themselves for their share to have
projected the design, and by their industry to have
bound up this faggot of unknown provision; the ink
and paper at least are theirs. This is to buy or bor-
row a book, and not to make one; it is to show
men, not that a man can make a book, but that,
whereof they may be in doubt, he cannot make one.
A president in my hearing boasted, that he had
heaped up two hundred and odd common places in
one of his judgments: in telling this, he deprived
348
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
himself of the honour that had been attributed to
him. In my opinion, a pusillanimous and absurd
vanity for such a subject, and such a person. I do
quite the contrary; and amongst so many borrowed
things, am glad if I can steal one, disguising and
deforming it for some new service. At the hazard
of having it said, that it is for want of understanding
in its natural use, I give it some particular dress with
my own hand, to the end it may not be so absolutely
strange. These expose their thefts to view, and
value themselves upon them. And also they have
more credit with the laws than with me. We natu-
ralists think that there is a great and incomparable
preference in the honour of invention to that of
quotation.
If I would have spoke by learning, I had spoke
sooner; I had wrote in a time nearer to my studies,
when I had more wit, and a better memory; and
would sooner have trusted to the vigour of that age
than this, if I had intended to have professed writ-
ing. And what if this gracious favour, which for-
tune has even now offered me upon the account of
this work, had befallen me in such a time of my life,
instead of this, wherein it is equally desirable to pos-
sess, and to lose. Two of my acquaintance, great
men in this faculty, have, in my opinion, lost half, in
refusing to publish at forty years old, and choosing
to stay till threescore. Maturity has its defects as
well as verdure, and worse; and old age is as unfit
writing of for this kind of business as for any other. He who
commits his decrepit age to the press, is a fool, if
he think to squeeze any thing out thence that does
not represent him deformed with dotage and stupi-
dity. Our understandings grow costive and thick
as they grow old. I deliver my ignorance in pomp
and plenty, and my learning scantily and poorly;
the latter accidentally and accessorily, the former
principally and expressly; and write purposely of
nothing but nothing, nor of any science but that of
inscience. I have chosen a time, when my life,
Old age
unfit for
books.
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
349
which I am to give an account of, lies wholly before
me; what remains of it holds more of death. And
of my death only, should I then be as talkative as
some are, I would moreover give notice at my de-
parture.
deformity
the beauty
Socrates was a perfect pattern of all great qua- Socrates's
lities: I am vexed that he had so deformed a body, of body un-
as it is said, and so unsuitable to the beauty of his suitable to
soul, himself being so amorous, and so captivated of his mind.
with beauty. Nature surely did him wrong. There
is nothing more probable than a conformity and rela-
tion of the body to the soul. Ipsi animi, magni
refert, quali in corpore locati sint : multa enim è cor-
pore existunt, quæ acuant mentem: multa qua obtun-
dant :* "It is of great consequence in what bodies
"souls are placed, for many corporal qualities
re
sharpen the mind, and many others blunt it."
This speaks of an unnatural ugliness and deformity
of limbs but we call that ill-favouredness also,
which is an unseemliness at first sight, being princi-
pally lodged in the face, and which disgusts us by
the complexion, a spot, a forbidding countenance,
sometimes from some inexplicable cause, where the
limbs are nevertheless of good symmetry and perfect.
The deformity that clothed a very beautiful soul in
Stephen la Boetius, was of this predicament. This
superficial ugliness, which nevertheless is always the
most imperious, is of least prejudice to the state of
the mind, and of little certainty in the opinion of
men. The other, which, by a more proper name, is
called a more substantial deformity, strikes deeper.
Not every shoe of glossy leather, but every shoe
neatly made, shows the true shape of the foot with-
in it.
Socrates said of his deformity, that it denoted his
soul to be as deformed, had he not corrected it by
instruction; but, in saying so, I believe he did but
* Cic. Tusc. Quæst. lib. i. cap. 33.
350
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
beauty of
jest, as his custom was, and never so excellent a soul
What the made a jest of itself. I cannot repeat too often how
the body is, great an esteem I have for beauty, that potent and
and how advantageous quality. He called it a short tyranny;
esteemed. and Plato, the privilege of nature. We have no-
much to be
thing that excels it in reputation; it has the first
place in the commerce of men; it presents itself to
meet us, seduces and prepossesses our judgment with
great authority and wonderful impression. Phryne
had lost her cause, in the hands of an excellent ad-
vocate, if, by rending her robe, she had not cor-
rupted her judges with the lustre of her beauty."
And I find that Cyrus, Alexander, and Cæsar, the
three masters of the world, never neglected beauty
in their greatest affairs; no more did the first Scipio.
The same word in Greek signifies beautiful and good,
and the Holy Ghost oft calls those good, whom he
means beautiful. I would willingly maintain the pri
ority of things called good, according to the song,
which Plato calls a trivial one,† taken out of some
of the ancient poets; viz. health, beauty, and riches.
Beautiful Aristotle says, that the right of command appertains
to the beautiful; and that when there are persons
whose beauty resembles the images of the gods, ve-
neration is likewise due to them. When one asked
him, why people oftner and longer frequented the
company of handsome persons? "The question,"
said he," is not to be asked by any but one that is
"blind." The most and the greatest philosophers
paid for their schooling, and acquired wisdom by the
favour and mediation of their beauty. Not only in
the men that serve me, but also in the beasts, I con-
sider beauty as little short of goodness.
persons fit
to com-
mand.
* Sextus Empiricus adversus Mathematicos, lib. xi. p. 65. Quin-
tilian, who reports the same passage, ascribes to Phryne the inven-
tion of this expedient, whereby she gained the favour of her judges,
Instit. Orator. lib. ii. cap. 15; but Athenæus gives the honour of
gaining her cause to Hyperides.

+ Gorgias Plat. p. 309.
Diog. Laert. in the Life of Aristotle, lib. v. sect. 2.
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
351
physiogno-
tures of the
Yet I fancy that the shape and make of a face, and An advan-
those lineaments by which men guess at our tempers, tageous
and our future fortunes, is a thing that is not very my not di
directly and simply to be ranked in the class ofrectly
founded on
beauty and deformity, no more than every good the fine fea-
smell and serenity of air promises health, nor than face.
every fog and stink does infection in a time of pes-
tilence. Such as accuse ladies of contradicting their
beauty by their manners, are not always in the right;
for, in a face which is none of the best, there may
be an air of honesty and fidelity: as, on the con-
trary, I have sometimes seen between two lovely
eyes, certain menaces of a dangerous and malignant
nature. There are some physiognomies, that are
favourable, so that in a crowd of victorious enemies,
you would presently choose, amongst men you never
saw before, one rather than another, to whom to
surrender, and with whom to trust your life, and
yet not properly for the sake of his beauty.

ance may
siognomy.
A man's countenance is but a slender security, Whether
and yet is something to be regarded too; and if any assur-
were to lash men, I would most severely scourge the be derived
wicked ones, who belie and betray the promises that from phy-
nature has planted in their foreheads. I would with
great severity punish malice in a courteous aspect.
It seems as if there were some happy and some un-
happy faces; and I believe there is some art in dis-
tinguishing affable from silly faces, such as are stern
from the rigid, the malicious from the pensive, the
coy from the melancholic, and such other bordering
qualities. There are beauties which are not only
haughty, but sour; and others that are charming,
and also insipid. To prognosticate future adventures,
is a thing that I shall leave undecided.
conformity
I have, for my own part, as I have said elsewhere, The pre-
simply and nakedly embraced this ancient rule: cept of a
"That we should not fail to follow nature, and that to nature
"the sovereign precept is to conform ourselves to of great
"her." I have not, as Socrates did, corrected my ance, even
natural temper by the force of reason, and have not with re-
9
import-
352
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
outward
man.
on in
I go
gard to the in the least molested my inclination by art. I
my old way; I contend not. My two prin-
cipal parts live of their own accord in peace and
good intelligence; and my nurse's milk, thanks be to
God, was tolerably wholesome and in a good state.
Let me say this by the way, that I see a certain
image of scholastic honesty, almost only in use
amongst us, in greater esteem than it is really
worth; a slave to precepts, and fettered with hope
and fear. I would have it such, as that laws and
religions should not make, but perfect and authorise
it; such as has wherewith to support itself without
help; such as is rooted in us by the seed of universal
reason, and imprinted in every man by nature. That
reason which reclaimed Socrates from his vicious
bent, rendered him obedient to the gods, and the
men of authority in his city; courageous in death,
not because his soul was immortal, but because he is
mortal. It is a doctrine ruinous to all government,
and much more hurtful than ingenious and subtle,
which persuades the people, that a religious belief is
alone sufficient, and without morality, to satisfy the
divine justice. Custom demonstrates to us a vast
distinction between devotion and conscience. I have
a tolerable aspect, both in form and interpretation:
Two nota-
ble proofs
of great
Quid dixi habere me? Imo habui Chreme,*
Heu! tantum attriti corporis ossa vides.†
Have, said I, Chremes? Now, alas! not so;
But I had once, e'er I was brought so low.
and which makes a quite contrary appearance to that
of Socrates.
It has oft befallen me, that upon the mere credit
of my presence, and my very aspect, persons who
advantage had no manner of knowledge of me, have put a very
Montaigne great confidence in me, whether in their own affairs
or mine: and I have in foreign parts obtained favours
which
derived
from his
aspect.
* Terentii Heaut. act. i. scen. 1, ver. 43.
+ From whence Montaigne quoted this line I know.not.
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
353.
t
singular and uncommon; but two instances are, per-
haps, worth particular relation.
A certain person
deliberated to surprise my house and me in it; his
artifice was, to come to my gate alone, and to be:
importunate to be let in: I knew him by name, and
had reason to repose a confidence in him, as being
my neighbour, and something related to me. I
caused the gate to be opened to him, as I do to
every one, and in he came, quite frighted, his horse
panting, and all in a foam. He presently enter-
tained me with this flim-flam: "That about half a
league off, he had unluckily met with a certain
66 enemy of his, whom I also knew, and had indeed
heard of their quarrel; that this enemy had pur-
❝sued him very hard; that he therefore fled to my;
cc
ઃઃ
gate for refuge; and that he was in great trouble
"for his followers, whom, he said, he concluded to:
"be all either dead or taken." I innocently did
my best to comfort, hearten, and refresh him. Pre-
sently after came four or five of his soldiers, who
presented themselves in the same countenance and
affright to get in too, and after them more, and still
more, very well mounted and armed, to the number
of five and twenty or thirty, pretending that they
had the enemy at their heels. This mystery began
a little to awake my suspicion. I was not ignorant
what an age I lived in, how much my house might
be envied, and I had several examples of others of
my acquaintance, who had met with such sort of
guests. So it was, that knowing there was nothing
to be got in having begun to do a courtesy, unless I
went through with it, and as I could not disengage
myself from them without spoiling all; I chose the
most natural and simple way, as I always do, and
invited them all to come in. And, in truth, I am
naturally very little inclined to suspicion and dis-
trust. I willingly incline towards excuse, and the
most favourable construction. I take men according
to the common run, and do not believe there can be
such perverse and unnatural inclinations, unless con-
2 A
VOL. III.
354
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
vinced by manifest evidence, more than I do mon-
sters and miracles; I am, moreover, a man who
willingly commit myself to fortune, and throw my-
self headlong into her arms: and have hitherto found
more reason to applaud than to condemn myself for
it; having found her more solicitous of and more a
friend to my affairs, than I am myself. There are
some actions in my life, wherein my conduct may
justly be called difficult, or, if you please, prudent.
Yet of those, supposing the third part to have been
my own, doubtless the other two thirds were richly
hers. We are, methinks, to blame, in that we do
not enough trust heaven with our affairs, and chal-
lenge more from our own conduct than appertains to
us. And therefore it is that our designs so oft mis-
carry. Heaven is displeased at the extent that we
attribute to the prerogatives of human prudence in
prejudice of its own, and abridges them the more we
stretch them. The last comers kept themselves on
horseback in my court-yard, whilst their leader was
with me in the parlour, who would not have his horse
set up in the stable, saying, he would immediately
retire, as soon as he should have news of the rest of
his men. He saw himself master of his enterprise,
and nothing now remained but the execution. He
has since several times said. (for he was not ashamed
to tell the story himself), that my countenance and
freedom had snatched the treachery out of his hands.
He again mounted his horse, his followers having
continually their eyes intent upon him, to see when
he would give the sign; very much astonished to see
him march away and leave his prey behind him.
Another time, relying upon I know not what truce,
newly published in the army, I took a journey
through a very fickle country. I had not rode far
before it got wind, and two or three parties of horse,
from several places, were sent out to take me; one
of them the third day overtook me, where I was
charged by fifteen or twenty gentlemen in vizors,
followed at a distance by a band of ragamuffins.
12
1
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
355
Here was I surrounded and taken, drawn into the
heart of a neighbouring forest, dismounted, robbed,
my trunks rifled, my casket taken, and my horses
and equipage divided amongst new masters. We
had here a very long contest about my ransom,
which they set so high, that it was plain I was not
known to them. They were, moreover, in a very
great debate about my life; and, in truth, there
were several alarming circumstances that threatened
me with the danger I was then in :
Tunc animis opus, Ænea, tunc pectore firmo.*
Then, then, Æneas, was there need
Of an undaunted heart indeed.
I still insisted upon the letter of the truce, that they
should only have the gain of what they had already
taken from me, which was not to be despised, with-
out promise of any other ransom. After we had
been two or three hours in this place, and after they
had mounted me on a pitiful jade that was not likely
to run away from them, and committed me to the
guard of fifteen or twenty harquebusiers, and dis-
persed my servants to others, having given order
that they should carry us off prisoners several ways;
when I was got some two or three musket-shot from
the place,
Jam prece Pollucis, jam Castoris implorata.†
Whilst I implor'd Castor and Pollux aid.‡
this sudden and unexpected alteration happened. I
saw the chief of them return to me with milder lan-
guage, making search amongst the troopers for my
lost baggage, and causing as much as could be reco-
yered to be restored to me, even to my casket: but
the best present they made me, was my liberty; for
the rest did not much concern me at that time.
>
* Virg. Æneid. lib. vi. ver. 261.
+ Catullus, lib. xvi. ver. 65.
Or as Montaigne might have said in his own language: after I
had made a vow to all the saints in Paradise, or as we protestants
say, in the Romish Calendar.
2 A 2
356
OF PHYSIOGNOMY.
The simpli-
city of his
visible in
his eyes
guage, pre-
discourse
resented.
The true cause of so sudden a change, and of this
second thought, without any apparent impulse, and
of so miraculous a repentance, at such a time, in a
serious and deliberate enterprise, and which was be-
come just by custom (for at the first dash I plainly
confessed to them of what party I was, and whither
I was going), is what I do not yet rightly apprehend.
The most eminent amongst them, who pulled off his
vizor, and told me his name, said to me over and
over again, that I was obliged for my deliverance to
my countenance, and the frankness and courage of
my speech, which rendered me unworthy of such a
misfortune, and he desired me to be in no dread of
the like again. It is possible that the divine Bounty
chose to make use of this mean instrument for my
preservation. It moreover defended me the next
day from other and worse ambushes, which even
these had given me warning of. The last of these
two gentlemen is yet living, to give an account of
the story; the first was killed not long ago.
If my face did not answer for me, if men did not
intention, read in my eyes and words, the innocence of my in-
which was tention, I had not lived so long without quarrels,
and without giving offence, considering the indis-
and his lan- creet liberty I take, right or wrong, to say whatever
vented his comes into my head, and to judge rashly of things.
freedom in This practice may with reason appear uncivil, and
from being ill-adapted to our way of conversation; but I have
never met with any who have judged it outrageous
or malicious, or that took offence at my liberty, if
he had it from my own lips. Words repeated have
another kind of sense, as well as sound. Neither
do I hate any person whatever; and am so słow to
offend that I cannot do it, to serve reason itself.
And when occasion has called me to condemn cri-
minals, I have rather failed in the strictness of justice.
Ut magis peccari nolim, quam satis animi ad vindi-
canda peccata habeam :* So that I have more con-
*Titus Livius, lib. xxix. cap. 22.
OF EXPERIENCE.
357
66
❝ I was for being
reproached
cern for men's offences, than a heart to punish
"them." Aristotle, it is said, was reproached for Aristotle
having been too merciful to a wicked man.*
"indeed," said he, " merciful to the man, but not to merciful.
"his wickedness." Ordinary judgments are exas-
perated to punishment by the horror of the crime.
But this cools mine. The horror of the first murder
makes me fear the second, and the deformity of the
first cruelty makes me abhor all imitation of it.
That may be applied to me, who am but a knave of
clubs, which was said of Charillus, king of Sparta,t
"He cannot be good, because he is not severe to
"the wicked." Or thus; for Plutarch delivers it
both these ways, as he does a thousand other things,
variously, and contrary to one another; "He must
"needs be good, because he is so even to the
"wicked." Even as in lawful actions, I do not
care to be concerned when others are offended by
them; so, to say the truth, in lawful things, I do
not make conscience enough of employing myself
when others approve them.
•
CHAPTER XII.
Of Experience.
THERE is no desire more natural than that of Why expe.
knowledge: we try all the ways that can lead us to not a sure
* Diog. Laert. in the Life of Aristotle, lib. v. sect. 17.
† Plutarch, of the Difference between the Flatterer and the
Friend, chap. 10.
I cannot imagine from which of Plutarch's tracts Montaigne
took this reflection; but in the treatise of Envy and Hatred Plu-
tarch gives it us exactly as it is in the preceding note, viz. “How
"should he be good, when he is not rigid to the wicked.”
chap. 3.
rience is
358
OF EXPERIENCE.
means to it; where reason is wanting, we therein employ
experience:
inform us
of the
truth of
things.
1
Of what
multiplici-
:
Per varios usus artem experientia fecit,
Exemplo monstrante viam.*
By various proofs experience art has form'd,
Example being guide.
+
which is a means much more weak and cheap. But
truth is so great a thing, that we ought not to dis-
dain any medium that will guide us to it. Reason
has so many forms, that we know not which to ad-
here to; experience has no fewer. The conse-
quence we would draw from the comparison of
events is uncertain, by reason they are always un-
like. There is no quality so universal in this image
of things as diversity and variety. The Greeks, the
Latins, and we, for the most express example of 'si-
militude, have pitched upon that of eggs. And yet
there have been men, particularly one at Delphos,
who could distinguish marks of difference amongst
eggs so well, that he never mistook one for another;
and, having many hens, could tell which had laid
it.t Dissimilitude intrudes itself into our works; no
art can arrive at a perfect similitude. Neither Pe-
rozet, nor any other cardmaker, can so carefully
polish and blanch the backs of his cards, that some
gamesters will not distinguish them by only seeing
them shuffled by another: resemblance does not so
much make one, as difference makes another. Na-
ture has obliged herself to make nothing like to
another.
And yet I am not much pleased with his opinion,
use is the who thought by the multitude of laws to curb the
ty of laws. authority of judges, by retrenching them. He was
not aware that there is as much latitude in the inter-
pretation of laws, as in their form; and they de-
ceive themselves, who think to lessen and stop our
* Manilius, lib. i. ver. 61.
+ Cic. Acad. Quæst. lib. iv. cap. 18.
OF EXPERIENCE.
359
66
debates by summoning us to the express words of
the Bible: since human wit finds as large a field for
controverting the sense of another, as for delivering
his own; and, as if there were less animosity and
bitterness in glossing than inventing. We see how
much he was deceived; for we have more laws in
France, than in all the rest of the world besides;
and more than would be necessary for the regulation
of all the worlds of Epicurus: Ut olim flagitiis, sic
nunc legibus laboramus:* " So that as formerly we
were plagued with vices, we are now as sick of
"the laws:" yet we have left so much to the opi-
nion and decision of our judges, that there never
was so full and uncontrolled a liberty. What have
our legislators got by culling out a hundred thou-
sand particular cases and facts, and by adding to
those, a hundred thousand laws? This number holds
no manner of proportion with the infinite diversity
of human actions; the multiplications of our inven-
tion will never reach the variety of examples. Add
to them a hundred times as many more, yet it will
never happen that, of events to come, any one will
fall out, that, in the millions of events so chosen and
recorded, shall so tally with any one, and be so ex-
actly coupled and compared with it, that there will
not remain some circumstance and diversity which
will require a variation of judgment. There is little
relation between our actions that are in perpetual
mutation, and the laws that are fixed and immove-
able; the most to be desired, are those which are
the most rare, the most simple, and general: and I
am farther of opinion, that we were better to have
none at all, than to have them so numerous.
:
nature bet-
Nature always gives them better, than those are The laws of
which we make ourselves; witness the picture of ter than
the poets' golden age, and the state wherein we see our own.
nations live, who have no other. Some there are, Passengers
who, for their only judge, take the first passer by for judges.
* Tacit. lib. iii. cap. 25.
made use of
T
360
OF EXPERIENCE.
{
How it
comes to
tongue,
which
that travels along their mountains, to determine their
cause: and others, who, on their market-day, choose
out some one amongst them, who decides all their con
troversies on the spot. What danger would there
be, if the wisest should thus determine ours, accord-
ing to occurrences, and by sight, without obligation
of example and consequence? Every shoe to his own
foot. When king Ferdinand sent colonies to the
Indies, he wisely provided that they should not
carry along with them any students of the long robe,
'lest law-suits should get footing in that new world;
as being a science, in its own nature, the mother of
altercation and division; judging with Plato, that
lawyers and physicians are the pests of a country.*
1
How comes it to pass that our common language,
pass, that so easy for all other uses, becomes obscure, and un-
the vulgar intelligible in wills and contracts? And that he who
so clearly expresses himself, whatever he speaks or
serves for writes,. cannot find in this any way of declaring him-
self which is not liable to doubt and contradiction?
becomes If it be not, that the great men of this art, applying
and ambi- themselves with peculiar attention to cull out hard
guous in words, and form artful clauses, have so weighed
and testa- every syllable, and so thoroughly sifted every sort
every other
purpose,
obscure
covenants
ments.
of connection, that they are now confounded and en-
tangled in the infinity of figures, and so many mi-
nute divisions, that they can no longer be liable to
any rule or prescription, nor any certain intelli-
gence. Confusum est quicquid usque in pulverem
sectum est: "Whatever is beaten into powder is
"confused." As you have seen children try to
bring a mass of quicksilver into a certain number of
parts, the more they press and work it, and endea-
vour to reduce it to their own will, the more they
irritate the liberty of this generous metal; it baffles
their art, and subdivides and sparkles itself into so
many separate bodies, as are innumerable; so it is
here; for in subdividing these subtleties, men are
* De Repub. lib. iii. p. 621.
+ Sen. epist. 79.
OF EXPERIENCE.
361
}
•
apt to increase their doubts; they are led into a way
of stretching and diversifying difficulties, which are
lengthened and dispersed. By starting and splitting
of questions, they make the world fructify and
abound in uncertainties and disputes; as the earth is
made fertile, the deeper it is ploughed and the more
it is harrowed. Difficultatem facit doctrina: " Doc-
"trine begets difficulty." We doubted of Ulpian,
and are now more perplexed with Bartolus and Bal-
dus. We should blot out the trace of this innume-
rable diversity of opinions, not adorn ourselves
with it, and intoxicate posterity. I know not what
to say to it, but experience makes it manifest, that
so many interpretations divide truth, and mar it.
Aristotle wrote to be understood, which if he could
not be, much less will another that is not so good at
it; and a third than he who expressed his own
thoughts. We open the matter, and spill it in pour-
ing out. Of one subject we make a thousand, and in
multiplying and subdividing them, relapse into the
infinity of the atoms of Epicurus. Never did two
men make the same judgment of the same thing;
and it is impossible to find two opinions exactly
alike, not only in several men, but in the same men,
at different times. I oft find matter of doubt, of
things which the commentary disdains to take no-
tice of. I am most apt to stumble on even ground,
like some horses that I have known, which make
most trips in the smoothest way.

-
commenta-
scure the
text, and
that of the
Who will not say that glosses augment doubts and Glosses and
ignorance, since there is no one book to be found, ries only
either human or divine, which the world busies it- serve to ob-
self about, whose difficulties are cleared by inter-
pretation. The hundredth commentator still refers especially
you to the next, more knotty and perplexed than books of
he. When were we ever agreed amongst ourselves, the law.
that a book had enough, and that there was no more
to be said on the subject? This is most apparent in
the law pleadings. We give the authority of law to
innumerable doctors, arrets ad infinitum, and to as
362
OF EXPERIENCE.
It does
many interpretations; yet do we find any end of the
necessity of interpreting? Is there for all that any
progress or advancement towards tranquillity; or do
we stand in need of any fewer advocates and judges,
than when this mass of law was yet in its infancy?
We, on the contrary, obscure and bury the sense of
it. We discover no more of it than what so many
inclosures and barriers will permit. Men are not
sensible of the natural disease of the mind.
nothing but ferret and inquire, and is eternally
wheeling, plodding, and perplexing itself; and like
the silk-worm, suffocates itself in its own web; or
like mus in pice, "A mouse in a tar-barrel," which,
the more it struggles to get out, is the more en-
tangled. It thinks it discovers at a great dis-
tance I know not what glimpse of imaginary light
and truth; but whilst it runs to it, so many difficul-
ties, hindrances, and new inquisitions cross its way,
as mislead and intoxicate it. Not much unlike
Æsop's dog, that seeing something like a dead body
floating in the sea, and not being able to approach
it, attempted to drink the water, in order to lay the
passage dry, and so drowned itself. To which tal-
lies, what one Crates* said of the writings of Hera-
clitus, "That they required a reader who could
"swim well, that the depth and weight of his doc-
"trine might not overwhelm and choke him."+ It is
nothing but particular weakness that makes us con-
tent ourselves with what others, or ourselves, have
found out in this pursuit of knowledge; those of bet-
ter understanding would not rest so content; there
is always room, and to spare, for one to succeed, nay
even for ourselves, and every one else; there is no
end of our inquiries; our end is in the other world.
It is a sign either of a contracted mind when it is sa-
tisfied, or that it is grown weary. No generous
* According to Diog. Laert. lib. ii. sect. 22, this was not Crates,
but Socrates, who said of the writings of Heraclitus, that they had
need of as excellent divers as any in the isle of Delos.
+ Suidas in Δηλίνα κολυμβετε.
OF EXPERIENCE.
363
mind stops of itself; it always pushes on, and be-
yond its power; it has sallies beyond its compass.
If it do not advance and press forward, and fall
back, rush, turn and wheel about, it is but sprightly
by halves; its pursuits are without bound or me-
thod; its aliment is admiration; ambiguity the
chase; which Apollo plainly declared, by always
speaking to us in a double, obscure, and oblique
sense; not feeding, but amusing and puzzling us.
It is an irregular and perpetual motion, without ex-
ample and without aim. Its inventions heat, pur-
sue, and introduce one another:
'1
Ainsi voit-on en un ruisseau coulant,
Sans fin l'une eau, apres l'autre roulant;
Et tout de rang, d'un eternel conduit,
L'une fuit l'autre, et l'une l'autre fuit.
Par cette-ci, celle-là est poussée,
Et cette-ci par l'autre est devancée :
Toujours l'eau va dans l'eau, et toujours est-ce
Même ruisseau, et toujours eau diverse.
So in a running stream, where currents play,
Successive waves still urge their liquid way,
And as they swiftly glide along the shore,
Each presses to o'ertake what's gone before.
By this that's evermore push'd on, and this
By that continually preceded is :
In the same course the river ceaseless flows,
But still new waves the varied mass compose.
There is more ado to interpret interpretations than
things, and more books upon books than upon any
other subject; we do nothing but comment upon
one another. Every place swarms with commenta
aries; but of authors there is great scarcity. Is it
not the principal and most reputed knowledge of our
times to understand the learned? Is it not the com-
mon and final aim of all studies? Our opinions are
grafted upon one another; the first serves for a
stock to the second, the second to the third, thus
step by step we climb the ladder. From whence it
comes to pass, that he who is mounted highest has
oft more honour than merit; for he is got up but a
364
OF EXPERIENCE.
Our dis-
putes are
grain upon the shoulders of the last but one. How
oft, and perhaps how foolishly, have I stretched my
book, to make it speak of itself? Foolishly, if for no
other reason but this, that I ought to call to mind
what I say of others who do the same; that the fond.
looks they so often cast upon their works, witness
that their hearts pant with self-love, and that even
the disdainful reproaches wherewith they lash them,
are no other than the dissembled caresses of a mater-
nal kindness; according to Aristotle, whose valuing
and undervaluing himself, frequently spring from
the same air of arrogancy: I urge for my excuse,
that I ought in this to have more liberty than others,
because I purposely treat of myself and of my writ-
ings, as I do of my other actions; but though my
theme turn upon itself, I know not whether or no
every one else will take such liberty.
I have observed in Germany, that Luther has left
endless, as many and more divisions and disputes behind
and most of him, about the doubt of his opinions, than he him-
words. self raised about the holy scriptures. Our contest is
them about
*
verbal. I demand what nature is, what pleasure,
circle, and substitution are? The question is about
words, and is answered in the same coin. A stone
is a body, but if a man should farther urge, and
what is a body? Substance; and what is substance?
and so on, he would drive the respondent to the
end of his dictionary. We exchange one word for
another, and often for one less understood. I bet-
ter know what man is, than I know what animal is,
or mortal, or rational. To satisfy one doubt, they
give me ground for three; it is the Hydra's head.
Socrates tasked Menon what virtue was ; · "There
" is," says Menon," the virtue of a man and of a
* We need go no farther than the English philosopher Locke,
famous for his penetration and the incomparable rectitude of his
judgment, who has plainly shown, that we have no clear, exact idea
of what we call substance, lib. i. chap. 4, sect. 10, and lib. ii, chap.
23, sect. 2, &c. of his Essay on the Human Understanding.
+ Plato, in Menone, p. 409.
OF EXPERIENCE.
365
SO
« woman, of a magistrate and of a private person, of
"an old man, and of a child." "Very well," says
Socrates, "we were in quest of one virtue, and thou
"hast brought us a swarm; we put one question,
" and thou returnest a whole hive." As no event,
nor form entirely resembles another;
there is not one that entirely differs from another;
such is the ingenious mixture of nature. If our faces
were not alike, we could not distinguish man from
beast; if they were not unlike, we could not distin-
guish one man from another. All things hold by
some similitude, every example halts. And the re-
lation which is drawn from experience is always
faulty and imperfect; comparisons are always cou-
pled at one end or other; so do the laws serve, and
are fitted to every one of our affairs by some wrested,
biassed, and forced interpretation.
laws that
a state.
Since the moral laws, that concern the particular Imperfec-
duty of every one in himself, are so hard to be tion of the
taught and observed, as we see they are; it is no concern the
wonder if those which govern so many particulars, subjects of
are much more so. Do but consider the form of
this justice that governs us, it is a true testimony of
human weakness, so full it is of error and contradic-
tion. What we find to be favour and severity in jus-
tice (and we find so much of both, that I know not
whether the medium is so often met with), are sickly
parts, and unjust members of the very body and es-
sence of justice. The country people come to bring
me news, in great haste, that they just left, in a fo-
rest of mine, a man with a hundred wounds upon
him, who was yet breathing, and begged of them
water for pity's sake, and help to raise him up; say-
ing, they durst not come near him, but ran away,
lest the officers of justice should catch them there;
and for fear, as it falls out with those who are found
near a murdered person, they should be called in
question about this accident to their utter ruin, hav-
ing neither money nor any means to defend their in-
nocence. What should I have said to these people?
366
OF EXPERIENCE.
Known in-
nished in
sance to
law.
It is certain that this office of humanity would have
brought them into trouble.
How many innocents have we known that have
nocents been punished, even without the judge's fault, and
complai- how many more are there that have not arrived at
the forms of our knowledge? this case happened in my time.
Certain men were condemned to die for a murder
committed and their sentence, if not pronounced,
was at least determined and concluded on. The
judges, just in the nick, are advertised by the offi-
cers of an inferior court hard by, that they have
some men in custody, who have directly confessed
the said murder, and give such light into the fact,
as is not to be doubted. It was then notwithstand-
ing put to the question, whether or no they ought
to suspend execution of the sentence already passed
upon the former. They considered the novelty of
the example, and the consequence of staying judg
ments, that the sentence of death was duly passed,
and the judges could not retract. To conclude,
these poor devils were sacrificed to the forms of law.
Philip, or some other, provided against a like incon-
venience, after this manner. He had condemned a
man to pay a great fine to another, by a determined
judgment. The truth some time after being disco-
vered, it appeared he had passed an unjust sentence;
on one side was the reason of the cause, on the other
side the reason of the judiciary forms. He in some
sort satisfied both, leaving the sentence in the state
it was, and out of his own purse paying the costs of
the condemned party. But he had to do in a repa-
rable affair; mine were irreparably hanged. How
many sentences have I seen more criminal than the
crimes?
The inno-
cent man is
not sure of
his life or
❝
All this makes me remember the ancient opinions,
That of necessity a man must do wrong by retail,
property, "who will do right in the gross; and injustice in
by putting little things, that will have it in his power to do
justice in great: that human justice is formed
hands of "after the model of physic, according to which, all
himself in-
to the
justice.
c
OF EXPERIENCE.
367
that is useful, is also just and honest; and what is
"held by the Stoics, that nature herself proceeds
"contrary to justice in most of her works;" and
what is received by the Cyrenaics,* "That there is
"nothing just in itself, but that customs and laws
"make justice :" and what the Theodorians hold,
who maintain theft, sacrilege, and all sorts of un-
cleanliness just in a wise man,† if he knows them to
be profitable to him; there is no remedy; I am in
the same case that Alcibiades was, that I will ne-
ver, if I can help it, put myself into the hands of a
man who shall determine of my head, whether my life
and honour shall more depend upon the care and di-
ligence of my attorney, than upon my own inno-
cence. I would venture myself with such a justice
as would take notice of my good deeds as well as my
ill, and where I had as much to hope as to fear. In-
demnity is not sufficient satisfaction to a man who
does better than not to do amiss; but our justice
presents us only one hand, and that the left hand
too; let him be who he will, he shall be sure to go
off with loss.
tablished in
In China, of which kingdom the government and Judges es-
arts, without correspondence with, or knowledge China to
of ours, surpass our best examples in several parts good ac-
reward
punish the
of excellence; and of which the history gives me to tions, as
understand how much greater and more various the well as to
world is, than either the ancients or we can pene- bad.
trate; the officers deputed by the prince to visit the
state of his provinces, as they punish those who be-
have themselves ill in their places, so do they libe-
rally reward those who have carried themselves
above the common sort, and beyond the necessity of
their duty: they there present themselves, not only
to be protected, but to get; not simply to be paid,
but to be rewarded.
* Diog. Laert. in the Life of Aristippus, lib. ii. sect. 92.
+ Ibid. sect. 99.
$68
OF EXPERIENCE.
1
Montaigne
never had
a suit in
of justice.
•
No judge, thanks be to God, ever yet spoke to
me, in the quality of a judge, upon any cause what-
any court ever, whether my own or that of another, whether'
criminal or civil; nor was I ever within the walls of a
prison. Imagination renders the very outside of a
gaol my aversion:. I am so fond of liberty, that should
I be debarred access to any corner of the Indies, I
would be somewhat uneasy. And whilst I can find
either earth or air elsewhere, I shall never lurk
where I must hide myself. Good God! how ilh
should I bear to be confined, as many people are, to
a corner of the kingdom, deprived of the privilege
of entering into the principal cities and courts, and
the liberty of the public roads, for having quarrelled
with our laws. If those under which I live, should
but wag a finger at me, by way of menace, I would
immediately go seek out others, let them be where
they would; all my little prudence in the civil war,
wherein we are now engaged, is employed, that they
may not hinder my egress and regress.
What it
was that in
Mon-
taigne's
up the cre-
French
spects very
ble.
Now the laws keep up their credit, not for being
'just, but because they are laws: it is the mystical
and the sole foundation of their authority; and it is
time kept well it is so; they being oft made by fools; for the
dit of the most part by men that, out of hatred to equality, fail
laws, in in equity; but always by men who are vain and
other re- fickle authors. There is nothing so grossly, nor so
unreasona- commonly faulty as the laws. Whoever obeys them
because they are just, does not justly obey them as
he ought. Our French laws, by their irregularity
and deformity, in some sort lend a helping hand to
disorder and corruption, as is manifest in their dis-
pensation and execution. The command is so per-
plexed and inconstant, that it in some measure ex-
cuses both disobedience, and the vice of the inter-
pretation, the administration and the observation of
it. What fruit then soever we may reap from expe-
rience, will be. of little service to our instruction,
which we draw from foreign examples; if we make
so little profit of that we have of our own, which is
OF EXPERIENCE.
369
•
I
more familiar to us, and doubtless sufficient to in-
struct us in that whereof we have absolute need.
study myself more than any other subject; this is
my metaphysic, this my natural philosophy:
Quâ Deus hanc mundi temperet arte domum,*
Qua venit exoriens, quâ deficit, unde 'coactis
Cornibus in plenum menstrua luna edit :
Unde salo superant venti, quid flamine captet
Eurus, et in nubes unde perennis aqua.
Sit ventura dies mundi quæ subruat arces :
Quærite, quos agitat mundi labor.†
By what means God the universe does sway,
Or how the pale-fac'd sister of the day,
When, in increasing, can her horns unite,
Till they contract into a full orb'd light;
Why ocean of the winds the hetter get,
Why Eurus blows, and clouds are always wet;
What day the world's great fabric must o'erthrow,
Let them inquire, who would its secrets know.
4.
The
In this university, I suffer myself to be ignorantly
and negligently led by the general law of the world.
I shall know it well enough when I feel it; my learn-
ing cannot make it alter its course; it will not
change itself for me; it is folly to hope it, and a
greater folly to concern a man's self about it, seeing
it is necessarily alike, public and common.
bounty and capacity of the governor most absolutely
discharge us of all care of the government. Philoso-
phical inquisitions and contemplations serve for no
other use but to feed our curiosity. Philosophers,
with great reason, refer us to the rules of nature;
but they have no need of so sublime a knowledge:
they falsify them, and present us with nature's face
painted with too high-coloured and too adulterate a
complexion, from whence spring so many different
pictures of so uniform a subject. As she has given
us feet to walk with, so has she given us prudence
to guide us in life; not such an ingenious, robust,
and majestic prudence as that of their invention, but
† Lucan. lib. i. ver. 417.
* Prop. lib. iii. eleg. 5, ver. 25, &c.

VOL. III.
2 B
370
OF EXPERIENCE.
yet one that is easy, quiet, and salutary; and such
very well performs what the other promises, in him
who has the good luck to know how to employ it
sincerely and regularly, that is to say, according to
nature. The most simply to commit a man's self to
nature, is to do it the most wisely. Oh what a soft,
easy, and wholesome pillow is ignorance and incurio-
sity, whereon to repose a well turned head! I had
rather understand myself well in myself, than in Ci-
cero. Of the experience I have of myself, I find
enough to make me wise, if I were but a good scho-
lar. Whoever calls to mind the excess of his past
anger, and to what a degree that fever transports
him, sees the deformity of this passion better than in
Aristotle, and conceives a more just hatred against
it. Whoever remembers the hazards he has run,
those that threatened him, and the slight occasions
that have removed him from one state to another,
does by that prepare himself for future changes, and
the acknowledgment of his condition. The life of
Cæsar himself is no more exemplary for us than our
own, and though it was popular and commanding, it
was still a life liable to all human accidents. Let us
but listen to it, and we apply to ourselves all whereof
we have principal need. Whoever calls to memory,
how many times he has been mistaken in his own
judgment, is he not a great fool if he does not ever
after suspect it? When I find myself convinced, by
another's reason, of a false opinion, I do not so
much learn what he has said to me that is new,
which particular ignorance would be no great pur-
chase, as I do in general my own weakness, and the
treachery of my understanding, from whence I ex-
tract the reformation of the whole mass.
In all my
other errors I do the same, and find this rule greatly
beneficial to life. I regard not the species and indi-
vidual, as a stone that I have stumbled at; I learn to
suspect my steps every-where, and am careful to
place them right. To learn that a man has said or
done a foolish thing, is a thing of no moment. A
man must learn that he is nothing but a fool, a much
OF EXPERIENCE,
371
more ample and important instruction. The false
steps that my memory has so often betrayed me into,
even then when it was most secure of itself, are not
idly thrown away; it may now swear to me, and as-
sure me as much as it will, I shake my head, and
dare not trust it; the first opposition that is made to
my testimony, puts me in suspense and I durst
not rely upon it in any thing of moment, nor war,
rant it in another person's concerns: and were it
not that what I do for want of memory, others do
more often for want of sincerity, I would always in
matter of fact, rather choose to take truth from
another's mouth than my own. If every one did
but watch the effects and circumstances of the pas-
sions that sway him, as I have done that which I am
most subject to, he would see them coming, and
would a little break their impetuosity and career;
they do not always seize us on a sudden, there are
threatenings, and degrees:
Fluctus uti primo cœpit cùm albescere vento,
Paulatim sese tollit mare, et altiùs undas
Erigit, inde imo consurgit ad æthera fundo.*
As the sea first begins to foam and fret,
Thence higher swells, higher, and higher yet,
Till at the last so high the billows rise,
They seem to bid defiance to the skies.
Judgment holds in me a magisterial seat; at least, it
carefully endeavours to make it so it lets my appe-
tites take their own course, as hatred and friend-
ship; nay, even that which I bear to myself, with-
out suffering alteration and corruption. If it cannot
reform the other parts according to its own model,
at least it suffers not itself to be corrupted by them,
but plays its game apart. That admonition to every
one to know themselves, ought to be of important
effect, since the God of wisdom and light caused it
to be written on the front of his temple, as compre-
hending all he had to advise us. Plato says also,
* Virg. Æneid. lib. vii. ver. 528, &c.
2 B 2
372
OF EXPERIENCE.
·
that prudence is nothing but the execution of this
ordinance; and Socrates verifies it by piece-meal in
Xenophon. The difficulties and obscurity are not
discerned in any science, but by those that are got
into it; for a certain degree of understanding is re-
quisite to be able to know that a man is ignorant:
and we must push at a door to know whether it be
bolted against us. From hence this Platonic sub-
tlety springs, that neither they who know are to in-
quire, forasmuch as they know; nor they who do
not know, forasmuch as to inquire, they must know
what they inquire of. So in this of knowing a
man's self, that which every man is seen so resolved
and satisfied in with himself, and that which every
man thinks he sufficiently understands, signifies,
that every one understands nothing at all of the mat-
ter; as Socrates tells Euthydemus. I, who profess
nothing else, therein find so infinite a depth and va-
riety, that all the fruit I have reaped from my learn-
ing, serves only to make me sensible how much I
have to learn. To my weakness, so often confessed,
I owe the propensity I have to modesty, my assent
to the articles of belief imposed upon me, a con-
stant faintness and moderation in my opinions, and
a hatred of that troublesome and wrangling arro-
gance, wholly believing and trusting in itself, the
capital enemy of discipline and truth. Do but hear
how they advance and domineer; the first fooleries
they utter, are in the style wherewith men establish
religion and laws. Nihil est turpius quàm cognitioni
et perceptioni assertionem, approbationemque præcur-
rere:*Nothing is more absurd than that assertion
"and approbation should precede knowledge and
"perception." Aristarchus said that anciently
there was scarce seven wise men to be found in the
world, and in his time scarce so many fools. Have
not we more reason than he to say so in this age?
affirmation, and obstinacy, are express signs of stu-
* Cic. Acad. lib. i. cap. 12.
OF EXPERIENCE.
373
pidity. If a fellow has stumbled and had a hundred
falls in a day, yet he will be at his ergo's as resolute
and sturdy as before; so that one would conclude
he had had some new soul and vigour of understand-
ing infused into him; and that it happened to him
as it did to that ancient son of Tellus, who took
fresh courage, and was made stronger by his fall:
Cui cùm tetigere parentem,
Jam defecta vigent renovato robore membra.*
Whose broken limbs upon his mother laid,
Immediately new force and vigour had.
:
Does not this incorrigible coxcomb think that he
assumes a new understanding, by undertaking a new
dispute? I accuse human ignorance by my own
experience, which is in my opinion the world's best
school-master. Such as will not conclude it so in
themselves, by so vain an example as mine, or their
own, let them believe it from Socrates, the master of
masters. For the philosopher Antisthenes said to
his disciples," Let us go, and hear Socrates; I will
"be a pupil with you."+ And maintaining this
doctrine of his Stoical sect, that virtue was sufficient
to make a life completely happy, he added, it had no
need of any other thing whatever, except the vigour
of Socrates. The long attention that I have em-
ployed in considering myself, also fits me to judge
tolerably of others; and there are few things where-
of I speak better, and more excusably. I happen
very oft to see and distinguish the qualities of my
friends more nicely than they do themselves. I have
astonished some with the pertinence of my descrip-
tion, and have given them warning of themselves.
By having from my infancy been accustomed to con-
template my own life in that of others, I have ac-
quired a complexion studious in that particular.
And when I am once intent upon it, I let few things
* Lucan. lib. iv. ver. 599.
+ Diog. Laert. in the Life of Antisthenes, lib. vi. sect. 2.
374
OF EXPERIENCE.
about me, whether countenances, humours, or dis-
courses which serve to that purpose, escape me. I
study all, both what I am to avoid, and what I am to
follow. Also in my friends, I discover their inward
inclinations by their productions; not by ranging
this infinite variety of so different and detached ac-
tions into certain species and chapters, not distinctly
distributing my parcels and divisions under known
heads and classes:
Sed neque quàm multa species, nec nomina quæ sint,
Est numerus.*
But not the number of their kind and names,
They are too many.
་
The learned speak and deliver their fancies more
specifically, and by piece-meal. I, who see no far-
ther into things than as custom informs.me, generally
give mine by way of experiment, without form and
method. As in this, I pronounce my opinion by
loose and disjointed articles; it is a thing that can-
not be spoken at once, and in gross. Relation and
conformity are not to be found in such low and com-
mon souls as ours. Wisdom is a solid and entire
building, of which every piece keeps its place, and
carries its mark. Sola sapientia in se tota conversa
est.† "Wisdom only is wholly turned into itself.”
I leave it to artists (and I know not whether or
no they will be able to bring it about in a thing so
perplexed, small, and casual) to marshal into distinct
bodies this infinite diversity of faces, and to settle
and regulate our inconstancy. I not only find it
hard to piece our actions to one another, but I like-
wise find it very hard to design them properly every
one by themselves by any principal quality, so ambi-
guous and capricious they are by the several lights.
What is remarked for rare in Perseus, king of Mace-
don, that his mind, fixing itself to no one condition,
* Vir. Geor. lib. ii. ver. 103, where he is speaking of the innu-
merable kinds of grapes.
+ Cic. de Fin. lib. iii. cap. 7.
OF EXPERIENCE.
375
wandered through all sorts of life, and behaved in a
manner so wild and extravagant, that it was neither
known by himself, or any other, what kind of man
he was,* seems almost to suit all mankind. And I
have seen another of his temper, to whom I think
this conclusion might more properly be applied: he
kept no medium, but was still running headlong from
one extreme to another, upon occasions not to be
guessed at; he steered no manner of course without
wonderful contrariety; and had no one quality un-
compounded: so that the best guess that man can
one day make, will be that he affected and studied to
make himself known, by being not to be known. A
man had need have good ears to hear himself frankly
censured. And as there are few that can bear this
without being nettled, those who hazard the under-
taking it to us, manifest a singular effect of friend-
ship; for it is sincere love indeed, to attempt to hurt
and offend us for our own good. I think it rude to
censure a man whose ill qualities are more than his
good ones. Plato requires three things in him that
will examine the soul of another, to wit, knowledge,
good will, and boldness.†
I was once asked what I would have thought my-
self fit for, had any one designed to make use of me
in
my younger years:
Dum melior vires sanguis dabat, æmula necdum
Temporibus geminis canebat sparsa senectus.‡
Whilst better blood my limbs with vigour fed,
And ere old age had snow'd upon my head.
And I am willing enough to Montaigne
any thing, that may en- would have
But I would have told person to
been a fit
For nothing, said I.
excuse my inability to do
slave myself to another.
these truths to my sovereign, and have controlled his talk freely
manners, if he had so pleased; not in gross by scho reign, to
Tit. Liv. lib. xii. cap. 20.
+ Socrates, in Plato's dialogue, entitled Georgias.
Eneid. lib. v. ver. 415.
to his sove-
$76
OF EXPERIENCE.
tell him
to teach
him to
know him-
self.
·
lastic lessons, which I understand not, and from
truths, and which indeed I see no true reformation spring in
those that do; but by observing them gradually, at
all opportunities, and simply and naturally judging
them by the eye, and distinctly one by one, giving
him to understand upon what terms he was in
the common.opinion, in opposition to his flatterers.
There is none of us that would not be worse than
kings, if so continually corrupted as they are with
that sort of vermin. Could even Alexander, that
great king and philosopher, defend himself from
them? I would have fidelity, judgment, and free-
dom enough for that purpose. This would be a
nameless office; otherwise it would lose both its
grace and effect; and it is a part that is not indiffer-
ently fit for all men. For truth itself has not the
privilege to be spoken at all times, and in all events;
the use of it, noble as it is, has its circumscriptions
and limits. It oft falls out, as the world now goes,
that a man lets it slip into the ear of a prince, not
only to no purpose, but even injuriously and un-
justly. No man shall make me believe, that a vir-
tuous remonstrance may not be viciously applied,
and that the interest of the substance is not oft to
give place to that of the form.
Who
would be
the most
proper
person for
For such a purpose, I would have a man that is
content with his own fortune:
Quod sit, esse velit, nihilque malit.*
Who likes that present state of his,
And would not be but what he is.
and born to a moderate fortune; as on the one
hand he would not scruple to touch his sovereign's
heart to the quick, for fear of losing his preferment,
the exer- and on the other, by being of a middling quality, he
cise of this would have more easy communication with all sorts
of people: And I would have this office limited to
only one man, because to diffuse the privilege of this
office to
princes.
* Mart. Ep. lib. x. epig. 47, ver. 12.
OF EXPERIENCE.
877
liberty and privacy to many, would beget an incon-
venient irreverence; and even of that one too, I
would above all things require the fidelity of silence.
kings are
son.
A king is not to be believed when he boasts of How much
his constancy in standing the shock of the enemy for in want of
his glory, if for his profit and amendment, he cannot such a per-
bear the freedom of a friend's advice, which can do
no more than sting his ear, the remainder of its ef
fect being still in his own power. Now, there is no
rank of men whatever who stand in so great need of
true and free admonition as they do. They act in a
public sphere, and have so many spectators to please,
that when men have used to conceal from them
whatever would divert them from their own course,
they insensibly have found themselves involved in
the hatred and detestation of their people, sometimes Free ad-
upon such slight occasions as they might have avoided vice neces-
without any prejudice, even to their pleasures, had kings.
they been advised and set right in time. Their
favourites commonly have more regard to themselves,
than they have to their sovereigns; and indeed it
stands them upon, as in truth most offices of true
friendship, when applied to the sovereign, are dis-
agreeable and dangerous in the essay; so that therein
there is need, not only of very great affection and
freedom, but of courage too.
sary for
may be de-
Mon-
To conclude, all this medley of things here com- The advan-
piled is nothing but a register of my own experi- tage that
ments in life, which for its internal soundness is ex-rived from
emplary enough to take instruction against the taigne's
grain; but as to bodily health, no man can furnish Essays for
out more profitable experience than I, who present it of the soul,
pure, and no way corrupted and changed by art and and much
opinion. Experience is properly upon its own dung-that of the
hill in the subject of physic, where reason wholly body.
gives it place. Tiberius said, that whoever had
*
* I cannot imagine where Montaigne met with that saying of Ti-
berius, that after the age of 20 years, a
nothing to do with physical remedies.
that Tiberius, after he was 30 years of age,
man ought to have
Suetonius only says,
governed his health
the health
inore for

378
OF EXPERIENCE.
lived twenty years, ought to be responsible to him-
self for all things that were hurtful or wholesome to
him, and to know how to order himself without
physic. And he might have learned it of Socrates,
who, advising his disciples to be solicitous of their
health, and to make it their chief study, added, that
it was hard if a man of sense, that took care of his
exercises and diet, did not better know than any
physician, what was good or bad for him. Indeed
physic professes always to have experience for the
touch-stone of its operations. And Plato was right
when he said, that to be a true physician, he who
professed that science should first himself have passed
through all the diseases he pretends to cure, and
through all the accidents and circumstances whereof
he is to judge. It is but reason they should get the
pox, if they will know how to cure it: for my part,
I would choose to put myself into such hands; for
the others only guide us, like him who paints the sea,
rocks, and ports, and draws the model of a ship as
he sits safe at his table; but send him to sea, he
knows not what course to steer. They make such a
description of our maladies, as a town-crier does of
a lost horse, or dog, of such a colour, such a height,
such an ear; but bring the animal to him, and he
knows him not for all that. God grant that physic
may one day give me some good and visible relief,
namely, when I shall cry out in good earnest:
Tandem efficaci do manus scientiæ.*
At length I own the power of thy pill,
And let its operation cure or kill.
The arts that promise to keep our bodies and souls
after his own fancy, and without the help and advice of physicians.
Sueton. in the Life of Tiberius, sect. 68. And Plutarch tells us, in
his excellent Treatise of the Rules and Precepts for Health, that he
remembered to have heard, that Tiberius used to say, that the man
who after threescore years of age held his hand out to a physician
to feel his pulse, deserved to be laughed at for a fool. Chap. 23
of Amyot's translation.
* Hor. epode 17, ver. 1.
OF EXPERIENCE.
379
in health, promise a great deal, but there is none
that less keep their promise. And in our times,
those that make profession of these arts amongst us,
manifest the effects of them less than all other men.
One may say of them at the most, that they sell me-
dicinal drugs; but that they are physicians a man can-
not say. I have lived so long as to be able to give
an account of my practice hitherto. And, for who-
ever has a mind to read it, as his taster, I give him
this essay, of which these are some articles, as they
occur to my memory. I have no custom that has
not varied according to accidents; but I record
those to which I have been most used, and that
hitherto have had the greatest possession of me.
course of
same in
My form of life is the same in sickness as in Mon-
health; the same bed, the same hours, the same taigne's
meats, and the same liquors serve me; I add nothing life, the
to them but greater or less moderation, according to sickness as
my strength and appetite. My health consists in in health.
maintaining my wonted state without disturbance. I
see that sickness deprives me of it on one hand, and
if I will be ruled by the physicians, they will rob me
of it on the other hand; so that both by fortune and
by art I am put out of my road.
I believe nothing
more certainly than this, that I cannot be hurt by
the use of things to which I have been so long ac-
customed. It is custom that gives the form to a
man's life, as it best pleases her, who in that is all in
all: it is the beverage of Circe that varies our nature
how it pleases. How many nations, and but a little
way from us, think our fear of the sun's exhalations
in a very clear day, that so manifestly hurt us, ridi-
culous, and our very watermen and peasants laugh at
it.
You make a German sick if you lay him upon
a mattress, as you do an Italian if you put him on a
feather-bed; and a Frenchman without curtains and
a fire. A Spanish stomach cannot hold out to eat as
we can, nor ours to drink like the Swiss. A German
made me very merry at Augsbourg in finding fault
with our hearths by the same arguments which we
380
OF EXPERIENCE.
*
commonly make use of in decrying their stoves: for,
to say the truth, that smothered heat, and the scent
too of that matter with which they are heated again
and again, offend most people who are not used to
them, but not me; yet as to the rest, this heat
being equal, constant, and universal, without flame,
without smoke, and without the wind that comes
down our chimnies, they may in other respects en-
dure comparison with ours. Why do we not imitate
the Roman architecture? For, they say, that an-
ciently fires were not made in their houses, but on the
outside, and at the bottom of them, from whence the
heat was conveyed to the whole fabric by pipes con-
trived in the wall, which were drawn twining about
the rooms that were to be warmed: which I have
seen plainly described somewhere in Seneca. This
German gentleman, hearing me commend the con-
veniences and beauties of his city, which truly de-
serves it, began to pity me that I was to go away.
And the first inconvenience he alleged to me was,
the dizziness which the chimneys elsewhere brought
He had heard some one make this com-
upon me.
plaint, and fixed it upon us, he being by custom de-
prived of the means of perceiving it in his house.
All heat that comes from fire makes me weak and
dull, and yet Evenus said, that fire was the best con-
diment of life. I rather choose any other way of
making myself warm. We are afraid to drink our
wines when towards the bottom of the vessel; in
Portugal those fumes are reputed delicate, and is the
beverage of princes. In fine, every nation has seve-
Portugal. ral customs and usances, that are not only unknown,
but savage and miraculous to some others. What
should we do with those people who admit of no tes-
timonies if not printed, who believe not men if not
in a book, nor truth if not of competent age? We
dignify our fopperies when we commit them to the
press. It is of a great deal more weight to him you
speak of, to say, "I have seen such a thing," than
if you only say, "I have heard such a thing." But I,
Palled
wine in
esteem in
OF EXPERIENCE.
381
who no more disbelieve a man's mouth than his pen,
and who know that men write as indiscreetly as they
speak, and that esteem this age as much as one that
is past, do as soon quote a friend of my acquaintance
as Aulus Gellius or Macrobius, and what I have seen
as what they have wrote. And, as it is held of vir-
tue, that it is not greater for having continued longer,
so do I hold of truth, that for being older it is not
wiser. I often say, that is mere folly that makes us
run after strange and scholastic examples. Their
fertility is the same now that it was in the time of
Homer and Plato. But is it not that we derive more
honour from the quotation than from the truth of the
discourse? As if it were to borrow our proof from
the shops of Vascosan, or of Plantin, than of what is
to be seen in our own village: or else, indeed, that
we have not the wit to cull out and make useful what
we see before us, and judge of it lively enough to
draw it into example. For if we say that we want
authority to procure faith to our testimony, we speak
from the purpose, forasmuch as, in my opinion, of
the most ordinary, common, and known things,
could we but find out their light, the greatest mira-
cles of nature might be formed, and the most won-
derful examples, especially upon the subject of hu-
man actions. Now upon the subject I am speaking
of, setting aside the examples I have gathered from
books, and what Aristotle says of Andron, the Ar-
gian, that he travelled over the arid sands of Lybia
without drinking; a gentleman who has very well
behaved himself in several employments, said, in a
place where I was, that he had rode from Madrid to
Lisbon in the heat of summer, without any drink at
all; he is very healthful and vigorous for his age,
and hath nothing extraordinary in the usance of his
life, but this, to live sometimes two or three months,
nay, a whole year, without drinking. He is some-
times athirst; but he lets it pass over, and holds it is
an appetite which easily goes off of itself, and drinks
more out of humour than either for need or plea-
•
.382
OF EXPERIENCE,
sure.
Here is another example: it is not long ago
that I found one of the most learned men in France,
among those of the greatest fortunes, studying in a
corner of a hall that they had separated for him with
tapestry, and about him a rabble of his servants, that
you may be sure were rude and loud enough. He
told me, and Seneca says almost the same of himself,
he made an advantage of this noise; as if beaten
with this rattle, he so much the better recollected
and retired himself into himself for contemplation,
and that this tempest of voices repercussed his
thoughts within himself. Being at Padua, he had his
study so long situated in the rattle of coaches, and
the tumult of the public place, that he not only
formed himself to the contempt, but even to the use
of noise, for the service of his studies. Socrates
answered Alcibiades, who, being astonished at his
patience, asked him how he could endure the perpe-
tual scolding of his wife, " Why," said he," As
"those do who are accustomed to the ordinary
"noise of wheels to draw water." I am quite
otherwise; I have a tender head, a brain very vola-
tile; and when it is bent upon any one thing, the
least buzzing of a fly tears it into pieces. Seneca,*
in his youth, having, by the example of Sextius,
formed a positive resolution of eating nothing that
had life, passed over a whole year without it, as he
said, with pleasure, and only returned to animal
food, that he might not be suspected of taking up
this rule from some new religion by which it was
prescribed. But he took up, however, from the pre-
cepts of Attalus, a custom, not to lie any more upon
soft bedding, but even to his old age made use of
such as would not yield to any pressure. What the
custom of his time denominated roughness, ours
treats as effeminacy. Do but observe the difference
between the way of living of my labourers, and that
of mine; the Scythians and the Indians have nothing
* Senec. epist. 108.
9
OF EXPERIENCE.
383
more remote both from my force and method. I
know very well that I have picked up beggar-boys to
serve me, who soon after have quitted both my
kitchen and livery, only that they might return to
their former course of life: and I found one after-
wards gathering muscles out of the sink for his din-
ner, whom I could neither by entreaties nor threats,
reclaim from the sweetness and relish he found in
indigence. Beggars have their grandeur and de-
lights, as well as the rich; and it is said, their par-
ticular dignities and politics. These are the effects
of custom, which can mould us not only into what
form she pleases (and yet the sages say, we ought
to apply ourselves to the best, which she would soon
make easy to us), but also to change and variation,
which is the most noble and most useful of her do-
cuments. The best of my bodily perfections is, that
I am flexible and not very obstinate. I have some
inclinations more proper and ordinary, and more
agreeable than others; but I deviate from them with
very little trouble, and easily slip into a contrary
course. A young man ought to cross his own rules
to awake his vigour, and to keep it from growing
mouldy and rusty. There is no course of life so
weak and sottish, as that which is carried on by rule
and discipline:
Ad primum lapidem vectari cùm placet, hora
Sumitur ex libro; si prurit frictus ocelli
Angulus, inspectâ genesi collyria quærit.*
If but a mile he travel out of town
The planetary hour must first be known;
If he but rub the corner of his eye,
He chooses salve by his nativity.
He will often relapse into excesses, if he will take
my word for it; otherwise the least debauch ruins
him. He renders himself uneasy, and disagreeable
in conversation. The worst quality in a well-bred
man is delicacy, and being attached to a certain par-
* Juv. sat. vi. ver. 576.
384
OF EXPERIENCE.
The cus-
toms to
which
in his old
age.
ticular form; and it is particular, if not pliable and
supple. It is a kind of reproach, not to be able, or
not to dare to do what he sees others do. Let such
as those sit at home. It is in every man indecent,
but in a soldier vicious and intolerable; who, as
Philopomen said, ought to accustom himself to all
variety and inequality of life.
á
Though I have been brought up as much as was
possible to liberty and indifference, yet, so it is, that
Montaigne through this indifference, by growing old, and having
was a slave more settled upon certain forms (my age is now past
instruction, and I have henceforward nothing to do
but to take care of it as well as I can), custom has
already, ere I was aware, so imprinted its character
in me, in certain things, that I look upon it as a kind
of excess to depart from them. And, without a
force upon myself, I cannot sleep in the day-time,
or eat between meals, nor breakfast, nor go to bed,
without a great interval, as of three hours after sup-
per; nor get children till I have slept, and never
standing upon my feet, nor endure to put myself in a
sweat, nor quench my thirst either with pure water or
wine, nor keep my head long bare, nor have it shaved
after dinner; and I would be as uneasy without my
gloves, as without my shirt, or without washing when
I rise from table, or out of my bed; and could not
lie without a canopy and curtains, as necessary
things: I could dine without a table-cloth, but not
without a clean napkin, after the German fashion.
I foul them more than they, or the Italians do, and
make but little use either of spoon or fork. I am
sorry that the same is not in use amongst us, that I
see at the tables of kings; which is, to change our
napkins at every service, as they do our plates.
We are told of that laborious soldier Marius, that,
growing old, he became nice in his drinking, and
never drank but out of a peculiar cup of his own.
I, in like manner, fancy glasses of a certain form,
and do not willingly drink in a common glass with
others: all metal offends me compared with matter

OF EXPERIENCE.
€385
•
clear and transparent; let my eyes taste too, as far
as they can. owe several such delicacies to cus-
tom. Nature has also, on the other hand, helped me
to some of hers, as no longer to be able to endure
two full meals in one day, without overcharging my
stomach, nor a total abstinence from one of those
meals, without filling myself with wind, furring my
mouth, and blunting my appetite. I also dislike the
evening air. For of late years, in marches, which
often happen to be all night long, after five or six
hours, my stomach begins to be queasy, with a vio-
lent pain in my head, so that I always vomit before
day-break. When others go to breakfast I go to
sleep, and when I rise am as brisk as before. I had
had always been told, that the dews never fell but in
the beginning of the night; but for certain years
past, after long and familiar acquaintance with a
lord possessed with the opinion, that the air is more
sharp and dangerous about the declining of the sun,
an hour or two before it sets, which he carefully
avoids, and despises that of the night; he had
almost brought me into his opinion. What, shall the
very doubt and inquiry strike our imagination so far
as to alter us? Such as on a sudden give way to
their propensities, bring entire ruin upon themselves.
And I am sorry for several gentlemen, who, through
the folly of their physicians, have in their youth and
strength brought themselves into consumptions. It
were even yet better to endure a cough, than by
disuse for ever to lose the commerce of common life
in an action of so great utility. Ill-natured science,
to put us out of conceit with the most pleasant
hours of the day: let us keep possession of it to the
last. For the most part a man hardens himself by
being obstinate, and corrects his constitution; as
Cæsar did the falling sickness by dint of contempt.
A man should addict himself to the best rules, but
not enslave himself to them; yet there is one to
which a slavish attachment is useful.
Both kings and philosophers go to stool, and

VOL. III.
2 C
386
OF EXPERIENCE.
that Mon-
taigne took
The care ladies too; public lives are bound to ceremony;
mine, that is obscure and private, enjoys all natural
to keep his dispensation. Soldier and Gascon are also characters
body open. a little subject to indiscretion in this point; where-
fore I shall say of this action, that it is necessary to
refer it to certain prescribed and nocturnal hours,
and to force a man's self to it by custom, as I have
done; but not to subject himself, as I have done in
my declining years, to look out for a particular con-
venience of place and seat for that purpose, and
making it troublesome by long sitting: yet, in the
foulest offices, is it not in some measure excusable to
require more care and cleanliness? Natura homo
mundum, et elegans animal est:* "Man is by nature
a clean and elegant creature.”
Of all the ac-
tions of nature, I hate most the being interrupted in
that. I have seen many soldiers troubled with an
irregular call, whilst I and my belly never fail of our
punctual assignation, which is at leaping out of bed,
if some violent business, or sickness do not molest us.
I do not think therefore, as I said before, that
course to valetudinarians can be safer than by keeping
by valetu- close to that course of life to wherein they
dinarians. had been bred and trained up. Alteration, be it
The surest
be taken
66
what it will, proves hurtful. Can you believe that
chestnuts can hurt a Perigourdin, or one of Lucca ;
or milk and cheese the mountaineers? Men enjoin
them not only a new, but a contrary method of life,
a change which a man in health could not endure.
To prescribe water to a native of Bretagne of three-
score and ten, to shut a seaman up in a stove, and
to forbid a footman to walk, is to deprive them of
motion, and at last of air and light :
An vivere tanti est ?
Cogimur a suetis animum suspendere rebus,
Atque ut vivamus vivere desinimus.
Hoc superesse reor quibus et spirabilis aer
Et lux qua regimur, redditur ipsa gravis.t
* Seneca, epist. 92. † Gallus, eleg. i. ver. 55—255
OF EXPERIENCE.
387
1
To human life a gift of so much price
When our old habits we must sacrifice,
And live no longer,-to live otherwise?
I can't imagine that they longer live,
To whom nor light, nor air does comfort give.
If they do no other good, they do this at least, that
they prepare patients betimes for death, by little and
little undermining and curtailing the usage of life.
whether
Both well and sick, I have ever willingly gratified Montaigne
the appetites that pressed upon me. I give great well or
authority to my propensities and desires. I do not sick in-
love to cure one disease by another. I hate reme-natural ap-
dulged his
dies that are more troublesome than the disease. petites.
To be subject to the stone, and subject to abstain
from the pleasure of eating oysters, are two evils
instead of one. The disease torments us on the one
hand, and the proscription on the other. Since we
are ever in danger of mistaking, let us rather run a
hazard by the continuance of pleasure. The world
proceeds quite contrary, and thinks nothing profit-
able that is not painful; ease stands suspected by it.
My appetite is in several things of itself happily
enough accommodated to the health of my stomach.
Acrimony and quickness in sauces were pleasant to
me when young; but my stomach disliking them, my
taste for them soon went off. Wine is hurtful to sick
people; and it is the first thing that my mouth dis-
relishes when I am sick, and with an invincible dis-
gust. Whatever I take against my liking does me
harm; but nothing hurts me that I eat with appetite
and delight; I never received harm by any action
that was very pleasant to me; and accordingly have
made all medicinal conclusions give entire prece-
dency to my pleasure. And, when I was young,
Quem circumcursans hùc, atque hùc sæpe Cupido
Fulgebat crocinâ splendidus in tunica.*
Whilst Cupid round me fluttering did fly,
In his gay mantle of the Tyrian dye.
* Catullus, carm. 56, ver. 133.
2 C 2
388
OF EXPERIENCE.
I gave myself the reins as licentiously and rashly as
any body else to my then governing passion ;
Et militavi non sine gloria.
And in the service of beauty I gallantly fought.
yet more in continuance and holding out, than in a
sally:
Sex me vix memini sustinuisse vices.t
It is certainly a misfortune, and a miracle at once,
to confess at what a tender age I was first subjected
to love it was indeed by chance, for it was long
before the years of choice or discretion: I do not
remember myself so long ago. My fortune may
very well be compared to that of Quartilla, who
could not remember when she lost her virginity:
Inde tragus celeresque pili, mirandaque matri
Barba mea.§
Therefore my beard budded early to my mother's
admiration.
Physicians commonly submit their rules to the vio-
lent longings that happen to sick persons, with very
good success. This great desire, strange and vicious
as it is, it cannot be imagined but that nature must
have a hand in it. And then how easy a thing is it
to satisfy the fancy? In my opinion, this part
wholly carries it, at least, above all the rest. The
most grievous and common evils are those that fancy
loads us with. This Spanish saying pleases me in
several senses; Defienda me dios de my: "God de-
"fend me from myself." I am sorry when I am sick,
that I have not some longing that might give me the
* Hor. lib. iii. ode 26, ver. 2.
† Ovid. Amor. lib. iii. eleg. 7, ver. 26. Some very curious in-
quirers will blame me for not having explained this little verse; and
there are others whom I rather chose to keep fair with, would give
me a rap on the knuckles if I had. All I can do to oblige the first,
is to refer them to Fontaine's Tale de Berceau, ver. 246.
+ Petronius, p. 17, the Paris edit. an. 1587.
j Martial, lib. xi. ep. 23, ver. 7, and 8.
OP EXPERIENCE.
389
1
contentment of satisfying it; physic would hardly
be able to divert me from it. I do the same when
I am well. I can think of very little more than to
hope or wish. It is a pity a man should be so weak
and languishing, as to have nothing left him but
wishing.
physic
sanction to
The art of physic is not so solidly established as The uncer-
to leave us without authority for whatever we do; tainty of
according to Fernelius and Scala it changés accord-gives a
ing to the climates and moons. If your physician most of our
does not think it good for you to sleep, to drink longings.
wine, or to eat such and such meats, never trouble
yourself, I will find you another that shall not be of
his opinion; the diversity of physical arguments and
opinions includes all sorts of methods. I saw a mi-
serable sick person panting and burning with thirst,
in order that he might be cured; who was after-
wards laughed at by another physician, who con
demned that advice as hurtful to him: did he not
torment himself to good purpose? A man of that
profession is lately dead of the stone, who had made
trial of extreme abstinence to contend with his dis-
His fellow physicians said, that on the con-
trary, this abstinence had dried his body up, anď
baked the gravel in his kidneys.
ease.
hurtful fo
I have observed that, both in wounds and sick- Why talk-
nesses, speaking discomposes and hurts me as much ing was
as any irregularity I can commit. My voice spends Montaigne
and tires me, for it is loud and strained; so that in his sick-
when I have gone to whisper some great persons
about affairs of consequence, they have oft desired
me to moderate my voice.
ness.
the manner
This story justifies a digression here. A person A short di-
in a certain Greek school, speaking loud as I do,gression on
the master of the ceremonies sent to him to speak of regulat-
softly:
"Tell him then he must send me," replied voice in
the other, "the tone he would have me speak in." conversa-
* This was Carneades, the Academic philosopher, see Diog.
Laert. lib. iv. sect. 63.
9
ing the
tion.
399
OF EXPERIENCE.
periods,
To which the other replied, " That he should take
"the tone from the ear of him to whom he spake."
This was well said, if he meant, .
Speak according
"to the affair you are speaking about to your au-
"ditor;" for if it mean, "It is sufficient that he
"hears you; or govern yourself by him;" I do not
think it to be reason. The tone and motion of the
voice carries with it a great deal of the expression
and signification of my meaning, and it is I who am
to govern it, to make myself understood. There is
•
66
a voice to instruct, a voice to flatter, and a voice to
reprehend. I will not only that my voice reach him,
but perhaps that it strike and pierce him. When I
rattle my footman with a sharp and bitter tone, it
would be very pretty for him to say, Pray master,
"speak lower, I hear you very well." Est quædam
vox ad auditum accommodata, non magnitudine, sed
proprietate :* "There is a certain voice accommo-
"dated to the hearing, not by the loudness, but
66
propriety." Speech is half his that speaks, and
half his that hears; the last of which ought to pre-
pare himself to receive it, according to the bias it
takes. Like tennis players, he that receives the
ball, shifts and prepares, according as he sees him
move who strikes the ball, and according to the
stroke itself.
Distempers Experience has moreover taught me this, that we
have their ruin ourselves with impatience. Evils have their life
which we and limits, their diseases, and their recovery; the
must wait constitution of maladies is formed by the pattern
patience, of the constitution of animals; they have their for-
for with
tunes and days limited from their birth. Whoever
attempts imperiously to cut them short by force in
the middle of their course, does lengthen and mul-
tiply them, and incenses instead of appeasing them.
I am of Crantor's opinion, that we are neither ob-
stinately and wilfully to oppose evils, nor truckle
under them for want of courage, but that we are
* Quintilian. Institut. Orat. lib. xi. cap. 8.
OF EXPERIENCE,
391
naturally to give way to them, according to their
condition and our own: we ought to let diseases
take their course; and I find they stay less with me,
who let them alone. I have lost those which are
reputed the most tenacious and obstinate, without
any help or art, and contrary to the physician's
rules. Let us a little permit nature to operate;
she understands her own affairs better than we. But
such a one died, and so shall you, if not of that dis-
ease, of another. And how many have neverthe-
less died, who have had three physicians to attend
them? Example is a mirror, vague and universal,
and in all senses. If it be a pleasant medicine, take
it, it is always so much present good.. I will never
stick at the name nor the colour, if it be grateful to
the palate pleasure is one of the chief kinds of
profit. I have suffered rheums, gouty defluxions,
diarrheas, palpitations of the heart, megrims, and
other accidents, to grow old, and die away in me,
which I have been rid of when I was half fit to
nourish them. They are sooner wrought upon by
courtesy than bravado; we must patiently suffer the
laws of our condition; we are born to grow old, to
grow weak, and to be sick in despite of all medi-
cine. It is the first lesson the Mexicans teach their
children; so soon as ever they come out of their
mother's wombs, they thus salute them, " Thou art
come into the world, child, to endure; endure
therefore, suffer, and be silent." It is injustice
to lament that that is fallen out to any one, which
may befal every one. Indignare si quid in te inique,
propriè constitutum est:* Then be angry, when
"there is any thing unjustly decreed against thee
" alone."
કંદ
ง
See an old man who begs of God that he will What can-
maintain his health vigorous and entire, that is to not be
say, that he will restore him to youth:
* Senec. epist. 91.
avoided
$92
QF EXPERIENCE.
must be en-
dured with
patience.
:
Stubte, quid hæc frustra votis puerilibus optas?
In vain, thou fool, are all thy childish pray'rs.
Is it not folly? his condition is not capable of it. The
gout, the stone, and indigestion, are symptoms of
long years, as heat, rains, and winds are of long
voyages. Platot does not believe that Esculapius
troubled himself to provide by a regimen for pro-
longing life in a weak and wasted body, useless to
his country, and to his profession, and to beget
healthful and robust children; and he does not think
this solicitude suitable to the divine justice and pru-
dence, which is to direct all things to utility. My
good friend, your business is done, nobody can re-
store you, they can at the most but patch you up,
and prop you a little, and prolong your misery an
hour or two:
7
Non secus instantem cupiens fulcire ruinam,
Diversis contra nititur obicibus,
Donec certa dies, omni compage soluta,
Ipsum cum rebus subruat auxilium. Í
Like one who, willing to defer a while
A sudden ruin, props the tott'ring pile,
Till in short space the house, the props, and all
Together with a dreadful ruin fall.
We must learn to suffer what we cannot avoid. Our
life, like the harmony of the world, is composed of
contrary things, also of several notes, sweet and
harsh, sharp and flat, sprightly and solemn; and the
musician who would only affect one of these, what
would he be able to say? He must know how to
make use of them all, and to mix them; and we
likewise the goods and evils which are congenial with
our life: our being cannot subsist without this mix-
ture, and the one tribe is no less necessary to it
than the other. To attempt to kick against natural
* Ovid. Trist. lib. iii. eleg. 8, ver. 11.
+ De Republica, lib. iii. p. 623.
Gallus, eleg. 1, ver. 173, &c.
OF EXPERIENCE.
393
necessity, is to represent the folly of Ctesiphon, who
undertook to kick with his mule.
taigne
I consult little about the alterations I feel; for Why Mon-
those people take advantage when they have you at avoided to
consult
their mercy. They cudgel your ears with their physicians.
prognostics; and having formerly surprised me,
weakened with sicknesss, injuriously handled me
with their doctrines and magisterial taunts; one
while menacing me with great pains, and another
with approaching death; by which threats I was in-
deed moved and shaken, but not dejected, nor justled
from my place? and though my judgment was nei-
ther altered nor distracted, yet it was at least em-
barrassed by it. It is always agitation and struggle.
J
his imagi-
Now I use my imagination as gently as I can, He loved
and would discharge it of all trouble and contest, if to flatter
I could. A man must assist, flatter, and deceive it, nation in
if he can. My mind is fit for that office. It wants his illness.
no appearances throughout. And could it persuade,
as it preaches, it would successfully relieve me.
Will you have an example? It tells me that it is for
my good to have the stone: that structures of my
age are naturally to suffer some ruin: that it is
now time they should begin to disjoint, and to con-
fess a decay; it is a common necessity, and there
was no new miracle to be wrought for me: I thereby
pay what is due to old age, and I cannot expect a
better account of it: that society ought to comfort
me, being fallen into the most common infirmity of
men of my age.* I see every where men tormented The stone
with the same disease: and am honoured by their ordinary in
fellowship, as men of the best quality are most fre- especially
quently afflicted with it; it is a noble and dignified quality.
disease. That of such as are afflicted with it, few
have it to a less degree of pain, and yet they are
put to the trouble of a wretched regimen, and the
daily taking of nauseous drugs; whereas I owe my
better state purely to my good fortune. For some
* Dulce est miseris. socios habuisse doloris.
old men,
men of
394
OF EXPERIENCE.
ordinary broths of eringos, and burst-wort, that I
have twice or thrice taken to oblige the ladies, who,
with greater kindness than my pain, would needs
present me half of theirs, seemed to me equally easy
to take, and fruitless in operation. They have
a thousand vows to make to Esculapius, and as
many crowns to pay to their physician, for the void-
ing gravel easily and plentifully, which I often do
by the benefit of nature. Even the decency of my
countenance is not disturbed by it in company; and
I can hold my water ten hours, and as long as any
man that is in perfect health. The fear of this dis-
ease, says one, did formerly affright thee, when it
was unknown to thee; the crying and roaring of
those that make it worse by their impatience, begot
a horror in thee: it is an infirmity that punishes the
members by which thou hast most offended: thou
art a conscientious fellow:
Quæ venit indignè pœna, dolenda venit.*
To guiltless suff'rers our regret is due.
Consider this chastisement, it is very easy in com
parison of that of others, and inflicted with a pater
nal tenderness: do but observe how late it comes
it only seizes and incommodes that stage of thy life;
which is upon the matter steril, and lost; having, as it
were by composition, given way to the licentiousness
and pleasures of thy youth. The fear and the compas-
sion that people have of this disease, serves thee for
matter of pride. A quality whereof, if thou hast
thy judgment purified, and thy reason be right and
sound, thy friends will yet, notwithstanding, discover
some tincture in thy complexion. It is a pleasure to
hear it said of a man's self, "Here is great forti-
"tude, here is great patience!" Thou art seen to
sweat with the excessive pain, to look pale and red,
to tremble, to vomit blood, to suffer strange con-
tractions and convulsions, by starts to let tears drop
from thine eyes, to make thick, black, and dreadful
* Ovid. epist. 5, ver, 8.

OF EXPERIENCE.
395
urine, or have it suppressed by some sharp and jag-
ged stone, that cruelly pricks and tears the neck of
the bladder, whilst thou entertainest the company
with thy usual countenance, drolling by fits with thy
servants, making one in a continued discourse, now
and then excusing thy pain, and making thy suf
ferance less than it is. Does it put thee in mind
of the men of past times, who so greedily sought
diseases to keep their virtue in breath and exercise?
Put the case that nature inclines and forces thee to
that glorious school, into which thou wouldst never
have entered, of thy own free will. If thou tellest
me, that it is a dangerous and mortal disease; what
diseases are not? For it is a physical cheat to except
any, and to say, that they do not tend directly to
death what matter is it, if they steer that way by
accident, and if they slide and wheel gently into the
path that leads to it? But thou dost not die be-
cause thou art sick, thou diest because thou art liv-
ing. Death actually kills thee without the help of
of sickness and to some, sickness has deferred
death, who have lived the longer by reason that they
thought themselves always dying. To which may
be added, that, as of wounds so of diseases, some
are medicinal and wholesome. The colic is oft no
less long-lived than you. We know men with whom
it has continued from their infancy, even to extreme
old age, and if they had not parted company, it
would have attended them longer still; you oftner
kill it than it kills you: and though it present you
the image of approaching death, were it not a good
office to a man of such an age, to put him in mind
of his latter end? What is worse, thou hast no lon-
ger any thing that should make thee desire to be
cured. Common necessity will however presently
call thee away. Do but consider how artfully and
gently she puts thee out of conceit with life, and
weans thee from the world; not compelling thee
with a tyrannical subjection, as by many other in-
firmities which you see old men afflicted with, that
hold them in continual torment, and keep them
396
OF EXPERIENCE.
A
in perpetual and incessant pains and infirmities;
but by warnings and instructions at several in-
tervals, intermixing long pauses of repose, as it
were to give thee scope to meditate and ruminate
upon thy lesson at thy leisure; in order to enable
thee to judge aright, and to assume the resolution
of a man of courage, she presents to thee the entire
state of thy condition, both in good and evil, and
with a very cheerful, and an insupportable life, al-
ternately in one and the same day. If thou em-
bracest not death, at least thou shakest hands with it
once a month; by which thou hast more cause to
hope that it will one day surprise thee without warn-
ing; and that, being so oft conducted to the water-
side, and thinking thyself to be still upon the accus-
tomed terms, thou and thy confidence will at one
time or another be unexpectedly wafted over.*
man has no reason to complain of diseases that fairly
divide the time with health. I am obliged to for-
tune for having so often assaulted me with the same
sort of weapons; she forms and fashions me by usage,
and hardens and habituates me so to her attacks that
I can know within a little, for how much I shall be
quit. For want of natural memory, I make one of
paper and as any new symptom happens in my dis-
ease, I write it down; from whence it falls out,
that being now almost past through all sorts of ex-
amples, if any astonishment threaten me, tumbling
over these little loose notes, like the Sibyls' leaves, I
never fail of finding matter of consolation from some
favourable prognostic in my past experience. Cus-
tom also makes me hope better for the time to come.
For the conduct of this evacuation having so long
continued, it is to be believed that nature will not
alter her course, and that no other worse accident will
happen than what I already feel. Besides, the con-
* This seems to be an allusion to what was fabled by the ancient
Greeks and Romans, that the dead were transported over the river
Styx in Charon's ferry-boat; a fancy with which we still adorn our
poetry, and sometimes adopt in prose too in our familiar conver-
sation.
OF EXPERIENCE.
397
dition of this disease is not unsuitable to my forward
and hasty complexion. When it assaults me gently,
I am afraid, for it is then for a great while; but
it has naturally brisk and vigorous excesses. It
claws me to purpose for a day or two. My reins
held out an age without alteration, and I have al-
most now lived another since they changed their
state. Evils have their periods as well as benefit;
perhaps this infirmity draws towards an end. Age
weakens the heat of my stomach, the digestion of
which being less perfect, it sends this crude matter
to my reins; and why at a certain revolution may
not the heat of my reins be also abated, so that they
can no longer petrify my phlegm, and nature pave
the way for some other manner of purgation. Years
have evidently helped me to drain certain rheums;
and why not those excrements which furnish matter
for gravel? but is there any thing sweet in compari-
son of this sudden change, when from an excessive
pain, I come, by the voiding of a stone, to recover,
as from a flash of lightning, the beautiful light of
health, so free and full as it happens in our sudden
and sharpest fits of the colic: is there any thing Health
in the pain suffered, that can compare to the plea- more plea-
sure of so sudden an amendment? Oh! how much sickness.
more pleasant does health seem to me after sickness
so near and contiguous to each other, as that I can
distinguish them in the presence of one another in
their best state, when they vie with one another, as
it were, which shall have the mastery! What the
Stoics say, that vices are profitably introduced, to
give value and support to virtue; we can with better
reason, and less hazard of censure, say of nature,
that she has given us pain for the honour and ser-
vice of pleasure and indolence. When Socrates, af-
ter his fetters were knocked off, felt the pleasure of
that itching which the weight of them had caused in
his legs, he rejoiced to consider the strict alliance
between pain and pleasure, how they are linked to-
gether by a necessary connection, so that by turns
sant after
1
398
OF EXPERIENCE.
The advan-
tage of the
they follow and mutually beget one another; and
cried out to Æsop, that he ought from this consi-
deration, to have taken a subject proper for a fine
fable.
The worst that I see in other diseases is, that they
stone above are not so grievous in their operation, as they are in
all other their issue. A man is a whole year in recovering,
distempers. and all the while full of weaknes and fear. So dan-
gerous and gradual is the recovery of health, that
there is no end of it. Before you are allowed to
throw off a handkerchief, and then a cap, before
they allow you to take the air, to drink wine, lie
with your wife, and eat melons, it is odd if you re-
lapse not into some new distemper. The stone has
this privilege, that it carries itself clean off, whereas
others always leave behind them some impression
and alteration, which renders the body subject to
some new disease, and lend a hand to one another.
It produces. Those are excusable, that content themselves
some con- with possession of us, without extending it farther,
that are of and introducing their consequences: but courteous
sequences
.service.
*
and kind are such whose departure brings us any
profitable issue. Since I have been troubled with
the stone, I find myself freed from all other accidents,
much more methinks than I was before, and have
never had any fever since. I argue, that the ex-
treme and frequent vomitings that I am subject to,
purge me and on the other side, my loathings, and
the strange fasts I am forced to keep, digest my
present humours: and nature, in those stones, voids
whatever there is in me that is superfluous and hurt-
ful. Let it never be said that this is a medicine too
dear bought. For to what purpose are so many stink-
ing apozemes, caustics, incisions, sweats, setons,
diets, and so many other methods of cure, which oft,
by reason we are not able to undergo their violence
and importunity, bring us to our graves? So that
when I am seized with the stone, I look upon it
as physic; when freed from it, I think it an entire
deliverance.
OF EXPERIENCE.
398
There is likewise another particular benefit of my
disease; which is, that it most plays its game by it-
self, and lets me play mine, or else I only want cou-
rage to do it? for in its greatest fury, I have en-
dured it ten hours together on horseback; do but
have patience, you need no other regimen; play,
dine, run, do this and the other thing too if you
can; your debauch will do you more good than
harm. Say as much to one that has the pox, the
gout, or a rupture: the other diseases have more
universal obligations, rack our actions after another
manner, disturb our whole system, and to their con-
sideration engage the whole state of life. This
only pinches the skin, it leaves the understanding
and will wholly at your disposal, as also the tongue,
hands, and feet. It rather awakes than stupifies you.
The mind is struck with the burning heat of a fever,
overwhelmed with an epilepsy, distracted by a sharp
megrim, and finally astonished by all diseases that
hurt the whole mass, and the most noble parts: this
never attacks the soul. If any thing goes amiss
with her, it is her own fault, she betrays, dismounts,
and abandons herself. There are none but fools
who suffer themselves to be persuaded, that this hard
and massy body, which is baked in our kidneys, is
to be dissolved by draughts: wherefore, when it is
once stirred, there is nothing to be done but to give
it passage, and indeed it will force it of itself.
•
I likewise observe this particular convenience in
it, that it is a disease wherein we have little to guess
at. We are free from the trouble into which
other diseases throw us, by the uncertainty of their
causes, conditions, and progress. A trouble that is
infinitely painful. We have no need of consultation
and doctoral interpretations; the senses well enough
inform us what it is, and where it is. By such like
arguments, both weak and strong, as Cicero did the
disease of his old age, I try to lull, and amuse my
imagination, and to soothe its wounds. If I find
them worse to-morrow, I will provide new strata-
400
OF EXPERIENCE.
The guess-
gems. True it is, I am come to that pass of late,
that the least motion forces pure blood out of my
kidneys: and what of that? I stir nevertheless as
before, ride after my hounds with a juvenile ardour,
and find that I have very good satisfaction for an ac-
cident of that importance, when it costs me no more
but a stupor and alteration in that part. It is some
great stone that wastes and consumes the substance
of my kidneys, and of my life, which by little and
little evaporates, not without some natural pleasure,
as an excrement henceforward superfluous and trou-
blesome. Now, if I feel any thing to roll, do not
expect that I should trouble myself to consult my
pulse or my urine, thereby to put myself upon some
uneasy forethought; I shall soon enough feel the
pain, without making it longer by the disease of
fear. He who fears to suffer, already suffers what
he fears. To which may be added, that the doubts
and ignorance of those who take upon them to ex-
plain the springs of nature, with her internal pro-
gressions and the many false prognostics of their
art, ought to give us to understand, that her ways
are utterly unknown.
There is great uncertainty, variety, and obscurity,
ing at dis- in what she either promises or threatens; old age
urine very excepted, which is an undoubted sign of the ap-
uncertain. proach of death. In all other accidents I see few
eases by
signs of the futurity, whereon we may ground our
divination. I only judge myself by my real sensa-
tion, and not by discourse: to what end? since I
am resolved to bring nothing to it but expectation
and patience. Will you know how much I get by
this? Observe those that do otherwise, and who rely
upon so many different persuasions and counsels,
how oft, and how much they labour under imagina-
tion, exclusive of any bodily pain. I have many
times pleased myself, being well when I have been
safe, and delivered from these dangerous accidents,
to communicate them to the physicians, as if they
were then beginning to discover themselves in me;
OF EXPERIENCE.
401
where I underwent the terrible sentences of their
dreadful conclusions, being very well at ease; and I
was the more obliged to the favour of God, and bet-
ter satisfied of the vanity of this art.
sleeper.
There is nothing that ought so much to be re- Montaigne
commended to youth as activity and vigilance. Our a great
life is nothing but motion: I bestir myself with
great difficulty, and am slow in every thing, whether
in rising, going to bed, or eating. Seven of the
clock in the morning is early for me; and where I
govern, I never dine before eleven, nor sup till af-
ter six. I have formerly attributed the cause of the
fevers, and other diseases I have fallen into, to the
heaviness and dullness that long sleeping had brought
upon me, and have ever repented my sleeping again
in the morning. Plato is more angry at the excess
of sleeping than that of drinking: I love to lie hard,
and alone, even without my wife, as kings and
princes do, but pretty well covered with clothes.
They never warm my bed; but since my being
grown old, they give me for need warm ces to
lay to my feet and stomach. The recipio
was branded for a great sleeper; though, in my opi-
nion, for no other reason, but that men were dis-
pleased, that he was the only man in whom no other
fault was to be found. If I have any thing delicate
in my way of living, it is rather in my lying than any
thing else; but generally I give way, and accom-
modate myself as much as any to necessity. Sleep-
ing has taken up a great part of my life, and I yet
continue at the age I now am to sleep eight or nine
hours at a stretch.

habit in his
the benefit
I wean myself to my advantage from this propen- He cor-
sity to sloth, and am evidently better for so doing. rects that
I find the change a little hard indeed, but in three latter days,
days it is over, and see but few that live with less and finds
sleep, when need requires, and that more constantly of it.
exercise themselves, nor to whom journies are less
troublesome. My body is capable of long continued,
but not of a violent or sudden agitation. I avoid of
VOL. III.
2 D
4402
OF EXPERIENCE.
The mili-
tary pro-
fession
very plea
sant and
bonour.
able.
late all violent exercises, and such as incline me to
sweat, my limbs being weary before they are hot. I
-am used to be upon my legs a whole day together,
and am never weary of walking: but from my youth,
I never loved to ride upon pavement. On foot I go
up to the breech in dirt; and indeed little fellows
as I am, are subject in the streets to be elbowed
and justled, for want of presence and stature; and I
have ever loved to rest myself, whether sitting or
lying, with my heels as high, or higher than my
seat.
of th
and
There is no profession so pleasant as the military;
profession both noble in its execution (for valour
is the strongest, most superb, and most generous of
all virtues), and noble in its cause. There is no
utility either more extensive, or more just, than the
protection of the peace and grandeur of a man's
country. The company of so many noble, young,
and active men delights you; as does the ordinary
sight of so many tragic spectacles; and the freedom
conversation without art, with a masculine
eremonious way of living. The variety of a
thousand different actions; the encouraging har-
mony of martial music, that ravishes your ears and
warms your souls; the honour of this exercise; nay,
even its severity and hardships, which Plato so little
accounts, that in his Republic he makes women and
children share in them, are delightful to you. You put
yourselves voluntarily upon particular exploits and
hazards, according as you judge of their lustre and
importance, and see, when even life itself is therein
excusably employed:
Pulchrumque mori succurrit in armis.*
How beautiful it is to die in arms.
To fear the common dangers that concern so great
a multitude of men, not to dare to do what so many
sorts of souls, and a whole people dare to do, is

* Æneid. lib. ii. ver. 317.
OF EXPERIENCE.
403
for a heart that is effeminate, and mean beyond all
measure. Company encourages even children. If
others excel you in knowledge, in gracefulness, in
strength, or fortune, you have natural causes to
blame for that; but to give place to them in fortitude
of mind, you can blame none but yourself. Death is
more abject, more languishing, and painful in bed than
in battle; and fevers and catarrhs are as painful and
mortal as a musket shot: whoever is formed valiantly
to bear the accidents of common life, would need no
more courage to be a soldier. Vivere, mi Lucili,
militare est:* "Life, my Lucilius, is a warfare."
I do not remember that I ever had the itch; yet
scratching is one of nature's sweetest gratifications,
and nearest at hand, but the smart follows too close.
I use it most in my ears, which are often apt to itch.
hale consti
I came into the world with all my senses entire, Mon-
even to perfection. My stomach is pretty good, as taigne's
also is my head and my breath: and for the most part, tution.
they have continued themselves so in spite of my fe-
vers. I have past the age to which some nations,
not without reason, have prescribed so just a term
of life, that they would not suffer men to exceed it;
and yet I have some intervals, though short and in-
constant, so bright, as are little inferior to the health
and indolency of my youth: I do not mean vigour
and sprightliness, it being not reason that it should
follow me beyond its limits :
Non hoc amplius est liminis, aut aquæ
Caelestis patiens latus.†
In life I find it much too late
To stand all weathers at her gate.
Bot much
My face and eyes presently discover me. All my His mind
alterations begin there, and appear worse than they disturbed
really are. My friends oft pity me, before I feel the by the ail-
cause in myself; my looking-glass does not fright the body.
me, for even in my youth it has befallen me more
than once to change my countenance, to put on a
* Senec. ep. 96,
+ Hor. lib. iii. ode 10, ver. 19.
ments of
2 D 2
404
OF EXPERIENCE.
Nor disor-
troubled aspect boding no good, without any great
consequence; insomuch, that the physicians, not
finding any cause within answerable to that out-
ward alteration, attributed it to the mind, and some
secret passion that preyed upon my vitals; but they
were deceived. If my body governed itself as well
according to my wish, as my mind does, we should
move a little more at our ease. My mind was then
not only free from trouble, but moreover full of sa-
tisfaction and joy, as it commonly is, half by com-
plexion, and half by design:
Nec vitiant artus ægræ contagia mentis.*
I never yet could find,
That e'er my body suffer'd by my mind.†
I am of the opinion, that this temperature of my mind,
has oft raised my body from its lapses: the latter is
often oppressed; and if the former be not brisk and
gay, it is at least quiet and at rest. I had a quartan
ague four or five months, that made me look wretch-
edly, while my mind was always, if not calm, yet
pleasant; if the pain be without me, the weakness
and languor do not much deject me: I have known
several corporal faintings, that are shocking so much
as to name, which yet I would less fear than a thou-
sand passions and agitations of mind that I frequently
see. I resolve no more to run, it is enough that I
crawl along; nor do I complain of the natural decay
that I feel in myself,
Quis tumidum guttur miratur in Alpibus ? ‡
Who wonders to see a swell'd neck in the Alps?
nor regret that my duration shall not be as long and
entire as that of an oak.
I have no reason to complain of my imagination,
dered by for I have had few thoughts in my life which have
the impres
* Ovid. Trist. lib. iii. eleg. 8, ver. 24.
+Montaigne here interprets Ovid's words in a sense opposite to
what they carry in that poet; for what he plainly meant to say is,
that his mind was not a sufferer by any indisposition of the body.
‡ Juven. sat. 13, ver. 162.
OF EXPERIENCE.
405
imagina-
so much as broke my sleep, except those of desire, sions of the
which have awaked without afflicting me: I dream tion, his
but seldom, and then of chimeras and fantastical dreams be
things, commonly produced from pleasant thoughts, ridiculous
ing rather
rather ridiculous than sad; and believe it to be true, than sad.
that dreams are the true interpreters of our inclina-
tions; but there is art required to sort and under-
stand them:
Rex, quæ in vitâ usurpant homines, cogitant, curant, vident,*
quæque aiunt vigilantes, agitantque, ea si cui in somno accidunt,
minus murum est.†
"It is no wonder, O king, if what men are accustomed to
"think, care for, see, and say, when waking, should also run in
"their heads when they are asleep."
Atlantes
never
Plato moreover says, that it is the office of prudence
to draw instructions of divination of future things
from dreams. I see nothing in it, except the won-
derful experiments related of them by Socrates,
Xenophon, and Aristotle, all men of irreproachable
authority.‡ Historians say, that the people of
Atlantis never dream, and that they also never eat The
any thing that had life. I add, forasmuch as it is
perhaps the reason why they never dream; for dream.
Pythagoras ordered a certain preparation of diet, to
beget proper dreams: mine are very gentle, without
any agitation of body, or expression of voice. I
have seen several of my time wonderfully disturbed
by them; Theon, the philosopher, walked in his
sleep; as also did Pericles his servant, and that upon
the very tiles and tops of the house.§
* This is taken from a tragedy of Acclus, entitled Brutus, where
a soothsayer addresses Tarquin the superb, one of the chief drama-
tis personæ.
+ Cic. de Div. lib. i. cap. 22.
Herodotus, lib. iv. p. 322.
I knew a learned gentleman who affirmed, that the stories of
sleep-walkers were true. In Mr. Menage's notes upon this place
(in Diogenes Laertius, in the Life of Pyrrho, lib. ix. sect. 82), we
find a passage of Galen, where this learned physician tells us, that
having heard of persons walking in their sleep, he did not believe a
406
OF EXPERIENCE.
dainty in
his diet.
He was not I hardly ever choose my dish at table, but fall to
on the next at hand, and unwillingly change it for
another. The clutter of plates and services dis-
pleases me as much as any other whatever. I am
easily satisfied with little fare, and am an enemy to
the opinion of Favorinus, that in a feast you must
suffer the meat you like to be snatched, and another
plate of another sort to be set before you; and that
it is a pitiful supper, if you do not stuff
do not stuff your guests
with the rumps of various fowls; and that the bec
cafico* only deserves to be eaten entire. I usually
eat salt-meats, yet I choose bread that has no salt in
it; and my baker never sends up other to my table,
contrary to the custom of the country. In my in-
fancy, what they had most to correct in me, was
the refusal of things that children commonly best
love, as sugar, sweet-meats, and marchpanes. My
governor opposed this my aversion to dainty fare as
a kind of nicety, and indeed it is nothing else but a
difficulty of relishing any thing one tastes. Who-
ever cures a child of a particular aversion to brown
bread, bacon, or garlic, cures him of all kind of de-
licacy. There are some who pretend to work and
live hard, that wish for powdered beef and bacon
amongst partridge; they have a good time of it; it
is the delicacy of delicacies, it is the taste of an ef
feminate fortune, that disrelishes ordinary things,
Per quæ luxuria divitiarum tædio ludit.t. To cease
to make good cheer with what another does, and to
be curious in what a man eats, is the essence of this
vice:
word of it, till being obliged once to travel on foot all night long,
he was forced to believe it, by his own experience, &c. But ac-
cording to this principle Galen gives us authority for not believing
any thing at all of the matter, till we have experienced it as well as
he.
* A small bird, called a fig-pecker, because it feeds upon figs
when they are ripe, especially in Piedmont. It sings like a Night-
ingale, and lives nine or ten years.
+ Seneca, epist. 18.
r
1
C
OF EXPERIENCE.
Si modica cœnare times olus omne patellâ.*
If you scorn not a sallad in a mean dish.
There is indeed this difference, that it is better to
oblige a man's appetite in things that are most easy
to be had, but it is always vice to oblige a man's
self. I formerly said a kinsman of mine was nice,
who, by being in our gallies, had unlearned the use
of beds, and to put off his clothes.
407
cradle in
common
not to have
If I had any sons, I would wish them my fortune. Montaigne
The good father that God gave me (who has no-brought up
thing of me but the acknowledgment of his bounty, from his
though truly it is a very hearty one) sent me from the mean-
my cradle to be brought up in a poor village of his, est and most
and there continued me all the while I was at nurse, manner of
and longer, bringing me up to the meanest, and living.
most common way of living: Magna pars libertatis est
bene moratus venter:† "A well governed belly is a
"great part of liberty." Never take upon your- That mo-
selves, and much less give up to your wives, the thers ought
care of their nurture; leave the forming them to for- the educa-
tune, under popular and natural laws; leave it to tion of their
custom to train them up to frugality and hardships,
that they may rather descend from them, than as-
cend to them. This humour of my father's yet aim-
ed at another end, that is, to make me familiar with
those people, and with that rank of men who most
need our assistance; believing that I would be more
obliged rather to regard them who extended their
arms to me, than those who turned their backs upon
me. For this reason also it was, that he provided me
sureties at the font, of the meanest fortune, to
oblige and bind me to them.

children.
the advan-
Neither has his design succeeded altogether ill; What was
for, whether it be because there is more honour in tage of this
such a condescension, or out of natural compassion, education.
which has a very great power over me, I have a kind
inclination towards the meaner sort of people. The
Hor. lib. i. epist. 5, ver. 2.
† Seneca, epist. 123.
408
OF EXPERIENCE.
humour of
faction which I condemn in our civil wars, I shall
more sharply condemn when I see them flourish and
prosper. It will half reconcile me to them, when I
shall see them miserable, and suppressed. How much
The noble do I admire the generous humour of Chelonis,*
Chelonis. daughter and wife to the kings of Sparta! Whilst
her husband Cleombrotus, in the commotion of her
city, had the advantage over Leonidas, her father,
she, like a good daughter, stuck close to her father
in all his misery and exile in opposition to the con-
queror. But so soon as the chance of war turned,
she changed her will with the chance of fortune,
and bravely turned to her husband's side, whom she
accompanied wheresoever his ruin carried him: hav-
ing, as it appears, no other choice, than to cleave
to that side which stood most in need of her, and
where she best manifested her compassion. I am
naturally more apt to follow the example of Flami-
nius, who was ready to give his assistance to those
that had need of him, than to those who had power
to do him good; than the example of Pyrrhus, who
was of an humour to stoop to the great, and to do-
mineer over the meanest sort of people.
Montaigne Long sittings at table make me uneasy, and do
did not love
to sit long me harm; for whether it be for want of more conti-
at table. nency, having accustomed myself to it from a child,
I eat all the while I sit. Therefore, that at my own
house, though the meals there are of the shortest, I
choose to sit down a little while after the rest, as
Augustus used to do; but I do not imitate him in
rising also before the rest of the company: on the
contrary, I love to sit still a long time after, and to
hear the guests talk, provided I am none of the talk-
ers; for I tire and hurt myself with speaking upon a
full stomach, as much as I find it pleasant and very
wholesome to argue, and to strain my voice before
meals.

* The reader will be pleased to turn to what Plutarch relates of
this generous princess in the Life of Agis and Cleomenes, chap. 5.
OF EXPERIENCE.
409
+
of the an-
The ancient Greeks and Romans had more reason Long meals
than we, in setting apart for eating, which is a prin- cients.
cipal action in life (if not diverted by other extra-
ordinary business), many hours, and the greatest
part of the night, eating and drinking more delibe-
rately than we do, who perform all our actions in
post-haste; and in extending this natural pleasure
to more leisure and better use, intermixing with
their meals several pleasant and profitable offices of
conversation.
which Mon-
They, whose business it is to take care of me, may The absti
easily hinder me from eating any thing they think nence of
will do me harm; for in such things I never covet taigne was
nor miss any thing I do not see. But if it once capable.
comes in my sight, it is in vain to urge me to for
bear; so that when I design to fast, I must be part
ed from those that eat suppers, and must have only
so much given me, as is required for a regular colla
tion; for if I sit down to table, I forget my resolu-
tion. When I order my cook to alter the manner of
dressing any dish of meat, all my family know it
means, that my stomach is out of order, and that I
shall not touch it.
his taste,
revolu-
tions.
I love to have all meats that will endure it under- Account of
dressed, and love them kept till they have contract-t
ed a haut gout. Nothing but hardness generally of changes and
fends me (of any other quality I am as patient and in-
different as any man I have known); so that, contrary
to the common humour, even in fish, it often hap-
pens that I think them both too fresh and too firm
not for want of teeth, which I ever had good, even
to excellence, and that which age but now begins
to threaten. I have been used to rub them with a
napkin every morning, and before and after dinner.
God is favourable to those from whom he takes life
by degrees; it is the only benefit of old age; the
last death will be so much the less visible and pain-
ful; it will kill but a quarter of a man, or but half a
one at most. I have one tooth lately fallen out
without drawing, and without pain: it was the na-
1
1
1.'
410
OF EXPERIENCE.
tural term of its duration. Both that part of my be-
ing, and several others, are already dead, and others
half dead, of those that were most active and in
highest esteem during my vigorous years; so that I
melt and steal away from myself. What a folly
would it be in my understanding to apprehend the
height of this fall, already so much advanced, as if
it were from the utmost precipice? I hope I shall
not. Indeed I receive a principal consolation in the
thoughts of my death, that it will be just and na
tural, and that henceforward I cannot herein either
require or hope from destiny any favour that is not
lawful. Men make themselves believe that their an-
cestors were taller and had longer lives. But they
deceive themselves; and Solon, who was of those
old times, nevertheless limits the longest duration of
life to threescore and ten years. I, who have so
much and so universally adored the ἄρισον μέτρον
"The golden mean of the ancient times;" and who
have concluded the middle measure to be the most
perfect, shall I claim to live to an exceeding old age?
Whatever happens contrary to the course of nature,
may be troublesome; but what comes according to
her, must always be pleasant. Omnia, quæ secun-
dum naturam fiunt, sunt habenda in bonis:*
" All
હા . things that are done according to nature, are to
"be accounted good." And so Plato likewise says,
that the death which is occasioned by wounds and
diseases is violent; but that which old age leads us
to is of all others the most easy, and in some sort
delightful. Vitam adolescentibus vis aufert, senibus
maturitas: "Young men are taken away by force,
"old men by maturity." Death mixes and con-
founds itself throughout with life; decay anticipates
its hour, and even increases as we grow up. I have
pictures of myself taken at twenty-five, and thirty-
five years of age; I compare them with that lately
drawn; how often is it no more me, how much more
* Cic. de Senect. cap. 19.
† Ibid.
OF EXPERIENCE.
411
is my present image unlike the former, and how un-
like to that I shall go out of the world with? It is
too great an abuse of nature, to harrass her so that
she must be forced to leave us; and to abandon our
conduct, our eyes, teeth, legs, and all the rest,
to the mercy of a foreign and solicited assistance;
and to resign ourselves into the hands of art, when
she is weary of following us. I am not very fond
either of sallads, or fruits, except melons. My fa-
ther hated all sorts of sauces, and I love them all.
Eating too much is a clog to me; but for the quality
of what I eat, I do not yet certainly know that any
sort of meat hurts me; neither have I observed that
either full-moon or decrease, spring or autumn, alter
me. We have in us motions that are inconstant,
and for which we cannot account. For example, I
found radishes first agreeable, afterwards nauseous,
and now again grateful. In several other things
likewise I find my stomach and appetite vary after
the same manner. I have changed and changed
again from white-wine to claret, from claret to white-
wine.
fish, and
love to mix
I am a great lover of fish, and consequently make Montaigne
my fasts feasts, and my feasts fasts; and believe was fond of
what some people say, that it is more easy of diges did not
tion than flesh. As I make a conscience of eating it with
flesh upon fish days, so does my taste make a scru-flesh.
ple of mixing fish and flesh, the difference between
them seeming to me to be too great.
fasted.
From my youth I have used sometimes to slip my Why he
meals, either to sharpen my appetite against the sometimes
next day (for as Epicurus fasted and lived on
meagre food to accustom his pleasure to make shift
without abundance, I on the contrary do it to pre-
pare my pleasure to make better and more cheerful
use of abundance), or else I fasted to preserve my
gour for the service of some action of body or mind;
for both the one and the other are cruelly dulled in
me by repletion (and above all things, I hate that
foolish coupling of so healthful and sprightly a god.
vi-
412
OF EXPERIENCE.
Rules
:
which he
observed
with re-
clothing.
dess with that little undigested belching deity, all
over bloated by the fume of his liquor), or to cure
my sick stomach, and for want of fit company. For
I say, as the same Epicurus did, that a man is not so
much to regard what he eats, as with whom; and I
commend Chilo,* for not engaging himself to be
at Periander's feast, till he first was informed who
were to be the other guests. No dish is so accept-
able to me, nor no sauce so alluring, as that which is
extracted from society. I think it more wholesome
to eat less at a time, and often: but I desire to make
the most of appetite and hunger. I would take no
pleasure to be stinted in the physical way to three or
four pitiful meals a day.. Who will assure me, that
if I have a good appetite in the morning, I shall
have the same at supper? But especially, let us old
fellows take the first opportunity of eating, and
leave hopes and prognostics to the makers of alma-
nacks. The utmost fruit of my health is pleasure;
let us take hold of the first that offers. I avoid con-
stancy in these laws of fasting. Whoever desires
that one form shall serve him, let him avoid the con-
tinuing of it; we harden ourselves in it; our facul-
ties are laid asleep by it; six months after, you
shall find your stomach so used to it, that all your
gain will be the loss of your liberty of doing other-
wise, but to your prejudice.
I never keep my legs and thighs warmer in winter
than in summer; one single pair of silk stockings is
all: I have suffered myself to keep my head warmer
gard to his for the relief of my rheums, and my belly upon the
account of my colic: my diseases were in a few
days habituated to it, and disdained my ordinary
provisions. I rose from a single cap to a napkin, and
from a napkin cap to a quilted one. The waddings
of my doublet serve only for show; they signify no-
thing, if I do not add a hare's skin or that of a
vulture, and wear a cap under my hat. Follow this
* In Plutarch's Banquet of the Seven Wise Men.
9
OF EXPERIENCE.
413
gradation, and you will go a fine length. I am re-
solved to proceed no farther; and would leave off
those too, if I durst. If you fall into any new in-
convenience, all this is labour lost; you are accus-
tomed to it; seek out some other way: thus do
such ruin themselves, who submit to be fettered, and
superstitiously confined to rules. They are for add-
ing something more, and something more after
that, so that there is no end of it.
ence of din-
ners to sup-
the measure
quor.
As for our occupations and pleasures, it is much His prefer-
more commodious, as the ancients did, to lose àners
dinner, and defer making good cheer, till the hour pers; and
of retirement and repose, without breaking into the he observed
day; and so was I formerly used to do. For health, in his li
I since by experience find on the contrary, that it is
better to dine, and that the digestion is better per
formed waking. I am not very apt to be thirsty,
either well or sick, my mouth is indeed apt to be
dry, but without thirst; and commonly I never
drink but from a desire that is created by eating, and
when I have gone a good way in my meal. I drink
pretty well for a man of the common sort: in sum-
mer, and at a hungry meal, I not only exceed the
limits of Augustus, who drank just thrice and no
more; but not to offend Democrates's rule, who for-
bad that men should stop at four times, as an un-
lucky number, I proceed when need requires to the
fifth glass, in all about three half pints. For the lit-
tle glasses are my favourites; and I love to drink
them off at once, which other people avoid as inde
cent. I mix my wine most commonly with half,
sometimes one third part, water; and when I am at
home, by an ancient custom that my father's physi-
cian prescribed both to him, and to himself, they
mix that which is designed for me in the pantry two
or three hours before it is brought in. It is said,
that Cranaus, king of Athens, was the inventor of this
custom of dashing wine with water; whether profit-
able or no, I have heard disputed. I think it more
decent and wholesome for children to drink no wine
:
414
OF EXPERIENCE.
His notion
with re-
till after sixteen or eighteen years of age. The most
usual and common method of living is the most be-
coming: all particularity is in my opinion to be
avoided; and I would as much hate a German that
mixed water with his wine, as I would a Frenchman
who drank it pure. Common custom gives the law
in those things.
I fear a foggy air, and fly-from smoke, as from the
gard to air, plague (the first repairs I fell upon in my own house
were the chimnies and privies, a common and insup-
portable defect in all old buildings), and amongst the
hardships of war, reckon the choking dust, with
which we are smothered a whole day together. I
have a free and easy respiration, and my colds for
the most part go off without offence to the lungs,
and without a cough.
He could
cold wea-
The severe heat of summer is more an enemy to
bear very me than the cold of winter; for, besides the incon-
ther better venience of heat, not so remediable as cold, and be-
sides the force with which the sun-beams dart upon the
head, their glaring light offends my eyes, so that I
could not now sit at dinner over-against a great fire.
than hot.
He had a
sight, but
weakened
To dull the whiteness of paper, in those times
very long when I was more used to read, I laid a piece of glass
apt to be upon my book, and found my eyes much relieved by
by theexer-it. I am to this hour ignorant of the use of specta-
cise of it. cles, and can see as far as ever I did, or as any
other person. It is true, that in the evening I be
gin to find a little trouble and weakness in my sight,
if I read; an exercise that always strained my eyes,
especially by night. Here is one step backwards,
and a very sensible one: I shall fall back another,
from the second to the third, and so to the fourth,
so gently, that I shall be stark blind before I shall
be sensible of the age and decay of my sight: so ar-
tificially do the fatal sisters untwist the thread of
our lives. Yet I doubt that my hearing begins to
grow thick, and you will see I shall have half lost it,
when I shall lay the fault on the voices of those that
speak to me. The soul must be exceedingly intent
OF EXPERIENCE.
415
to be sensible how it ebbs away. My walking is
quick and firm, and I know not which of the two,
my mind, or my body, I have most to do to keep in
the same state. That preacher is very much my
friend, that can oblige my attention a whole sermon
through. In places of ceremony, where every one's
countenance is so starched, where I have seen the
ladies keep even their eyes so fixed, I could never or-
der it so, that some part or other of me did not lash
out; so that though I was set, I was never settled;
as the philosopher Chrysippus's chamber-maid said
of her master, that he was only drunk in his legs; Chrysippus
for it was his custom to be always kicking themes.
about in what place soever he sat, and she said it at
a time when, though the wine made all his compa-
nions drunk, he found no alteration in himself at all;
the same may also be said of me from my infancy,
that I have either folly or quicksilver in my feet, so
much restlessness and unsettledness there is in them
wherever they are placed.
drunk in his
greedy in
It is indecent, besides the hurt it doth to one's He was too
health, and even to the pleasure of eating, to eat so his eating.
greedily as I do: I oft bite my tongue, and some-
times my fingers for haste. Diogenes, meeting a boy
eating after that manner, gave his tutor a box on the
There were men at Rome that taught people
to chew, as well as to walk, with a good grace. I
thereby lose the opportunity of speaking, which
gives so sweet a relish to meals, provided the table-
talk be pleasant and short,
ear.
ment cou-
of the ta-
There is jealousy and envy amongst our pleasures; His judg-
they cross and hinder one another. Alcibiades, a cerning the
man well versed in making good cheer, banished pleasures
even music from tables, that it might not disturb the ble
pleasure of discourse, for a reason he had from
Plato, viz. that it is the custom of vulgar men to call
fiddlers and singing-men to feasts, for want of good
discourse and pleasant talk, with which men of
* Diog. Laert. in the Life of Chrysippus, lib. vii.
416
OF EXPERIENCE.
1
1
-
understanding know how to regale one another.
Varro requires this in great entertainments; persons
of graceful presence, and agreeable conversation,
that are neither mute nor rattles; neatness and deli-
cacy both of place and provisions, and fair wea
ther. A good treat is neither slightly artificial, nor
a little voluptuous; neither the greatest captains,
nor the greatest philosophers, have disdained the
use and science of eating well. My imagination
has delivered three to my memory, which fortune
rendered sovereignly sweet to me upon divers
occasions, in my most flourishing age. My present
state excludes me from more. For every one, ac-
cording to the good temper of body and mind
wherein he then finds himself, furnishes to his own
use a particular grace and liking; I, who but just
crawl upon the earth, hate this inhuman wisdom, that
will have us despise and hate all the culture of body.
I look upon it to be as unjust to hate natural plea-
sures, as to be too fond of them. Xerxes was such
a fool that when environed with all human pleasures,
he proposed a reward to him that could find him out
a new one; and he is not less so, who denies him-
self any of those pleasures that nature has provided
for him. A man should neither pursue nor fly, but
receive them. I receive them I confess a little too
affectionately and kindly, and easily suffer myself to
follow my natural inclination. We need not exag-
gerate their vanity; they themselves show it, and
make us sufficiently sensible of it. Thanks be to
our sickly minds that pall our joys, and put us out
of taste with them, as with themselves, they enter-
tain both themselves and all they receive, one while
better, and another while worse, according to their
insatiable, vagabond, and variable essence.
1
Sincerum est nisi vas, quodcumque infundis, acescit.*
All pleasures shun with sorrow in their train,
For tainted vessels sour what they contain.
* Hor. lib. i. ep. 2, ver. 34.
OF EXPERIENCE.
417
.
I, who boast that I so curiously and particularly em-
brace the conveniences of life, find, when I nicely
consider them, but very little in them more than
wind. But what? We are all wind throughout;
and, moreover, the wind itself loves to bluster and
shift from corner to corner more discreetly than we,
and contents itself with its proper offices, without
desiring stability and solidity, qualities that do not
belong to it.
rank he
placed the
of the
gination
of the
The pure pleasures, as well as the pure displeasures, In what
of the imagination, say some, are the greatest; as
was expressed by the balance of Critolaus.* It is pleasures
no wonder; it makes them to its own liking, and fatima-
cuts what it pleases out of the whole cloth; of which and those
I every day see notable examples, and perhaps to be body.
desired. But I, who am of a mixed and heavy con-
stitution, cannot snap so soon at this one simple ob-
ject, but I negligently suffer myself to be blindly
carried away with the present pleasures of the gene-
ral human law. Intellectually sensible, and sensibly
intellectual. The Cyrenaic philosophers will have
it, that as corporeal pains, so corporeal pleasures are
more powerful, both as double, and more just.
There are some, as Aristotle says, who out of a
savage kind of stupidity pretend to disgust them :
and I know others, who out of ambition do the
same. Why do they not likewise foreswear breath-
ing? Why do they not live of their own, and refuse
light because it shines gratis, and costs them neither
pains nor invention? Let Mars, Pallas, or Mercury,
afford them their light by which to see, instead of
Venus, Ceres, and Bacchus. Will they not seek the
quadrature of the circle, even in their conjugal em-
braces? I hate that we should be enjoined to have
:
3
* In my opinion Montaigne here applies this balance to a pur-
pose very different from that which Critolaus applied it to, if we
may judge of this balance by what Cicero says of it. Tusc.
Quæst. lib. v. cap. 27.
VOL. III.
2 E
:
418
OF EXPERIENCE.
Nature has
those ac-
able which
cessity of
perform-
ing.
our minds in the clouds when our bodies are at table;
I would not have the mind rivetted there, nor that it
should be roving; but I am willing it should apply
itself to that place, that it should sit, but not lie
down there. Aristippus pleaded only for the body,
as if we had no soul; Zeno stickled only for the soul,
as if we had no body. Both of them were in the
wrong. Pythagoras, say they, adhered to a philoso-
phy that was all contemplation; Socrates to one
that was all manners and action. Plato found out a
medium between both; but they only say so for talk
sake; for the true mean is found in Socrates; and
Plato is more Socratic than Pythagorean, and it
becomes him better. When I dance, I dance; when
I sleep, I sleep. Nay, when I walk alone in a beau-
tiful orchard, "if my thoughts are some part of the
time taken up with foreign occurrences, I call them
back again to my walk, or to the orchard, to the
sweetness of the solitude, and to myself.
4
Nature has with a motherly tenderness observed
rendered this, that the actions she has enjoined us for our
tions agree- necessity should be also pleasant to us, and invites
man is un- us to them, not only by reason, but also by appe-
der a ne- tite and it is injustice to pervert her laws. When
I see both Cæsar and Alexander, in the most weighty
concerns of their great business, so fully enjoy human
and corporeal pleasures, I do not say that they un-
bent their minds, but strained them higher; sub-
jecting those violent employments and laborious
thoughts by the strength of courage, to the custom
of common life. Wise, had they believed that the
former was their ordinary, the latter their extraor-
dinary, vocation. We are great fools. He has
passed over his life in indolence, say we: I have
done nothing to-day. What! have you not lived?
It is not only the fundamental, but the most illus-
trious of your occupations. Had I been put to the
management of great affairs, I would have made it
seen what I could do, Have you known how to
OF EXPERIENCE.
419
meditate, and manage your life? You have perform-
ed the greatest work of all. For a man to show,
and set himself off, nature has no need of fortune;
she equally shows herself in all degrees, and behind
a curtain, as well as without one. Have you known
how to compose your manners? You have done a
great deal more than he who has composed books.
Have you known how to take repose? You have
done more than he who has taken cities and
empires.
;4
master-
The glorious master-piece of man is to know how What is
to live to purpose: all other things, viz. to reign, to man's true
lay up treasure, and to build, are at the most but little piece.
appendices, and small props. I take a delight to see a
general of an army at the foot of a breach he in-
tends presently to assault, give himself up entire and
free at dinner, to talk and be merry with his friends;
and to see Brutus, when heaven and earth conspired
against him and the Roman liberty, stealing some
hour of the night from his rounds to read and
abridge Polybius, void of all fear. It is for little
souls, that are crushed under the weight of affairs,
not to know how cleverly to disengage themselves,
and not to know how to lay them aside, and take
them up again:
O fortes, pejoraque passi,
Mecum sæpe viri, nunc vino pellite curas.
Cras ingens iterabimus æquor.*
*
Brave spirits, who with me have felt worse sorrow,
Drink cares away, we'll sail again to-morrow.
Whether it be in jest or earnest, that the theological
and Sorbonnical wine, and their feasts, are turned
into a proverb, I think it but reason, they should
dine so much more commodiously and pleasantly as
they have profitably and seriously employed the
morning in the exercise of their schools. The con-
* Hor. lib. i. ode 7, ver. 30.
1
2E 2
420
OF EXPERIENCE.
Relaxation
lity speci-
:
science of having well spent the other hours is the
just and savoury sauce of tables. The sages lived so;
and that inimitable emulation for virtue, which
astonishes us both in the one and the other Cato,
that humour of theirs, severe even to importunity, is
thus gently submitted, and made pliant to the laws
of the human condition, both of Venus and Bac-
chus; and, according to the precepts of their sect,
that require the perfect wise man should be as expert
and intelligent in the use of pleasures, as in all other
duties of life. Cui cor sapiat, ei et sapiat palatus.*
Relaxation and affability, methinks, wonderfully
and affabi- honour, and best become, a great and generous soul.
ally becom- Epaminondas did not think, that to dance, sing,
ing great and be intent upon play with the boys of his city,
rous souls. derogated from the honour of his glorious victories,
and gene-
and the perfect reformation of manners that was in
him. And amongst so many admirable actions of
Scipio, the grandfather, a person worthy the opi-
nion of a heavenly extraction, there is nothing that
gives him a greater grace than to see him indolently
and childishly trifling, in gathering and choosing
shells, and playing at quoits upon the sea-shore with
Lælius: and, if it was foul weather, amusing and
pleasing himself in writing comedies, representing
the meanest and most popular actions of mankind:
and while his head was full of that wonderful enter-
prise of Hannibal and Africa, visiting the schools in
Sicily, and being present at the philosophical lec-
tures, even so as to attract the blind envy of his ene-
mies at Rome. Nor is there any thing more re-
markable in Socrates, than that, old as he was, he
found time to learn dancing, and playing upon in-
struments, and thought it well spent ; nevertheless,
this very man was seen in extasy standing upon his
feet a whole day and a night together in the pre-
sence of all the Grecian army, surprised and trans-
* Cicero de Finibus, Bon. et Mal. lib. ii. cap. 9.
OF EXPERIENCE.
421
ported with some profound thought. He was the
first who, among so many valiant men of the army,
ran to the relief of Alcibiades, overpowered by the
enemy, screened him with his own body, and disen-
gaged him from the crowd by absolute force of arms.
It was he who, in the Delian battle, relieved and
saved Xenophon, when dismounted from his horse;
and who, amongst all the people of Athens, enraged
as he was at so unworthy a spectacle, first presented
himself to rescue Theramenes, whom the thirty ty
rants were dragging to execution by their guards;
and desisted not from his bold enterprise, but at the
remonstrance of Theramenes himself, though he was
only followed by two more in all. He has been seen,
when courted by a beauty, with whom he was deeply
in love, yet maintain a severe abstinence in time of
need. He has been seen continually to go to the
war, and with his bare feet to travel upon the ice;
to wear the same garb winter and summer; to sur-
pass all his companions in bearing hardships, and to
eat no more at a feast than at his own private din-
ner. He was known twenty-seven years together to
endure hunger, poverty, the untractableness of his
children, and the scratches of his wife, with the
same countenance; and in the end, calumny, ty-
ranny, imprisonment, fetters, and poison. But was
that man invited to drink bumpers by any rule of
civility? He was also the man of the army to whom
the advantage of it remained. And he never re-
fused to play at cobnut, nor to ride the hobby-horse
with the boys, and it became him well; for all ac-
tions, says philosophy, equally become, and equally
honour, a wise man. We have enough wherewith to
do it, and we ought never to be weary of represent-
ing the image of this great man in all the patterns
and forms of perfection. There are very few
examples of life full and pure, and we wrong
our instruction to propose to ourselves every day,
such as are weak and imperfect, scarce good
422-
OF EXPERIENCE.
What dis-
covers the
greatness
•
for any one service, and such as draw us rather
back, and that are rather corrupters than correctors
of manners. The people deceive themselves; a
man goes much more easily indeed by the ends,
where the extremity serves for a bound, a stop, and
a guide, than by the middle way, which is large and
open, and more according to art than nature; but
much less nobly and commendably.
;
Magnanimity consists not so much in mounting
and in proceeding forward, as in knowing how to
of a soul. govern and circumscribe itself. It takes every thing
for great, that is enough; and demonstrates itself
better in moderate than eminent things. There is
nothing so handsome and lawful, as well and duly to
act the part of the man; nor any science so difficult,
as to know how to live; and of all our infirmities, it
is the most savage to despise our being.
It ought
not to shun
but to taste
modera-
tion.
Whoever has a mind to send his soul abroad, when
natural the body is ill at ease, to preserve it from the con-
pleasures, tagion, let him do it if he can: but otherwise, on the
them with contrary, let the souls favour and assist the body,
and not refuse to participate of its natural pleasures,
and with a conjugal complacency; using however,
if it be a wise soul, moderation, lest by indiscretion
they should be confounded with vexation. Intem-
perance is the best of pleasure, and temperance is
not its scourge, but rather its seasoning. Eudoxus,*
who therein established the sovereign good, and his
companions, who set so high a value upon it, tasted
it in its most charming sweetness by the means of
temperance, which in them was singular and ex-
emplary.t
How we
ought to
I enjoin my soul to look upon pain and pleasure
behave with an eye equally regulated and stedfast; Eodem
enim vitio est effusio animi in lætitia, quo in dolore
with re-
* As Diog. Laert. affirms in the Life of Eudoxus (lib. viii. sect
88) on the report of Nicomachus, the son of Aristotle.
† Aristotle positively says that Eudoxus was distinguished by his
extraordinary temperance. Moral. ad Nicomachum, lib. x. cap. 2.
OF EXPERIENCE.
423
pleasure.
contractio :* "The overflowing of the heart in gard both
"mirth, is as bad as the contracting of it in sorrow;" to pain and
but on the one gaily, and on the other gravely, and
as far as it is able, to be as careful to extinguish the
one, as to extend the other. The judging rightly of
good, brings along with it the judging soundly of
evil. Pain has something not to be avoided in its
tender beginning, and pleasure has something that
may be avoided in its excessive end.
Plato couples
them together,† and will have it that it should be
equally the office of fortitude to fight against pain,
and against the immoderate and charming blandish-
ments of pleasure. They are two fountains, from
which whoever draws, when and as much as he
needs, whether city, man, or beast, is very happy.
The first is to be taken physically, and upon neces-
sity more sparingly; the other for thirst, but not to
drunkenness. Pain, pleasure, love, and hatred, are
the first things that a child is sensible of; if when his
reason comes they are applied to it, that is virtue.
made of
I have a dictionary to myself: I squander away my The use
time when it is ill and uneasy; but when it is good, Montaigne
I will not squander it away. I run it over again, and life.
stick to it; a man must run over the ill, and settle
upon the good. This ordinary phrase of pastime,
and passing away the time, represents the custom of
those wise people, who think they cannot fare better
than to let life run on and slide away, to pass it over,
to kill it, and, as much as they can, to take no notice
of it, and to steal from it, as a thing of a trouble-
some and contemptible quality. But I know it to be
another kind of thing, and find it both valuable and
commodious, even in its latest decay, wherein I now
enjoy it and nature has delivered it into our hands,
in such and so favourable circumstances, that we need
only thank ourselves if it be troublesome to us, or
* Cic. Tusc. lib. iv. cap. 31.
In his Dialogue of the Laws, lib. i. p. 636.
424
OF EXPERIENCE.

"
<<
slide unprofitable away. Stulti vita ingrata est, tre-
pida est, tota in futurum fertur:* "The life of a
fool is uneasy, timorous, and wholly bent upon
futurity." Nevertheless, I compose. myself to
lose mine without regret, but yet as a thing that
is perishable by its condition, not that it is trou
blesome or uneasy to me. Neither does it properly
well become any to welcome death, excepting such
as are fond of life. There is good husbandry in
enjoying it. I enjoy it double to what others do;
for the measure of the fruition depends more or less
upon our application of it. Now, especially, that I
perceive mine to be so short in time, I am inclined to
extend it in weight: I will stop the quickness of its
flight, t by the suddenness of my grasping it: and by
the vigour of using it, make myself amends for the
haste in which it runs away. By how much the pos-
session of life is more short, I must take the deeper
and the fuller hold of it. Others are sensible of the
sweetness of contentment, and of prosperity; I feel
it too, as well as they, but not as it slides and passes
by; for a man ought to study, taste, and ruminate
upon it, to render due thanks for it to him that grants
it to us. They enjoy the other pleasures as they do
that of sleep, without knowing them; and to the
end, that even sleep itself should not so stupidly pass
me unnoticed, I have formerly caused myself to be
disturbed in it, to the end that I might take a view
of it. I ponder with myself upon contentment; I
* Seneca, epist. 15.
+ This perhaps furnished the hint for the following merry French
catch, viz.
Plus inconstant que L'Onde et la Nuage,
Le Temps s'enfuit: pourquoi le regretter?
Malgré la pente velage
Que l'oblige à nous quitter,
En faire l'usage c'est l'arrêter;
Goutons mille douceurs:
Et si la vie est un passage,
Sur ce passage au moins semons des fleurs.
OF EXPERIENCE.
425
#
do not skim over it, but sound it, and bend my rea-
son, now grown perverse and disgusted, to recover
it. Do I find myself in any calm situation? Is
there any pleasure that tickles me? I do not suffer
it to cheat my senses. I associate my soul to it, not
to be absorbed in it, but to take delight in it; not to
lose itself, but to find itself in it; and I employ it on
its part to view itself in this prosperous estate, to
weigh, esteem, and amplify its happiness. It com-
putes how much it stands indebted to Almighty
God, that its conscience and other intestine passions
are at rest, that the body is in its natural disposition,
orderly and competently enjoying the delicate and
flattering functions, by which he is graciously pleased
to recompense the sufferings wherewith his justice in
its turn scourges us. How great a benefit is it to
man to have his soul so seated, that which way so-
ever she turns her eye, the heaven is calm about her?
No desire, no fear or doubt, that troubles its aspect,
nor any difficulty past, present, or to come, which
his imagination may not pass over, without offence.
This consideration derives great lustre from the
comparison of different conditions; and therefore it
is, that I propose to myself in a thousand faces,
those whom fortune, or their own error, torments
and carries away; and moreover those who, more
like to me, so negligently and carelessly receive their
good fortune. They are men who pass away their
time indeed, they run over the present, and that
which they possess, to give themselves up to hope,
and to the shadows and vain images which fancy
places before them,

{
Morte obitâ quales fama est volitare figuras,
Aut quæ sopitos deludunt somnia sensus.
Such forms they say as dead men's spirits have,
Or which in dreams our drowsy sense deceive.
* Æneid. lib. x. ver. 641.
426
OF EXPERIENCE.
His dis-
and which hasten and prolong their flight, according
as they are pursued. The fruit and aim of their
pursuit is to pursue; as Alexander said, that the end
of his labour was to labour:
Nil actum credens cum quid superesset agendum.
Thinking nought done, if ought was left to do.
*
For my part therefore I love life, and cultivate it,
such as it has pleased God to bestow upon us; I do
not offer to wish it had no necessity of eating and
drinking; and I would think my offence as inex-
cusable, to wish it had been double to what it is.
Sapiens divitiarum naturalium quæsitor acerrimus : †
"A wise man hunts sharply after natural riches."
Nor that we should support ourselves by putting
only a little of that drug into our mouths by which
Epimenides took away his appetite, and kept himself
alive; nor that a man should stupidly produce
children with his fingers or heels, but rather, with
reverence I speak it, that he might voluptuously
produce them with his fingers and heels; nor that
the body should be without desire, and void of
delight. These are ungrateful and wicked com-
plaints. I accept kindly and gratefully what nature
has done for me, am well pleased with it, and proud
of it. A man does wrong to the great and Al-
mighty Giver of all things, to refuse, disannul, or
disfigure his gift; he has made every thing well.
Omnia quæ secundum naturam sunt estimatione digna
sunt: All things that are according to nature are
"worthy of esteem."
Of philosophical opinions, I more willingly em-
like his de- brace those that are most solid, that is to say, the
portment. most humane, and most our own: my discourses
* Lucan. lib. ii. ver. 657. The poet speaks here of Cæsar, who
was altogether as active and indefatigable as Alexander.
+ Seneca, epist. 119.
Cicero de Finib. lib. iii. c. 6. We find the sense here to be the
same, though not the very words as quoted by Montaigne.
OF EXPERIENCE.
427. --
are suitable to my manners, low and humble; philo-
sophy brings forth a child to my liking, when it puts
itself upon its ergo's, to prove that it is a savage al-
liance to match divine with earthly, rational with irra-
tional, severe with indulgent, and the honest with dis-
honest; that pleasure is a brutish quality, unworthy to
be tasted by a wise man ; that the sole pleasure which
he extracts from the enjoyment of a fair young wife,
is the pleasure of his conscience to perform an
action according to order: as to put on his boots
for a prófitable journey. Oh, that his followers
had no more right, nor nerves, nor juice, in get-
ting their wives' maidenheads, than there is in his
lectures..
J
·
pleasure
it is in-
mind.
This is not what Socrates says, who is both his Corporeal
master and ours. He values, as he ought, bodily has its va-
pleasure; but he prefers that of the mind, as having lue, though
more force, constancy, facility, variety, and dignity. ferior to
This according to him goes by no means alone, he is that of the
not so fantastic, but only it goes first. Temperance
in him is the moderatrix, not the adversary, of
pleasures. Nature is a gentle guide, but not more
gentle, than prudent and just. Intrandum est in
rerum naturam, et penitùs quid ea postulet, perviden-
dum :* "A man must search into the nature of
"things, and examine thoroughly what she re-
૮૯
quires." I every where search for the print of
her foot, but we have confounded it with artificial
traces. That sovereign Academic and Peripatetic
good, which is to live according to nature, becomes
by this means hard to limit and explain; and that of
the Stoics, bordering upon it, which is to consent to
nature. Is it not an error to esteem any action less
worthy, because they are necessary? Yet they shall
not beat it out of my head, that it is not a suitable
marriage of pleasure with necessity, to which, says
an ancient, the gods always consent. To what end
* Cic. de Fin. lib. v. cap. 16.
1
428
OF EXPERIENCE.
66
do we dismember by divorce, a fabric connected by
so mutual and fraternal a correspondence: let us, on
the contrary, renew it by mutual offices, let the mind
rouse and quicken the dulness of the body, and the
body stop and fix the levity of the soul. Qui velût
summum bonum, laudat animæ naturam, et tanquam
malum, naturam carnis accusat, profecto et animam
carnaliter appetit, et carnem carnaliter fugit, quo-
niam id vanitate sentit humanâ, non veritate divinâ :*
"He who commends the nature of the soul as the
supreme good, and accuses the nature of the flesh
"as evil, does certainly both carnally affect the soul,
"and carnally flies the flesh, because he is possessed
"by such belief through human vanity, and not by
"divine truth.” In this present that God has
made us, there is nothing unworthy our care; we
are strictly accountable for it. And it is no slight
commission to man, to conduct man according to his
condition. It is express, simple, and the principal
of all; and the Creator has seriously and severely
enjoined it. Authority has alone the power to work
upon common understandings, and is of more weight
in a foreign language, and therefore let us again
charge with it in this place. Stultitiæ proprium
quis non dixerit, ignavè, et contumaciter facere quæ
facienda sunt; et aliò corpus impellere, aliò animum,
distrahique inter diversissimos motus?" Who will
"not say, that it is the property of folly, slothfully
"and contumaciously to perform what is to be
"done, and to bend the body one way, and the
"mind another, so as to be distracted between the
"most different motions?" Which to make ap-
parent, let any one some day tell you what whimsies
and imaginations he puts into his own pate, and
upon the account of which he diverted his thoughts
Aug. de Civitate Dei, lib, xiv. cap. 5, where he has a view
properly to the Manichees, who held the flesh and the body to be
the production of the evil principle.
+ Seneca, epist. 74.
9
OF EXPERIENCE.
429
from a good meal, and complained of the time he
spends in eating: you will find there is nothing so
insipid in all the dishes at your table, as this fine
talk of his (for generally we had better sleep than
wake to the purpose we do): and that his discourses
and notions are not so good as your fricassee.
Though they were the raptures of Archimedes him-
self, what were they worth? I do not here speak of,
nor mix with the rabble of us ordinary men, and the
vanity of the thoughts and desires that divert us,
those venerable souls, elevated by the ardour of de-
votion and religion, to a constant, and conscientious
meditation of divine things, who, by a lively endea-
vour, and vehement hope, having a foretaste of the
eternal nourishment, the final aim, and the last stop
of Christian desires, the sole, constant, and incor-
ruptible pleasure, disdain all regard to our beggarly,
frothy, and ambiguous conveniences, and easily re-
sign to the body the care and use of sensual and
temporal food. It is a
It is a privileged study. I have
ever amongst us observed supercelestial opinions,
and subterranean manners to be of singular ac-
cord.

of that
be above
Æsop, that great man, saw his master piss as he The folly
walked: "What," said he, " must we dung too as man who
we run?" Let us manage our time as well as we aspires to
can, there will yet remain a great deal that will be what he is.
idle, and ill employed. The mind has not other
hours enough by its choice, wherein to do its busi-
ness, without disassociating itself from the body, in
that little space it requires for its necessity. They
aim to put themselves out of themselves, and to
escape from being men. What folly in this! In-
stead of transforming themselves into angels, they
transform themselves into beasts; and instead of
elevating themselves they sink. These transcendent
humours affright me, like places that are high and
inaccessible: and nothing is hard for me to digest
in the life of Socrates but his ecstasies and com-
/
430
OF EXPERIENCE.
·
munication with demons. Nothing is so human in
Plato as that for which they say he was called divine.
And of our sciences, those seem to be the most ter-
restrial and low that are highest mounted. I find
nothing so humble and mortal in the life of Alexan-
der as his fancies about his immortalisation. Phi-
lotas pleasantly jeered him in his answer.
He con-
66
>
gratulated him by letter upon the oracle of Jupiter
Ammon's having placed him amongst the gods;
"For thy sake I am glad of it," said he, "but the
men are to be pitied," who are to live with a man,
and to obey him, who exceeds and is not con-
tented with the measure of a man. Diis te minorem
quod geris, imperas :* Because thou carriest thyself
"lower than the gods, thou dost command men."
The pretty inscription wherewith the Athenians
honoured the entry of Pompey into their city is
conformable to my sense:
D'autant es tu dieu, comme
Tu te recognois homme.†
So much thou hast of deity
As thou dost own of man in thee.
It is absolute, and as it were, a divine perfection, for
a man to know how to enjoy his being, as he ought.
We seek other conditions, by reason we do not un-
derstand the use of our own; and go out of ourselves,
for want of knowing what we do. It is to much
purpose to go upon stilts; for when upon stilts, we
must yet walk with our legs; and when seated upon
the most elevated throne in the world, we are but
seated upon our breach. The fairest lives, in my
opinion, are those which regularly accommodate
themselves to the common and human model; yet
without miracle, and without extravagance: but old
age stands a little in need of more tender treat-
* Hor. lib. iii. ode 6, ver, 5.
In the Life of Pompey, by Plutarch, chap. 7.
:
OF EXPERIENCE.
431
ment. Let us recommend it to God, the protector
of health and wisdom; but yet let it be gay and so-
ciable:
Frui paratis et valido mihi
Latoe dones, et precor integrâ
Cum mente, nec turpem senectam
Degere, nec cythara carentem.*
Grant this Apollo, and I ask no more,
A mind to use my present store
With health and life, but not so long
As brings contempt, and cramps my song.
* Horace, lib. i. ode 31, ver. 17, &c.
END OF MONtaigne's esSAYS.
3
APPENDIX,
Containing Six Letters from Montaigne, which never appeared
before in any Edition of his Essays, nor any where else, except
in a small Collection, now extremely scarce, which Montaigne
published with the Royal Privilege at Paris, A. D. 1571.
LETTER I.
An Introduction of Boetia's Translation of Xeno-
phon's Tract, entitled Economy; To Monsieur
de Lansac, Knight of the King's Order, a Mem-
ber of his Privy Council, Superintendant of his
Finances, and Captain of the Hundred Gentlemen
of his Household.
SIR,
I SEND you Xenophon's Economy, translated
into French by the late Monsieur de la Boetia, a
present which I thought very proper for you, not
only for its coming in the first place, as you know,
from the hand of a person of distinction, a very
great man both in war and peace; but for having
taken its second form from that person, whom I am
certain you both loved and esteemed as long as he
lived. This treatise will be a constant inducement
to the continuance of your favourable opinion and
good-will to his name and memory.
And I will be
bold to say that you need not fear the making any
addition to your regard for him, since, as you took a
VOL. III.
2 F
434
APPENDIX.
liking to him only from the public testimonies of his
character, it is incumbent on me to assure you that
he had so many degrees of ability beyond common
fame, that you are very far from knowing him
thoroughly. He did me the honour, which I rank
with the greatest blessings of my fortune, to form so
strict and close a connection of friendship with me,
that unless my sight at any time failed me, there
was not a bias, motive, or spring in his soul, which
I could not discern and judge of. But without of-
fence to the truth, he was, take him altogether, so
wonderful a man, that lest my word should not be
taken for any thing if I once transgress the bounds.
of probability, I am forced in speaking of him to
constrain and contract myself short of the extent of
what I know of him. And for this time, sir, I shall
barely content myself with entreating you, for the
honour and veneration which you owe to the truth,
to believe and testify that our Guyenne never saw his
fellow amongst the gentlemen of his robe.
hopes, therefore, that you render him that which is
most justly due to him, and with a view to keep him
fresh in your memory, I present you this book,
which at the same time will satisfy you on my part,
that had not my insufficiency laid me under an ex-
press prohibition to do it, I would have been as
ready to present you with something of my own, as
an acknowledgment of the obligations which I am
under to you, and of that favour and friendship
which you have for a long time shown to our family.
But, sir, for want of better coin I offer you in pay-
ment the sincerest tender of my humble service.
Sir, I beg God to protect you, and am
Your obedient servant,
In
MICHAEL DE MONTAIGNE.
2
APPENDIX.
LETTER IL
An Introduction of Boetia's Translation of Plu
tarch's Rules of Marriage. A Monsieur Mon-
sieur de Mesmes, Lord de Roissy et de Mal-assize,
a Member of the King's Privy Council.
SIR,
"
It is one of the most remarkable follies which men
IT
are guilty of, to exert the whole force of their un-
derstanding to give a shock and an overthrow to
opinions, that are commonly received, and such too
as yield us satisfaction and content. For whereas
every thing under heaven employs the means and
instruments with which nature has furnished it, for
the ornament and conveniency of its being, these
men, that they may seem to be of a more gay and
sprightly disposition, not capable of admitting and
entertaining any thing but what has been a thousand
times touched and poised in the nicest balance of
reason, shake their minds out of a calm and easy
situation for the sake of possessing them, after a
long inquiry, with doubt, uneasiness, and fluctua-
tion. It is not without reason that childhood and
simplicity have been so much recommended by
truth itself. For my part, I had rather be more at
my ease, with less ability; more contented, with
less understanding. Therefore, sir, though the men
of most refined parts laugh at our concern for
what may pass in the world after we are departed
from it, as if the soul when lodged elsewhere had no
longer any feeling for things below, yet I think it is
a great comfort, with respect to the frailty and short
space of this life, to think that it is capable of being
strengthened and prolonged by fame and reputa-
tion; and I most heartily give into so pleasant and
favourable an opinion, which is innate in us, without
a curious inquiry into the how or the wherefore.
From hence it is, that as I loved no mortal so well
1
435
2 F 2
436
APPENDIX,
as M. de la Boetia, the greatest man of this age in
my opinion, I would think it a gross failure of my
duty if I wittingly suffered a character so fragrant
and so worthy of recommendation as his to vanish
and slip out of my remembrance, and if I did not
upon that score attempt to revive and raise him
again to life. I believe that he is sensible of it in
some measure, and that these efforts of mine affect
and please him. In truth, he still lodges in my
breast so entire and so lively that I cannot think him
so deeply under ground, nor so totally removed from
our correspondence. Now, sir, because every fresh
discovery which I make of his person and character
is as multiplication of this second life of his,
and because his name is ennobled and honoured
from the place that receives it, it is incumbent on
me not only to cause it to be propagated to the ut-
most of my power, but also to recommend it to the
care of persons of honour and virtue, in the num-
ber whereof you have so high a station, that in order
to afford you an opportunity of receiving this new
guest, and giving him a good welcome, I chose to
present you with this small work, not for any service
that you may reap from it, being very sure that you
have no need of an interpreter, to converse with
Plutarch and his co.npanions; but it is possible that
Madame de Roissy, when she sees the decorum in
her household, and your good harmony represented
to the life, will be well pleased to find her natural
disposition, not only to have attained to, but even to
have surmounted what the wisest philosophers have
been able to conceive of the duty and laws of mar-
riage. And in all cases, I shall ever esteem it an
honour if it lies in my power, to do any thing that
may give you or yours a pleasure; such is my ob-
ligation to serve you.
Sir, I pray God to give you a life long and happy,
being

Montaigne,
April 30, 1570.
Your humble servant,
MICHAEL DE MONTAIGNE.
بودر
437
APPENDIX.
LETTER III.
Printed before Boetia's Translation of Plutarch's
Letter of Consolation to his Wife, and inscribed
by Montaigne,
To Mademoiselle de Montaigne, my Wife.
You know, wife, very well, that, according to the
fashion of the fine gentlemen now-a-days, you are
not to expect to be still courted and caressed. For
they say, that a man of parts may indeed take a wo-
man, but that he is a fool if he marry her. Let
them say as they list; for my own part, I keep to
the plain fashion of old age, of which I now and
then wear the beard. And in truth novelty is so
expensive even now to this poor state (and yet I
know not whether it may not still rise higher), that
in all cases and places I wash my hands of it. Let
you and I, wife, live after the old French way. You
may remember how that dear brother and insepara-
ble companion of mine, M. de la Boetia, did on his
death bed give me his papers and books, which were
afterwards my most favourite furniture. I neither
desire nor deserve that they should be applied solely
to my own use. For this reason I have resolved to
give some of them to my friends. And, because I
think I have none more intimate than yourself, I
send you his French translation of Plutarch's Letter
of Consolation to his Wife, being very sorry, that
fortune has rendered this so suitable a present for
you, and that though you have had no child but
one daughter, after long expectation, when we had
been married four years, you were forced to part
with her in the second year of her age. But I leave
it to Plutarch to console you, and to admonish you
of
your duty in this case, desiring that you would
for my sake give him credit; for he will discover my
intentions to you, and what may be urged upon this
head, much better than I can. To conclude, wife,
438
APPENDIX.
I earnestly recommend myself to your favour, and
pray God to preserve you. I am
Your good husband,
Paris,
Sept. 10, 1570.
MICHAEL DE Montaigne.
LETTER IV.
1
Printed before some Latin Verses of Stephen de la
Boetia.
To Monseigneur, Monsieur de l'Hospital, Chancellor
of France.
MONSEIGNEUR,
I HAVE a notion that such gentlemen as you, to
whom fortune and the reason of things have com-
mitted the administration of the public affairs, are
not more curious in an inquiry, than how you may
attain to the knowledge of the men in your offices;
for there is scarce any community so barren, but it
has men enough in it for the commodious discharge
of all its functions, provided its department and ju-
risdiction can be justly laid out. And when that
point is once gained, there would be nothing re-
maining to hinder the perfect composition of a state.
Now the more desirable this is, the more difficult it
is; forasmuch as neither your eyes can see so far as
to try and choose in so great and so diffuse a mul-
titude, nor can they penetrate to the bottom of men's
hearts to discover their intentions and their con-
sciences, the chief articles to be considered; so that
there was never yet any establishment ever so good,
in which we have not often observed the mistake of
such allotment and election. And in those, where
ignorance and malice, dissimulation, bribery, in-
trigues, and violence carry the point, if any election
is made meritoriously, it is undoubtedly to be
APPENDIX.
439
ascribed to fortune, which by the inconstancy of its
various turns happened this one time to fall into the
train of reason. This consideration, sir, has often
been my comfort, knowing M. Stephen de la Boetia,
one of the most proper and necessary men for the
chief offices in France, to have lived all his days un-
employed and neglected by his own fire-side, to the
great damage of the commonweal; for as to his own
part I must tell you, sir, that he so abounded in
those possessions and treasures which defy fortunez
that never was any man more satisfied or more con-
tented. I know indeed that he was advanced to
those dignities of his neighbourhood, which are
reckoned great; and I know moreover that never
was any man better qualified for them, and that at
thirty-two years of age, when he died, he had ac-
quired greater reputation in that class than any of
his predecessors. But surely it is unreasonable to
let a man who would make a good officer, remain a
common soldier, and to employ those in mean of
fices who would act well in the chief. The truth is,
that his abilities were not employed to the best ad-
vantage, nor sufficiently exerted; so that over and
above his office, he had a surplus of great talents that
were idle and unprofitable, which might have been
of service to the public affairs, and an honour to
himself. But, sir, since he was so backward to push
himself into the grande monde, it not being the lot
of virtue and ambition to lodge in one breast; and
as he lived in times so stupid or so full of envy, that
he could not possibly have any assistance from another's
testimony of him, I long prodigiously that at least his
memory, which alone must now and ever lay claim to
the offices of our friendship, may receive the reward
of his merit, and that it may have a place in the re-
commendation of persons of honour and virtue.
For this reason, sir, I was desirous of bringing him
to light, and presenting him to you by these few La-
tin verses that he has left behind him. Quite con-
trary to the mason who exhibits the gayest part of
12
440
APPENDIX,
his edifice towards the street, and to the mercer
who makes a show and parade of the richest sample
of his goods, the things most to be prized in my
friend, the very juice and marrow of his merit, went
away with him, and we have nothing left of him but
the bark and the leaves. The man who is capable
of displaying the well regulated sallies of his imagi
nation, his piety, his virtue, his justice, the vivacity
of his temper, the weight and solidity of his judg-
ment, the sublimity of his conceptions, so far ex-
alted above those of the vulgar, his learning, the
gracefulness that usually accompanied all his actions,
the tender love which he had for his wretched coun-
try, and his mortal and avowed aversion to every
vice, but especially to that base traffic which is
screened under the honourable name of justice,
would certainly kindle a singular affection for him
in the breast of all good men, mixed with a wonder-
ful regret for the loss of him. But, sir, this is so far
out of my power, that he never had a thought of
leaving any evidence to posterity of the fruit of his
studies, and nothing remains thereof but what he
wrote now and then to pass away the time. Be this
as it will, I entreat you, sir, to receive him with a
good countenance; and as we often judge of the
greater by the less, and as the very pastimes of
great men give an honourable idea to the clear
sighted, of the source from which they spring, I
hope you will by this work of his rise to the know-
ledge of himself, and by consequence love and em
brace his name and memory. In so doing, sir, you
will but render an equivalent to the very settled
opinion which he had of your virtue, and also ac-
complish what he exceedingly longed for whilst he
lived. For there was not a man in the world, in
whose acquaintance and friendship he thought him-
self more happy than in yours. But if any one takes
it ill that I make so bold with other people's con-
cerns, I must tell him, that never was any thing
more exactly written or delivered in the schools of
APPENDIX.
441

the philosophers, concerning the prerogatives and
duties of sacred friendship than what was the prac-
tice between this personage and me.
For the rest,
sir, this trivial present, like killing two birds with
one stone, will serve, if you please, to show you the
honour and veneration in which I hold your abilities,
and singular inherent qualities; for as to such as
are external and fortuitous, it is not my fancy to
bring them into the accompt.
Sir, I pray God to grant you very happy long life.
Your obedient humble servant,
MICHAEL DE MONTAIGNE.
Montaigne,
April 30, 1570,
LETTER V.
Or rather an extract of a letter, which Monsieur
the Counsellor de Montaigne, wrote to his father
Monseigneur de Montaigne, containing some parti-
culars which he observed, of the sickness and death
of the late M. de la Boetia.
As to his last words, if a good account of them is to
be expected from any hand, it is undoubtedly from
mine; not only because all the time of his sickness,
he was not so fond of conversing with any body as
with me, but also because, such was the singular and
brotherly love we bore to one another, that I had a
most certain knowledge of his designs, opinions, and
temper, all his life-time, as much no doubt as it was
possible for any one man to know of another, and
because I knew them to be sublime, virtuous, de-
terminate, and withal wonderful: I foresaw, that if
his distemper would give him strength to express
himself, nothing would come from his lips but what
was great and very worthy of imitation; therefore
442
APPENDIX.
gave the utmost attention to it. It is true, Mon-
seigneur, that as my memory is very short, and more-
over bewildered by the trouble of my mind for so
heavy and important a loss, it is impossible but I
may have forgot many things which I could wish
were known; but as for those which I recollect, I will
send you them with the strictest regard to truth that
is possible. For in order to represent him thus
cruelly stopped in his worthy progress; to show
you his invincible courage in a body broke down
and demolished by the furious efforts of pain and
death, would, I confess, require a much better style
than mine, because, though when he talked of grave
and important subjects he mentioned them in such a
manner that it was difficult to write them down so
well, yet it seemed at this time as if there was an
emulation between his thoughts and his words which
should do him the last service. For sure I am
that I never observed him to have so many and
such fine imaginations, and those uttered with so
much eloquence, as his were all the time of his
illness. Presuming, Monseigneur, that you would
not mislike it, I have chose to bring into my narra-
tive his most trivial and common topics, which hav-
ing been delivered by him at that time, and in the
height of so great an affliction, are a singular evi-
dence of a mind quite at ease, tranquil, and secure.
On Monday the 9th of August, 1563, after I was
come home from the Palais, I sent to invite him to
dine with me. He returned me for answer, with
thanks, that he was a little out of order, and that I
should do him a pleasure if I would but spend an
hour with him before he set out for Medor. Soon
after I had dined I waited on him. He was lain
down on the bed with his clothes on, and I found his
countenance strangely altered. He told me that he
had a looseness on him, attended with the gripes, ever
since the day before when he played with M. d'Es-
cars, and wore only a doublet under a silk garment ;
and that often when he caught a cold it was attended
APPENDIX.
443
with such fits. I thought it proper that he should
undertake the journey he had intended, but advised
him to go no farther that evening than to Germig-
nan, which is but two leagues out of town. I did
this the rather, because the place where he lay was
close to some houses that were infected with the
plague, of which he was somewhat afraid, since he
returned from Perigord and the Agenois, where
it raged in all parts; besides I had formerly myself
found benefit in such a distemper as his was, by rid-
ing on horseback. Accordingly he set out, accom-
panied by his wife and his uncle M. de Bouillonas.
Early the next morning, behold, one of his domes-
tics came to me from Mademoiselle de la Boetia, to
acquaint me that he had been seized that night with
a violent dysentery; she sent for a doctor and an
apothecary, and desired me to come to him, which
after dinner I did.
%
He was overjoyed to see me, and when I was tak-
ing my leave of him in order to return home, with a
promise to visit him again next day, he desired me,
with more affection and importunity than ever he
had begged any thing in his life, to be with him as
much as possible; this touched me a little to the
quick. Yet I was actually going away when Made-
moiselle de la Boetia, who had already a foreboding
of I know not what calamity, entreated me, with
tears in her eyes, that I would not stir from him that
night. Accordingly she prevailed on me to stay, at
which he was very much cheered. Next day I re-
turned home, and on Thursday I went to see him
again. His distemper was worse, and his flux of
blood, with the gripings, which weakened him very.
much, increased every hour.
On the Friday I saw him again, and on Saturday
I found him very low-spirited; he then told me that
his distemper was of the contagious kind, and more-
over, that it was disagreeable and choleric; that he
very well knew my temper, and desired me to visit
him but now and then, yet as often as I could. Af-
444
APPENDIX.
•
ter this I did not leave him. Till the following
Sunday he had said nothing to me of what he thought
of his being, and we discoursed only about the
par-
ticular circumstances of his malady, and what the
ancient physicians said of it. We had very little
talk about public affairs, which I found, from the
very first day, he had an aversion to. But on the
Sunday he fainted away: and as he came to himself,
he said that all things appeared to him in a confusion,
and that he had seen nothing but a thick cloud and
an obscure mist, in which every thing was confound-
ed and disordered; but that nevertheless all this fit
had given him no displeasure. Death, said I then
to him, has nothing worse than this: nay, nothing,
replied he, so bad.
Having had no manner of sleep since the first at-
tack of his distemper, and growing still worse, not-
withstanding all remedies, so that certain draughts
were now taken by him which are never ordered but
in cases of the last extremity, he began from this
time to despair altogether of his recovery, and com-
municated his thoughts to me. That same day, be-
cause he was in good temper, I said to him, that
considering the extraordinary affection which I bore
to him, it would ill become me if I did not take
care, that as all his actions in health had been very
prudent and well weighed, he should continue to
act with the same prudence in his sickness; and
that if it were God's will that he should be worse, I
should be very sorry that for want of advice he
should leave any of his domestic affairs unsettled,
not only by reason of the damage which his relations
might suffer by it, but for the sake of his reputa-
tion; which piece of advice he took very kindly at
my hands; and after having solved some difficulties
which kept him in suspense, he desired me to call
his uncle and his wife singly to him, that he might
give them to understand, what he had resolved on
as to his will. I told him that would cast them
down. No, no, said he, I will comfort them, and
APPENDIX.
445
give them much better hopes of my recovery than
I entertain myself. And then he asked me whe-
ther the fainting-fits which he had, did not a little
surprise us. That is of no moment, said I to him,
these are fits which are common to such distempers.
True, brother, replied he, it is of no significance,
though what you are most afraid of should be the
consequence. To you alone, said I, it would be a
happy turn, but the hurt would be to me, who should
thereby lose the company of so great, so wise, and
sure a friend, whose equal I am certain I should
never find. It is very possible, he added, that you
never may; and I assure you, that what makes me
somewhat solicitous for my recovery, and not to
hasten to that passage to which I am gone already
half way, is the consideration of the loss you will
sustain, as well as that poor man and poor woman
there (alluding to his uncle and his wife) whom I
love entirely, and who, I am sure, will have much
difficulty to bear the loss of me; which indeed will
be a very great one, both to them and you. I am also
concerned for the regret it will be received with by
many people, who have hitherto had a love and
value for me, and whose conversation verily, if I
could help it, I own I should be glad not to lose as
yet. And if I go off the stage of this world, I en-
treat you, brother, as you know them, to give them
a testimony of the friendship I retain for them, to
the last breath of my life: and moreover, brother, I
was not born perhaps to so little purpose, but I have
had it in my power to serve the common cause.
But be this as it will, I am ready to depart when it
shall please God, being very sure that I shall enjoy
the ease you have foretold to me. And as to you,
my friend, I know you to be so wise, how much
soever it affects
you, that you will nevertheless con-
form patiently and willingly to whatever it shall
please his divine Majesty to order concerning me;
and I beseech you to take care that the mourning
for my departure may not drive that good man and
446
APPENDIX.
good woman out of the pale of their reason. He
then asked me how they behaved already: I told
him very well, considering the importance of the
case. I suppose so, said he, now that they have still.
some hopes; but should I once deprive them of any
hopes, you will be much perplexed to keep them in
temper. In pursuance of this regard for them, he
always concealed from them the certain persuasion,
he had of his death, as long as he lived, and ear-
nestly begged me to behave in the same manner.
When he saw them near him, he affected to look
brisk and gay, and fed them with flattering hopes.
I now left him to go and call them. They com-
posed their countenances the best they could for a
while; and after we were seated round his bed, we
four being all alone, he spoke as follows with a set-
tled countenance, as it were quite gay: "My uncle.
"and my wife, Lassure you upon my credit, that
"no-fresh attack of my distemper, or misapprehen-
"sion that I have of my recovery, has put it into my
"head to call you, in order to apprise you of my
"intention; for, God be praised, I am very well,
"and full of hopes; but having long been convinced,
"both by experience and study, of the little secu-
"rity that is to be placed in the instability and in-
"constancy of human affairs, and even of the un-
"certainty of that life whereof we are so fond,
.which is nevertheless but smoke and a mere no-
"thing; and considering also, that because I am
"sick, I am so much the nearer advanced to the
"danger of death, I am resolved to put my domes-
"tic affairs in order before I die, after having first
"taken your advice."
And then addressing his
discourse to his uncle: My good uncle," said he,
were I at this hour to give you an account of the
"great obligations I have to you, I should not
"know where to end. It is enough for me that hi-
"therto, wheresoever I have been, and with whom
"soever I have talked, I have always said that
"whatever a wise, good, and most bountiful father
66
<c
APPENDIX.
4.4.7
CC
"could do for his son, all this have you done for
me; both for the care that was necessary to give
" me good learning, and when you were pleased to
"push me into public employments; so that the
"whole course of my life has been full of great
"and praise-worthy offices of your friendship to-
"wards me: in short, whatever I have, I hold
❝from you, and acknowledge that I am obliged for
"to you, who have been to me a father indeed; so
"that as the son of the family, I have no power to
"dispose of any thing, unless you are pleased to
give me leave." He then was silent, and staid
till sighs and sobs gave his uncle leisure to answer
him, that whatever he thought fit would be always
very acceptable to him. Having purposed at the
same time to make him his heir, he desired him to
accept of his estate.
66
And then turning his discourse to his wife, "My
"likeness," said he (for so he often called her on
account of some ancient relation between them),
" as I have been joined to you by the sacred tie of
marriage, which is one of the most respectable and
"inviolable obligations which God has laid upon us
"here below for keeping up human society, I have
"loved, cherished, and esteemed you as far as I
"was able; and am fully assured that you have re-
"turned me a reciprocal affection, which I cannot
sufficiently acknowledge. I desire you to take
"that share of my goods which I give you, and
"to content yourself therewith, though I know
"indeed that it is very little, compared with your
"deserts."
'
After this, addressing himself to me, "My bro-
ther," said he, "whom I love so dearly, and
"whom I have chosen out of such a multitude, in
"order to renew that virtuous and sincere friend-
66
ship with you, the exercise of which has by the
"vices of the age been so long unknown to us, that
"there are only some old traces left of it in the mer
"mory of antiquity, I beseech you as a token of
my affection for you, to accept of the gift of my
66
448
APPENDIX.
"library and books; a present very small, but given
"with a good heart, and which is the fitter for you
66
considering you are a lover of learning. This will
(C serve you as a pevnμórvvov, or a remembrancer of
your companion."
66
Then addressing himself to all three of us in ge-
neral, he blessed God that in a case of such extre-
mity he was accompanied by all those that were the
dearest to him in the world, and said, he thought it
a very goodly sight to see four persons assembled to-
gether so well agreed, and united in friendship, not
doubting, he said, that we all loved one another una-
nimously, each one for the sake of the others. And
after having recommended us to one another, he
proceeded thus: "Having now settled my temporal
affairs, I must also think of my spirituals. I am
a Christian, I am a Catholic; such I have lived,
"and such I am determined to die. Send for a
priest to come to me, for I am not willing to be
"deficient in this last duty of a Christian."
66
66
With this particular he ended his discourse, which
he had carried on with such a steady countenance,
such a strength of language and voice, that whereas,
when I entered his chamber, I found him weak,
mighty slow in the utterance of his words, his pulse
very low, as if he had a lingering fever, and tending
to death, his countenance quite pale and wan; he
seemed now, as if it had been by a miracle, to have
resumed fresh vigour, with a more ruddy complexion
and a stronger pulse, so that I made him feel mine
in order to compare them together. At that instant
my heart was so sunk that I could scarce answer him
a word. But two or three hours after, in order to
keep up his noble courage, and also because I wished,
from the tender concern I had all my life long for
his honour and glory, that there were more witnesses
of so many strong proofs of his magnanimity, by
having a larger company in his chamber, I said to
him, that I blushed for shame to think that my cou-
rage failed me in the hearing of what he, who was
so great a sufferer, had the courage to tell me; that
APPENDIX.
449
hitherto I had thought, that God scarce ever gave
us so great an advantage over human incidents, and
could hardly believe what I had read of it in some
histories; but that having now seen such a proof of
it, I praised God that I had found it in a person, by
whom I was so much beloved, and who was to me
so dear, and that this would serve me as an example
to act the same part in my turn.
He interrupted me by desiring I would behave so,
and demonstrate by the effect, that the conversation
we had had in the time of our health was not only
oral, but deeply engraved on our hearts, and ready to
be put in execution upon the first occasion that of
fered; adding, that this was the true practice of our
studies, and of philosophy. Then taking me by the
hand, "My brother, my friend," said he, "I assure
"thee I have done many things, I think, in my life,
"with as much pain and difficulty as I do this. And
"when all is said and done, it is a long while ago
"since I was prepared for it, and that I had got all
my lesson by heart. But is it not enough to have
"lived to my age? I was just entering into my
"thirty-third year. By God's grace all my days
"hitherto have been healthy and happy; but through
"the inconstancy of human affairs they could not
" continue so longer. It was now time to launch
"into serious affairs, and to expect to meet with a
"thousand unpleasant scenes, as particularly the in-
"conveniences of old age, of which I am by this
"means quit: and, besides, it is probable that I
"have lived to this hour with more innocence and
"less ill-nature' than I should have done, if God had
"permitted me to live till my head had been filled
" with the care of getting wealth and ease. As for
my part, I am certain that I am going to God,
"and the seat of the blessed." But now, because
my countenance betrayed some uneasiness at these
words of his, "What, brother," said he, "would
you possess me with fear? if I had any terror
2 G
cc
VOL. III.
450
APPENDIX.
66
upon me, whose business should it be to take it
"off, but yours?"
The notary, who was sent for to receive his last
will and testament, coming in the evening, I made
him commit it to writing, and then went to ask him
whether he was not willing to sign it: "Not sign it?"
said he, “I will sign it with my own hand. But I
"wish, brother, that they had given me more time,
" for I find myself extremely weary, and so weak
"that I am in a manner spent." I was going to
change the discourse, but he recovered himself on a
sudden, and said to me, that he had not very long
to live, and he desired of me to know whether the
notary wrote a swift hand, for he should scarce make
any pause in dictating. I called the notary to him,
and he dictated his will to him on the spot, so fast
that he had much ado to keep pace with him. When
he had made an end, he desired me to read it to
him, and said to me: "See, what it is to take care
"of that fine thing, our riches." Sunt hæc quæ
hominibus vocantur bona: "These are the things
"that men call good." After the will was signed,
his chamber being full of people, he asked me if
talking would do him any harm; I said no, provided
he spoke softly.
Then he called Mademoiselle de Saintquentin, his
niece, to him, and spoke to her thus. "My dear
"niece, I think that ever since I have known you,
"I have seen the rays of a very good nature sparkle
66
in your countenance; but these last offices which
ડ you perform with so much affection and diligence
"in my present necessity, give me very great hopes
"of you, and really I am obliged to you, and thank
you most affectionately. Now, in order to dis-
charge my conscience, I advise you, in the first
ક place, to devote yourself to God, for this is no
"doubt the principal part of your duty, and that
"without which no other action of ours can be
"either good or goodly; and when such devotion is
CC
APPENDIX.
451
૬૮
"hearty, it necessarily draws after it all other vir-
"tuous actions. Next to God, you must love and
"honour your father and your mother, even your
"mother my sister, whom I take to be one of the
"best and most prudent women in the world; and
"desire you to regulate your life by her example.
"Do not suffer yourself to be drawn aside by plea-
"sures. Avoid as a pestilence those silly familiar-
"ities with which you see the women sometimes in
"dulge the men; for though there may be no harm
"in them at first, yet by little and little they cor
"rupt the mind, and lead it to a thoughtless state,
"and from thence to the abominable sink of vice.
"Believe me, the surest protection of a young
"woman's chastity is gravity. I desire you (and
"expect that you will remember me by frequently
"recollecting the friendships I have showed you),
"not to complain and grieve yourself for the loss of
"me; and, as far as is in my power, I lay all my
"friends under the same prohibition, since it would
"look as if they envied the happiness of which, by
"the favour of death, I shall soon see myself in
"possession; and assure yourself, my girl, that if
"God was now to indulge me with the choice, whe-
"ther of living my life over again, or of finishing
"the journey which I have begun, I should be ac-
tually at a loss which to choose. My dear niece,
“adieu.”
66
•
He then called to Mademoiselle d'Arsat, his
daughter-in-law, and said to her, "My daughter,
"you have no great need of admonitions from me,
"as you have a mother whom I have found so pru-
“dent, so very conformable to my temper and in-
"clinations, that she never once offended me. You
"will be very well instructed by such a tutoress;
"and do not think it strange if I, who am not re-
"lated to you by blood, have a care and anxiety for
For since you are the daughter of a person
you.
so near to me in alliance, it is impossible but I
"must also be touched with whatever concerns you.
C
tr
:
2G 2
452
APPENDIX.
"At the same time I have ever taken as much care
"of the affairs of M. d'Arsat, your brother, as if
C6
they were my own. You have enough both of
"wealth and beauty. You are a gentlewoman of a
"good family. You have nothing more to do than
"to grace them both with the talents of the mind,
" which I desire you would not fail of doing. I do
"not forbid you that vice which is so detestable in
"women; for I am not willing so much as to think
"you can entertain a favourable thought of it, nay,
"I am of opinion that you abhor the very name of
"it. My daughter-in-law, farewell."
"
Though the whole chamber was full of weeping
and wailing, it did not interrupt the thread of his
discourses, which were pretty long. But after he
had made an end, he ordered every one to quit his
room except his garrison, which was the name he
gave to his maid-servants. And then calling to my
brother de Beauregard, he said to him: "M. de
"Beauregard, I thank you very heartily for the pains
"which you take for me. I have something very
“much at heart, which I long to tell you, and will
"therefore, with your leave, discover it to you.
And being encouraged by my brother, he proceeded
thus: "I swear to you that of all who have set about
"the reformation of the church, I never thought
"there was any one man that entered upon it with
"better zeal and a more entire, sincere, and undis-
guised affection than you. And I verily believe,
you was excited to it merely by the vices of our
prelates, who undoubtedly stand in need of great
"amendment, and by certain imperfections, that
"have in a course of time crept into our church.
"I do not wish at this juncture to dissuade you from
“it, as I do not willingly desire any body to do any
"thing whatsoever against his conscience. But I
"would fain caution you, that in regard to the good
"reputation which your family has acquired by their
"perpetual agreement, a family than which not one
"in the world is dearer to me (good God, where is
66
66
66
APPENDIX.
453
CC
"such another family as this, which never did an
"action unbecoming an honest man!) in regard to
"the will of your father, that good father to whom
you are so much obliged, and of your uncle, and
"for the sake of your brethren, you would avoid
"coming to extremities; be not so sharp and so
"violent; accommodate yourself to them. Make
no separate combination nor party; but unite
"yourselves together. You see what ruin these dis-
"sentions have brought upon this kingdom, and I
❝ can assure you that they will be attended with still

64
greater mischiefs: and as you are not deficient
"either in wisdom or goodness, be cautious of
"bringing your family into these inconveniences,
"for fear they should deprive it of the honour and
"happiness which it has enjoyed to this hour.
"Take what I say to you, sir, in good part, and
"for a sure testimony of the friendship which I
"bear to you. For with this view I hitherto re-
st served my mention of it to you; and perhaps the
"condition in which you now see me speaking it
"will give my words more weight and authority
" with you." My brother thanked him very much.
On the Monday morning he was so bad that he
quitted all hopes of life; insomuch that the very
next time he saw me, he in a very deplorable tone
said: "Brother, have you no pity for the many tor-
"ments that I suffer? Don't you now see, that all
"the relief you give me serves only to prolong my
"pain?" Soon after this he fainted; so that we
began to give him over for dead: at length by the
power of vinegar and wine he was revived. But he
did not live long after, and hearing us lament about
him, he said: "My God, who is it torments me so?
Why was I robbed of that profound and pleasant
"rest which I had? pray leave me to myself." And
then hearing me, he said, “And you too, brother,
"are not willing neither that I should be cured.
"Oh, what ease do you deprive me of!" At last,
being a little more come to himself, he desired a
66
9
454
APPENDIX.
66
ύδωρ
little wine, and liking it well, said to me, it was the
best liquor in the world. "No, surely," said I, for
argument sake, "water is the best.” "Yes, with-
"out doubt," replied he, "water is an excellent
"thing, udwę api Cov." His extreme parts, even to
his face, were now become as cold as clay, attended
with a death-sweat, which ran down all his body, and
he had scarce any sign of a pulse left. This morn-
ing he confessed to his priest, who did not bring all
the necessaries with him, and therefore could not
celebrate the mass. But on Tuesday morning M. de
la Boetia sent for him to assist him, as he said, in the
performance of the last duty of a Christian. Con-
sequently he heard mass and received the sacrament.
And when the priest was taking leave of him, he said:
My spiritual father, I humbly beseech it of you,
" and those who are under your charge, to pray to
"God for me, that if it be ordered in the most sa-
"cred rolls of the decrees of God that I should
"now end my days, that he would take pity on my
"soul, and forgive me my sins, which are without
"number, as it is not possible for so vile and base a
"creature as I am, to perform the commands of so
"high and mighty a Master; or if it seemeth good
"to him, that I should tarry longer in this world,
"beg of him to put a speedy period to the agonies
"which I suffer; and that he would be so gracious
"to me, as to guide my steps hereafter in the path
"of his holy will, and to make me better than I
"have been." At this period he stopped a little to
take breath, and seeing that the priest was going
away, he recalled him, and said to him: "I am
"willing to declare this also in your presence: I

CC
protest, that as I have been baptised and have
"lived, so I am willing to die, in the faith and reli-
gion which Moses first planted in Egypt, which
"the patriarchs received afterwards in Judæa, and
cc
which in the progress of time has been handed
"down to us in France.". It seemed as if he would
fain have spoke a little more if he had been able to
APPENDIX.
455
66
have held out; but he concluded with desiring his
uncle and me to pray to God for him; this being, he
said, the best office that Christians can perform for
one another. In speaking he happened to uncover
his shoulder, and desired his uncle to cover it again,
though he had a valet nearer to him: and then look-
ing upon me, he said, Ingenui est, cui multum
debeas, ei plurimum velle debere: "It is the quality
" of an ingenuous mind to desire to be under still
greater obligation to the person whom we are
"much obliged to already." In the afternoon M.
de Belot came to visit him, and taking him by the
hand, said to him, "My friend, I came hither, sir,
66 on purpose to pay my debt, but I have found a
"worthy creditor, who has forgiven it me." A
little after, starting suddenly out of a dose, he said,
"Well, well, come when it will, I wait for it with
"serenity and pleasure." Words which he repeated
two or three times in his illness. Afterwards as they
were forcing open his mouth to take a draught, he
said, turning himself to M. de Belot, An vivere
tanti est? Is life worth all this ado ?"
66
"Is In the
evening death begun, indeed, at night to strike him
with its arrows, and as I was at supper, he sent for
me, being nothing now but skin and bones, or as he
called himself, Non homo, sed species hominis: "Not
66 a man, but of the human race." And he said to
me with the utmost struggles:
My brother and
"friend, God grant that I may see the imaginations
"that I have just been entertained with, realised."
After he had stopped a while, and laboured hard
with the deepest sighs for utterance, for then the
tongue was beginning plainly to deny him its last
office. I said, "What were those ideas, brother?"
"Great," said he, "very great." "It never hap-

tu
pened before," I added, "that I had not the ho-
"nour of being made acquainted with all your ideas;
"will you not let me still enjoy that confidence?”
Yes, surely, brother," said he, "but it is not in
my power to discover them; they are wonderful,
66
66
456
APPENDIX.
•
"infinite, and unspeakable." There he stopped,
for he could proceed no farther; insomuch, that a
little before he would fain have talked to his wife;
when he said to her, with the most cheerful counte-
nance he could put on, that he had something to tell
her; and he seemed to strive to speak; but his spirits
failing, he called for a little wine to raise them, but
it signified nothing; for he fainted away on a sudden,
and for a good while lost his sight. Being now just
on the confines of death, and hearing the lamenta-
tions of his wife, he called her, and spoke thus to
her: "My image, you torment yourself before the
"time; won't you pity me? Take courage.. Ve-
"rily I am more in pain for what I see you suffer
"than what I feel myself, and with reason, because
"as for the evils which we feel of our own, it is not,
"properly speaking, we who feel them, but certain
"senses which God has planted in us; and, what
"we feel for others, we feel by a certain judgment
"and faculty of reasoning. But I see I am going."
This he said because his spirits failed him. Now
being afraid that he had frighted his wife, he reco-
vered himself and said: "I find myself inclined to
sleep good night, wife, go your ways." This
was the last leave he took of her. After she was
gone, "Brother," said he to me, keep close by
me, if
you please;" and then either feeling the
darts of death come thicker and sharper, or else the
force of some hot medicine which they had made him
swallow, he spoke with a stronger and more audible
voice, and turned himself in bed with perfect vio-
lence, so that all the company began to have some
hopes, because hitherto he had been so very weak
that we despaired of him. Then, amongst other
things, he begged me again and again, with the
greatest affection, to make room for him, so that I
was afraid he was delirious. Moreover, when I had
gently remonstrated to him that he was overpowered
by his distemper, and that these were not the words
of a man in his right senses; he did not seem to be
.66
66
APPENDIX.
4.57
<<
"
convinced, but repeated it still more strongly. "Bro-
"ther, brother, what, won't you give me room?"
insomuch that he forced me to convince him by rea-
son, and to say to him, that since he breathed and
talked he had by consequence his place.
❝ Yes,
"yes," said he, "but that is not what I want; and
"besides, say what you will, I have no longer a
"being." "God will give you a better very soon,'
said I. "Would to God, brother," said he, "I
was there now; I have longed to be gone these
"three days past." In this distressed state he often
called to me, in order, for most part, to know whe-
ther I was near him. At length he inclined a little
to rest, which confirmed us still more in our good
hopes: so that I went out of his chamber to congra-
tulate thereupon with Mademoiselle de la Boetia;
but about an hour after naming me once or twice,
and then fetching a deep sigh, he gave up the ghost
about three o'clock on Wednesday morning, the
18th of August, 1563, aged 32 years, 9 months, and
17 days.
LETTER VI.*
To Monseigneur Monseigneur de Montaigne.
MONSEIGNEUR,
IN obedience to your commands last year at your
house at Montaigne, I have with my own hands put
that great Spanish divine and philosopher Raymond
de Sebonde into a French dress, and have as much
* I met with this letter by way of Dedication of Raymond Se-
bonde's Natural Theology, translated into French by Michael Seig-
neur de Montaigne, knight of the king's order, and gentleman in
ordinary of his privy-chamber. Printed at Rouen by John de la
Mere, an. 1641.
458
APPENDIX.
as lay in my power stripped him of that rough mien
and unpolite aspect, which he first appeared in to
you; so that, in my opinion, he is comely and com-
plaisant enough to appear in the best of company.
It is possible that some delicate curious readers may
perceive, that he has a little of the Gascogne turn
and bias; but they may be the more ashamed of their
own negligence, in suffering a person, quite a novice
and a learner, to get the start of them in this work.
Now, Monseigneur, it is but reason that it should
be published to the world, and have the credit of
your name, because what amendment and reforma-
tion it has is all owing to you. Yet I plainly per-
ceive, that if you should please to settle accounts
with him, you will be very much his debtor, since in
exchange for his excellent and most religious dis-
courses, of his sublime, and, as it were, divine con-
ceptions, it will appear that you have only brought
him words and language, a merchandise so mean and
vulgar, that he who has the greatest stock of it is
peradventure the worse for it.
Monseigneur, I beg God to grant you a long and
happy life.
Your most humble and most obedient son,
MICHAEL DE MONTAIGNE.
N. B. Mr. Coste has inserted a letter before this, which is
addressed to Mademoiselle de Paumier, but it is only a short
one, of mere compliment.
C. Baldwin, Printer,
New Bridge-street, London.
THE END.
INDEX.
A.
ABSENCE of friends, of what utility, vol. iii. pag. 241
Abstinence, of doing, iii. 304
Absurdities, what is the greatest, ii. 268
Abundance distasteful and clogging, i. 348
Abuses of the world, how begot, iii. 312
Abydeans, their rash death, i. 469
Accidents, fatal, how easily borne by some people, i. 326-Some
accidents more intolerable than death, 452-Some without re-
medy, iii. 204
Accommodations of the quarrels of Montaigne's days, shameful and
false, iii. 298
Accusations answered with an ironical and scoffing confession,
iii. 331
Achaians abhorred fraud in war, i. 25
Acknowledgments of benefits, iii. 228
Acquaintance, domestic, i. 229
Action, forced, has neither grace nor honour, iii. 227
Actions of princes examined after their decease, i. 12-First ac-
tions of children are indecisive of what they will be hereafter, 166
-Virtuous actions now unknown, 277-Actions of former ages,
278-What actions men should most covet to perform, 318-In-
constancy of, 429, &c.—Good actions to be judged by the inten-
tion, 435—External actions, no sure index of the mind, 438—
Actions animate words, ii. 332-The most common actions, the
most troublesome, iii. 103-Public actions subject to various in-
terpretations, 300-Necessary actions pleasant, 418-Actions of
all sorts, equally honourable to a wise man, 420

Adder, a song on, i. 258
Admiration, the foundation of philosophy, iii. 312
Admire nothing, i 249
Adoration, ii. 153 Of one God made man, 244
Advice, free, necessary to kings, iii. 377
Advocate, who fittest for, i. 42
Advocates, ii. 233
Ægina, the people of, had their thumbs cut off by the Athenians,
ii. 399
Ælius Verus's answer to his wife, who reproached him for his amours
with other women, i. 239
INDEX.
Æmilianus Scipio's character, ii. 485
Æmilius Lepidus, his orders respecting his burial, i. 18 & Note→→
His death, 76
Æmilius Regillus could not restrain his soldiers from plunder, i. 28
Æneid, compared with Orlando Furioso, ii. 8
Æschylus, his death, i. 76
Esculapius struck with thunder, ii. 501
Æsop's fables and mythology, ii. 5-His ass, 533-His dog, iii. 362
Affairs, domestic, despised, iii. 209-How affairs ought to be con-
ducted, 297
Affectation unbecoming a courtier, i. 201
Affection of a father towards his children, i. 161-Of parents to-
wards their children, 499, &c.-Natural affection of mothers, very
weak, 520-Adulterate affection, ib.-Affection of wiyes towards
their husbands till they have lost them, ii. 467-Loyal and vehe-
ment affection of a wife towards her husband, 469-Affection well
tempered, 530
Affections, human, extended beyond our existence, i. 11-Affec-
tions of beasts, what they are, iii. 30-Excited by small things,
45-Those of women subject to change, 115-Those towards
children weakened by their imperfections, 227
Affinities of the sun with the Divinity, ii. 155
Africanus, verses in praise of him, i. 367
Age, considerations on, i. 425 to 429-Its last effects, 426-Fit for
managing an estate, ib.-Dispensing gentlemen from the fatigues
of war, 427—Of maturity, ib.-The most capable of great ac-
tions, 428-Fit for marriage, 506
Ages of the world, ii. 241
Agesilaus, how clad, i. 273-His battle with the Boeotians, 360–
Canonized by the Thracians, ii. 179-Mulcted by the Ephori, for
insinuating himself into the hearts of the people, 443-In his
travels lodged in temples; why, iii. 7-His opinion of love, 124
Agis, king of Sparta, his answer to an ambassador from Abdera,
ii. 64
Agrigentines, their inconsistency, i. 432-Their regard to their fa-
vourite animals, ii. 40
Agrippians lived without offensive arms, ii. 302
Air, evening, sharp and dangerous, iii. 385
Albigenses chose to be burnt alive rather than recant,
Albucilla's suicide, ii. 291

i. 314
Alcibiades, his constitution, i. 193-His character, ii. 485-Why
he cut off the tail and ears of his dog, iii. 45-His ambition, 302
-He banished music from tables, 415
Alcimus's armour, i. 530
Alexander the Great, his cruelty, i. 5-His noble answer to Poly-
perchon, why he refused to fight by night, 30-Not afraid to
swallow a dose of poison, 139-Blamed by Philip, his father, for
singing at a feast, 303-Persuaded by his flatterers, that he was
the son of Jupiter, 344-His deep sleep, 356-His horse, 378—
His sweat, 410-Hisvalour defective, 436-His sacrifice to Thetis,
ü. 164-Excellent above all other kings and emperorɛ, 480, &c.-
INDEX.
His actions that may fall under censure, 481-His virtue, iii. 8-
What passed between him and Thalestris queen of the Amazons,
114 Reproved by his father Philip, 143-His followers carried
their heads on one side, 602-Emulous of his father's victories,
302 Enjoyed corporal pleasures, 418-His labour and end of it,
426-His fancies about immortalization, 430
Alexander the Sixth, pope, poisoned, i. 265
Alexander, the tyrant, of Pheres, why he would not see tragedies,
ii. 400
Alexia, two extraordinary events at the siege of it, ii. 462
Almanacks liars, ii. 355
Alphonsus, king, why he thought asses happier than kings, i. 349
Alteration, whatever hurts and astonishes, iii. 386
Alva, duke, compared to the constable De Montmorency, ii. 363
Amadis des Gaules despised by Montaigne, ii. 4
Amasis, king of Egypt, his marriage to a fair Greek, whom at first
he had not power to enjoy, i. 99
Ambassadors detected in falsehoods, i. 39, 40-Sometimes conceal
from their masters what they think fit, 61-Their employment
not limited, ib.-Ambassadors of Samos, 197
Ambition, enemy to society, i. 285-Of Cicero and Pliny, 300-
unworthy, 301-Its power, 437-Daughter to presumption, ii.
341-More untameable than love, 448-The only ruin of Cæsar's
actions, 452-Cæsar's ambition full of mischiefs, 483-A vice of
great men, iii. 302
Ambraciota's suicide, out of impatience to enjoy the life to come,
i. 469
Amendment, the surest proof of a sincere repentance, iii. 13
American king's magnificent garden, iii. 149
Americans, their compliment to Fernando Cortez, i. 242-The ex-
cellency of their policy, 248-The nature of their climate, ib.-
Their buildings and beds, 249-Their diet and pastimes, ib.-
Believe the immortality of the soul, 250-Their priests and pro-
phets, ib.In what sense the savages are barbarians, 253-Their
moderation and cordiality, ib.-Their use of victory, 254-Their
undaunted behaviour when prisoners, 256-Their jealousy of their
wives, 257-Their love-songs, 258-Their language, 259-Virtue
betrayed them to the Spaniards, iii. 150, 151-Their answer to
the offers of the Spaniards, 152-Massacred by the Spaniards,
155-Thought to be richer than they were, 156
Amestris, mother of Xerxes, cruelly pious, ii. 165
Amphitheatres, rich and sumptuous, iii. 144
Amurath sacrificed six hundred young Greeks to the manès of his
father, i. 241
Amyot's translation of Plutarch commended, i. 472—His language
commended, ib.
Anacharsis, his notion of government, i. 352
Anacreon, his death by a grape-stone, i. 76
Anagram of the name of Denisot the poet, i. 366
Anaxagoras, the first philosopher who owned an infinite Creator,



ii. 155
INDEX.
Anaxarchus pounded in a stone mortar, i. 450
Ancient history, how far respectable, i. 128
Ancients, their deeds depreciated by many people, i. 278-Were
good fellows, 444-Used to go open-breasted, ii. 67
Andreosso hanged by his wife, Joan, queen of Naples; the reason,
iii. 116
St. Andrew's cross, ii. 243
Androdus, of Dacia, his grateful treatment by a lion, ii. 97
Andron, the Argian, travelled over the sands of Lybia without
drinking, iii. 381
Anger, its extravagance and impotence, i. 23-Indiscreet anger of
parents, ii. 428-Anger transports men from their judgment, 429
-Is pleased with, and flatters itself, 432-Is incorporated by con-
cealing it, 433-How it ought to be managed in families, 435-
Arms valour, 437
Anguien (M. de) makes two attempts on his own life, i. 460
Animals that live but a day, i. 87
Animals free agents, ii. 72— Taken care of by men, 74-Stronger
than men, 75-Capable of discipline, 77-More temperate than
mankind, 88, 89-Choice in their amours, 88-Their society,
100-Their senses operated differently from those of man, 277
Animosity between Cæsar and Pompey, iii. 291
་
Answer of the duke of Florence's fool, i. 272–Of an American sa-
vage to Montaigne, 259
Anti-Cato's of Cæsar, ii. 449
Antigonus, called by the poet Hermedorus the son of the sun, i.
345-His punishment of the treachery of his enemy's soldiers, ii.
537-His excuse for not giving any thing to a Cynic, iii. 319
Antinöus's advice to the besieged in Passaro to kill themselves,
i. 461
Antiochus stopped in his conquests by a letter from the Roman se-
nate, ii. 394—Corrected his own writings, iii. 223
Antipater's menace of the Lacedæmonians, i. 453
Antisthenes' answer to the question, What was the best thing to
learn? ii. 29-Why he advised the Athenians to employ asses in
agriculture, as well as horses, iii. 185-His opinion of Socrates,
1
· 373
Antonius defeated, i. 212
Ants' conference, ii. 83-Fore-knowledge, 91
Apes, very large, taken by Alexander in the Indies, iii. 101
Apollo appeared in a vision to Aristo, ii. 182, Note
Apollodorus's dream, i. 477
Apology for Raimond de Sebonde, ii. 41 to 286
Appearances, contrary, maintained in all subjects, ii. 260-Of
senses, thought to be false, 262-In human things, 263-Out-
ward, testimonies of internal constitution, iii. 9-Superficial,
carry a great weight in all things, 178
Appetite contemns what it has in possession, ii. 299
Appetites of several sorts, i. 401-Of men, irresolute and fickle,
405-Appetites springing from love the most violent; why, ii.
446-Those residing in the soul, incapable of satiety, 447-Ap-
INDEX.
*
petites rare in old age, iii. 16-Those of the body ought not to be
augmented by the mind, 125
Appion's character, ii. 97, Note
Apple of discord, iii. 297
Apples of Hippomanes, iii. 39
Apprehension, quick, of danger, ii. 27
Approbation, public, under what considerations it ought to be
courted, ii. 320
Arcesiläus, his gold and silver vessels, i. 294-What hastened his
end, 448-His answer to a reproach that his scholars left his
school for that of the Epicurean sect, ii. 21-Gouty, 117-His
answer to a question, If it were possible for a wise man, or a phi-
losopher, to be in love? iii. 129
Archer refusing to try his art to save his life, ii. 348
Archias, tyrant of Thebes, killed by a plot, for delaying to open a
letter, i. 474
Archileonida refuses the praise given to her son, i. 336
Architect, the laconic speech of one to the Athenians, i. 198
Architects' technical language, i. 402
Archytas, his moderation of his passion, ii. 431, 432-His aversion
to perfect solitude, iii. 256
Areopagites ordering the parties to appear again after a hundred
years, iii. 313
Aretine despised by Montaigne, i. 403
Argyraspides, soldiers, punished for having betrayed their general,
ii. 537
Ariosto, not to be compared to Virgil, ii. 6-When born, 120, Note
Aristarchus's opinion of the conceitedness of the world in his time,
iii. 372

:
Aristippus's answer to an argument for loving his children, i. 217-
His opinions in favour of pleasure and riches, ii. 30-His accept-
ance of the perfumed robe from Plato, 254-Why he suffered
Dionysius the tyrant to spit in his face, ib.-His answer to Dio-
genes, who reproached him for not being content to live on cab-
bage, rather than follow the court, ib.-His gain by philosophy,
346-His saying to some youths who blushed at his going to a
bawdy-house, iii. 113-Living as a stranger in all places, 256
Aristo, his notion of God, ii. 157
Aristodemus, king, what determined him to kill himself, iii. 50
Aristophanes' criticism on the style of Epicurus, i. 201
Aristotle's method of instructing Alexander the Great, i. 188-His
definition of rhetoric, 399-His silly compliment on man, ii. 116
-His principles, 143, 199, 238-His opinion about the principle
of natural things, 194-His contempt of slander, 403-His opi-
nion of beauty, iii. 350-Reproached for being too merciful, 357
Arius; nothing to be concluded against him from the nature of his
death, i. 262

Armenia, its mountains, i. 275
Armies of the Turks support themselves cheaply, i. 385-Monstrous
armies of no great effect, ii. 463
Armour of the Parthians, i. 526-Of the French, more burden-
INDEX.
some than defensive, 527-Of the Medes, heavy and uneasy, ib.
-Of the Roman infantry, and their military discipline, 528-
Very heavy, 529
Arms of value inflame the soldier's courage, i. 369-Increase the
enemy's resolution with the hope of rich spoil, 370
Arms, coats of, uncertain, i. 364
Arms, natural, of men, ii. 69
Army expecting an enemy, i. 374
Arras, the obstinacy of its inhabitants, i. 310
Arrêts of parliament, ii. 147
Arria's suicide to encourage her husband's, ii. 469, 470
Arrogancy, a wrangling enemy to discipline, iii. 372
Art inferior to nature, i. 247
Artabanus, his reproof of Xerxes, i. 284
Artaxerxes, how he mollified the rigour of some Persian laws, ii. 35
Artibius, a Persian general, killed by his horse, i. 377
Arts taught men by other animals, ii. 78-The liberal arts despised
by some sects of philosophers, 145
Aruntius Lucius's suicide, i. 464
Assassins think they merit heaven, ii. 424
Asses esteemed happier than kings by king Alphonsus, i. 349
Assyrians, how they managed their war-horses, i. 384
Astapa, in Spain, the rash death of the citizens, i. 468
Astrology, when it had not determined the motion of the moon,
iii. 307
Atalanta, diverted from her way, lost the race, iii. 38, 39
Ataraxy of the Pyrrhonists, ii. 136, 250
Atheism, what it is, ii. 51, 52
Atheists reduced to acknowledge the Divine Power by force or by
reason, ii. 52
Athenians, their folly and injustice, i. 19-What St. Paul thought
of their unknown god, 153
Athens, city of, its antiquity, ii. 242-Its air and situation, 245—
Compared to ladies of pleasure, iii. 69
Atlantis island, i. 243-The people there never dream, iii. 405
Atoms of the Epicureans, what, ii. 202
Attalus made Pausanias drunk, i. 441-His precept against soft
beds, iii. 382
Attention, requisite in young men, i. 176
Atticus Pomponius's death, by resolute abstinence from food, ii. 292
Aufidius's death, i. 76
Augury the most certain way of prediction, ii. 85
Augustin (St.) his account of the transformation of a man into a
horse after his eating cheese, iii. 316, Note
Augustus's revenge on Neptune after a storm, i. 23-His affliction
for the loss of some legions, ib.-Discovery of Cinna's conspiracy
against him, 133, 134-His speech to Cinna, and pardon of him,
135-What he got by that act of clemency, 136-His inconstancy
uncensured by the boldest critics, 430-His obscene epigram, ii.
93-His temples, 179
Aurat ranked among the best Latin poets, ii. 369

INDEX
+
Aurelius Marcus's book, i. 444
Auroy, battle of, i. 281
Austerity of James, king of Naples and Sicily, iii. 33-Of life, af-
fected by some churchmen, 35-Of men's decrees tenders the
propension of women more violent, 79
Authority of the counsels of kings ought to be preserved, and how,
iii. 183
Authors, advice to them, i. 246-Their works, when first burnt by
the common executioner, 522-Fond of their own works, 524,
ii. 327, 328-Modern authors, that are simply pleasant, do merely
entertain, 4
Avarice, the source of it, i. 327-Its power, 438-It has no greater
impediment than itself, iii. 283
Axiochus, a dialogue, strictures on it, ii. 5-Uncertain who was
the author of it, ib.
B.
BABEL, confusion there, ii. 214
Bacchus's name, i. 447
Bajazet's ripping up a soldier, to be certain of his eating what he had
no right to, i. 480, & Note
Balbus's tranquil Fife, iii. 160
Balls, dancers, and tumblers, ii. 8
Banquet of Plato, i. 190.
Barbarian kings' way of binding themselves to each other, ii. 398
Barbarians, in what sense the savages of America are so called, f. 247
Barbarism, what it is taken for, i. 246
Barbarity against men's lives, i. 252
Barbels, ii. 100
Bargaining hated by Montaigne, i. 327.
Barking of dogs, of two sorts, ii. 63
Bashfulness an ornament to young people, ii. 61
Basia, epigrams on kissing, ii. 4
Bathing, ii. 505, 511
Bathory, Sigismund, king of Poland, his clothing, î. 273, 274
Baths used by the ancients before dinner, i. 389-Particularly used
by every nation, ii. 512-And drinking the waters, ib.
Battle at sea gained against the Turks, i. 262-The battle of Dreux,
359-Fought on foot by cavalry, 379
Bayard, captain, of great courage, i. 16, 366
Beasts alter their natural affection, i. 521-Revered for gods, iï. 39
-Entitled to some regard from men, 40-Impart their thoughts
to one another, 63-Free choice and inclination to work, 65–
Have a language of their own, 69-Their subtle way of hunting,
75-Knowledge and prudence in curing their diseases, ib.-Jus-
tice in serving their benefactors, 88-Their inclinations have an
analogy with those of men, ib.-Inclined to avarice, 91-Their
faculty of imagination, 104 Their faculties more perfect than
men's, 277-Naturally solicitous of their own preservation, iii. 346
Beauties masked, why, ii. 300-Beauties of the person, when pre-
VOL. III.
H H
་
INDEX.
ferred to those of the mind, iii. 32-Painted, reckoned among
deformities, 128, 129-Of several sorts, 349, 350, 351
Beautiful persons are fit to command, iii. 350
Beautiful, called good, ib.
Beauty, sought after by women, in defiance of the greatest pain, i.
322-Of the body, what it is, ii. 105-Of the Indians, 106—
Amongst the Mexicans, ib.-Its preference among different na-
tions, ib.-A thing of great recommendation, 333-First advan-
tage that gave pre-eminence to men, 334-Beauty and stature
regarded in the persons of princes and magistrates, ib.-Required
in governors of places, 335-Of stature, the only beauty of men,
ib.-Singular, of Spurina, slashed and disfigured by himself with
wounds and scars, and why, 453, 454-Of the body, what it is,
and how to be esteemed, iii. 350
Beauvais, bishop of, his conduct at the battle of Bouvines, i. 338,
339, & Note
Bebius, a judge, remarkable particular of his death, i. 76
Beccafico, or fig-pecker, a small bird so called, iii. 406, Note
Bedouïns held transmigration and predestination, ii. 321, 422
Beds of the Americans, i. 249-Beds made use of to lie upon at
meals, 390-Soft ones despised, iii. 382
Bees' polity, ii. 64, 65-Battle, 95
Beggars, in shirts, in the depth of winter, i. 272 -
Behaviour, good, the science of, ought to be early inculcated, i.
181-Proceeding from natural inclinations, ii. 323, 324
Being, dear to every thing, ii. 182
Belief should be neither too easy nor too stiff, i. 209-The belief of
patients prepossesses them with the operation of physic, ii. 502
Believers, whether the number of them is a proof that they have
truth on their side, iii. 308, 309
Bell, the tolling of, a signal of war, i. 26
Bellay's memoirs, ii. 19
Bellay, the poet, ii, 363

Belly, well governed, is a great part of liberty, iii. 407
Benefit, reproach of one that is conferred, odious, iii. 230
Bessus, how he discovered a murder he had committed, i. 476
Betis's obstinacy punished by Alexander, i. 5
Beze the Latin poet, ii. 363
Bias's remarkable saying, i. 285-His description of a happy family-
state, iii. 6, 7
Bion, the philosopher, his remarkable saying, i. 22-Was an atheist,
ii. 52-His frank description of his original, iii. 246
Birds, predictions from the flight of them, ii. 85-Their speech and
penetration, 86
Birds of passage, ii. 86
Births and burials interdicted in the precincts of the Isle of Delos,
iii. 105
Bissextile day, iii. 306
Bitches guess which of their litter is the best, ii. 86
Blind men love exercises, ii. 265, 266—A woman that was so, and
did not know it, 397
INDEX.
•
Blindness cured by St. Stephen's shrine, i. 213-Counterfeit, be-
came real, ii. 396-Occasioned by a dream,397
Blood (and even urine) of horses used for nourishment on emergent
occasions, i. 384
Blood of beasts interdicted by Moses, why, ii. 200-The blood of a
he-goat good for preservation of life, 515
Bloody-flux, slighted only as a looseness, iii. 326
Blosius's declaration of friendship, i. 224
Boddice of the ladies, i. 323, & Note
Bodies, when young, ought to be bent, i. 193-Bodies perfumed,
390
Bodinus, a good author, ii. 438
Body, the matter that produces it, ii. 219-Capable of eternal re-
wards, 333-Its qualities, 334, &c.-Its health and vigour the
cause of the sprightliness of the mind, iii. 377, 379, &c.—Its close
connexion with the mind, 55; and with the soul, 348, 349
Boeotians, battle between them and Agesilaus, i. 360-
Boetius, Stephen, his character, ii. 360
Boetius's Voluntary Servitude, i. 178-His friendship for Montaigne
and his writings, 215
Bogez, his suicide, i. 464
Boiocalus's noble answer to the Romans, i. 453
Boldness and courage of the Indians, iii. 149
Boleslaus, king of Poland, betrayed to the duke of Russia, ii. 536.
-His vow of chastity on the wedding night, iii. 72
Boniface the Eighth, pope, his character, i. 429
Bonnes, Bartholomew de, his siege and capture of the castle of
Commercy, i. 27
Book, the best for a young man, i. 180
Book-employment painful, i. 296
Books, immortal children, i. 521-When first burnt by authority,
522-Considerations on, ii. 1 to 20-Proper to translate, 43-
Of a singular esteem amongst great leaders, 455-Books without
learning, walls without stone or brick, iii. 2—Their pleasure and
inconvenience, 35, 36-Written upon love, 75-Less instructive
than conversation, 167-Useful, and good, and yet no credit to
their authors, 191
Boots, of copper, worn in some countries, i. 117
Borromeo, cardinal, his austere way of living, i. 325
Bounty and benefits preferred before valour, iii. 232, 233-Bounty
the more rare, is in proportion the more beautiful and attractive,
234
Bourdeaux, the office of mayor of that city conferred on Montaigne,
iii. 279, 300
Bouvines, the battle of, i. 338, 339, & Note
Bowels of a Lacedæmonian boy torn out by a fox, ii. 439
Bows carrying long arrows, i. 381
Boxing prohibited by Plato, ii. 408
Brachman virgins, iii. 30
Brasilians died of mere old age, ii. 119
Breach of faith has mischievous consequences, ii, 344
HH 2
INDEX.
Bread of the Americans, i. 249-Without salt, iii. 406
Breath, sweet, i. 40, 411
Bretaigné treaty, ii. 389
Brevity, so agreeable to men of understanding, censured, i. 178
Brittany, duke of, pressed to death in a crowd, i. 75
Broth of eringos, or burst-wort, taken to oblige the ladies, iii. 394
Brothels, i. 115
Brother, an affectionate name, i. 218
Brotherly love neglected, i. 218
Brute-creatures' capacity, ii. 64, 65
Brutes subject to the force of imagination, i. 104
Brutus and Cassius, i. 430-Brutus's love of liberty, 430
Bucephalus, Alexander's horse, i. 378
Buchanan, i. 204-Esteemed a first-rate poet, ii. 363
Buffoons, who preserved their jests even till their dying-moments, i.
310-Retained by men of quality to make sport at meals, 392
Buildings of the Americans, 1. 249
Bull, investing Montaigne with the freedom of the city of Rome,
iii. 274, 275
Bunel, Peter, his character, ii. 42
Burial much overvalued by the Athenians, i. 19
Burial of suicides, i. 457
Business, a mark of understanding in some men, iii. 278—The busi-
ness of most part of men is a farce, 287
C.
CALIUS, the orator, in a passion, because he was not contradicted,
ii. 433
Cæsar, Julius, his saying to a decrepid old soldier, i. 84, 85-The
measures he took to gain the love of his enemies, 142-His way
of speaking, 200-Marched generally bare-headed before his
army, 273-Whether his lamentation of Pompey's death was sin-
cere, 281-The reason of his writing his own history, 301-Why
he was called king Nicomede's Sponda, 393-His saying, 404
How he lost his life by his neglect, 474-His Commentaries
commended and criticised, ii. 14, 17-Treated as he deserved,
25, Note-His clemency towards pirates, 33-The sun said to
have mourned for his death, 289-Called thief and drunkard to
his face, 370-His disposal of kingdoms, 393-Was very ambi-
tious, 447, 449, 452-His amours and other pleasures, ib. ib.-
Great character, ib. ib.-Wonderful parts, 449-Sobriety,. ib.-
Called a drunkard, by Cato, 450-Clemency in the time of his
government, 450, 451-His boundless ambition, 452-His art of
war, 455 to 466-How he encouraged his troops, 455-Readily
obeyed by his soldiers, 456-His promptness in his expeditions,
ib.-Called his soldiers fellow soldiers,' 457-His severity to
keep them in awe, ib.-His manner of exhorting his soldiers, 458
-Instances of the rapidity of his progress in his military expedi-
tions, 459-Would inspect every thing himself, ib.-Chose to
conquer rather by wisdom than strength, 460-Was more circum-
INDEX.
spect in his enterprises than Alexander; but oldly faced danger,
when necessity required it, 461-His courage at the siege of
Alexia, 462-Learned to be cautious, 463-Was an expert
swimmer, 464-Beloved by his soldiers, ib.-The intrepidity of
his soldiers, 465-His ambition moderate, but mischievous, 483
-His war with Pompey, iii. 291-Did enjoy corporal pleasures,
418
Cæsar and Pompey good horsemen, i. 378
Cæsar's horse, i. 378
Cabinet of the gods, natural ways of entrance into, ii. 234
Calicut nobility, iii. 65.
Caligula's demolition of a fine palace, because it had been his mo-
ther's prison, i. 23
Calisthenes, how he lost the favour of Alexander, i. 193
Cambyses's dream that made him put his brother to death, iii. 50
Cameleon changes its colour, ii. 85
Canacro's servants hanged for betraying him, ii. 537
Canius's application, in the article of death, to observe the depar-
ture of his soul, i. 482
Cannibals, i. 242, &c.-Marry many wives, 257
Cannon-shot unavoidable, i. 51
Canopy of state allowed but in palaces and taverns, i. 407
Cantharides, or Spanish fly, i. 477
Capacity unfit for the management of public affairs, iii. 262—
Greater in adverse than in prosperous fortune, 199, 284
Capets, the meaning of that term, iii. 265, & Note
Capilupus, a famous composer of centos, i. 165, Note
Capua, the suicide of twenty-eight of its senators, i. 466, 467
Capuchin's continency, i. 276
Caracalla's armour, i. 528
Carillus, how he curbed his passion, ii. 432
Carneades over-studious, i. 189—His visit to Arcesilaus, ii, 117–
His opinions, 143, 144, & Note; 308, 309
Carriage, ridiculous, of a gentleman in his own house, iii. 210
Carthaginians confounded by a panic, i. 66-Their discovery of an
island, 245-Their sacrifice of children to Saturn, ii. 166-In
what case they punished their victorious generals, iii. 182
Carvers retained by men of quality, i. 392

Cassius and Brutus, i. 460
Castalio, the learned, died of want, i. 270
Cat of Montaigne, ii. 61
Catena, the robber, his execution, ii. 35
Cato the Elder, his parsimony, i. 403, 404-Reproached as having
been a hard drinker, 442-Compared with Cato of Utica, ii. 412
-Set about studying Greek too late in life, 413-Preserved his
own health and that of his family without the use of physic,
497, 498'
Cato the Younger, observations concerning his death, i. 278-Pas-
sages out of five poets in praise of him, 279, 280-His tranquillity
just before a popular commotion, 357-His age and suicide, 426
-The virtuous pleasure he felt in slaying himself, ii, 24, 295-

INDEX.
The mutability of his affections for his wife, 299-His virtue pre-
ferable to that of Cato the Censor, 412-His virtue was very vi-
gorous, iii. 261
Catulus Luctatius, why he fled in battle, i. 336
Caunians' banishment of foreign deities, ii. 184
Causes of events in the prescience of God, ii. 421-Fortuitous and
voluntary, ib.
Causey, magnificent, between Quito and Cusco, iii. 157
Cavalry, when they ought to dismount in a battle, i. 379
Cea, island of, description of its customs, i. 452 to 472
Celtiberians' character, i. 435
Centos, a particular species of poetry, i. 165, & Note
Ceremonies troublesome, iii. 27
Ceremony followed by most men, ii. 323
Cestius's scurvy treatment by Cicero for despising his style, ii. 12, 13
Chabrias lost the fruits of a victory, to take care of the dead bodies
of his friends, i. 20
Chaces within the theatre at Rome, iii. 143
Chance, its great dominion over men, i. 436-Has a very great
share in human actions, iii. 183
Change dangerous to governments, ii. 355-Pleasing to men, iii.
200-Gives form to injustice and tyranny, 214, 215
Characters of men in general not easily determined, i. 430
Charinus, his physics, ii. 505
Chariots drawn by four oxen, iii. 137
Charles the Fifth's character of the French officers and soldiers, i.
60—His resignation commended, i. 508
Charles the Eighth, king of France, how he made so hasty a pro-
gress in Italy, i. 160, 161-How he was saved in battle by his
horse, 377, 378
Charles of Bourbon's signal at death, i. 386, Note
Chasan's fury on being reproached for cowardice, i. 434
Chastel, bishop of Soissons, his suicide, i. 470
Chastisement instead of physic to children, ii. 428-The chastise-
ment of offences ought to be performed without anger, iii. 283
Chastisements ought to be deferred till anger be over, ii. 428
Chastity valued in marriage, i. 114-An amiable virtue, 122—
Chastity of the age in which Montaigne's father lived, 444-
Vowed and kept on the wedding-night, iii. 72-How hard it is for
women to preserve theirs, 80-Its duty or obligation hard to
practise, 86-Corrupted by those who are least to be feared, 89
-Extreme, of some women, ib.-Doth principally lie in the
will, 90-Curiosity respecting women's chastity is pernicious, 91
Cheerfulness a sign of wisdom, i. 185
Cheese, the eating of it said to have transformed a man into a horse,
iii. 316, Note
Chelonis, the daughter of one king and wife of another, her gene-
rous temper, iii. 408
Chess, an idle and childish game, i. 397-May help us to know our-
selves, ib.
Chewing accounted unbecoming, iii. 106
INDEX.
Child, a monstrous one, account of, ii. 425.
Child-bearing, the pains of, supported with ease, i. 320
Children, the importance of giving them early correction, i. 112-
Whipped to death, 119-Difficulty of guessing by their first actions
what they will be hereafter, 166-They should not be trained up
by their parents, 172-Ought to mind every thing that passes,
177-Should be instructed early in the science of good behaviour,
181-When they should be instructed in the sciences, 183-How
their breeding may be discovered, 186-Capable of attending
lectures of philosophy, 187-In France, children that are hope-
ful, do not answer, 189-Ought not to be compelled to study by
severity, 191-Spoiled with delicacy, ib.-Ought not to be hu-
moured in any singularity, but to be habituated early to all man-
ner of customs, 192-Their progress must be estimated by their
actions, 195-Ought not to be suddenly awaked from their sleep,
204-Should not be allowed to drink wine, 446-Affection of
parents to them treated at large, 499 to 525-Their affection to
their parents less than that of their parents to them, why, 501-
Should be admitted to a share of their father's substance, 503
Considered as instruments wherewith their parents may grow rich,
506 How they should call their fathers, and the treatment they
should receive from them, 510-Having attained to maturity,
they ought to be admitted to familiarity with their fathers, 511,
514-Affection of mothers to them, 520-Those of the Carthagi-
nians sacrificed to Saturn, ii. 166-Gloriously saved by Theoxena
from king Philip's edict, 409, 410-Abandoned to the care and
government of their fathers, 427-Of the Lacedæmonians, whip-
ped before the altar of Diana, 440-How they ought to be pro-
vided for by their fathers, iii. 203-Affections towards them weak-
ened by their imperfections, 228-Attach men to futurity, 272
-Not much to be coveted, why, 273

China, printing there, iii. 148
Chinese officers for distributing rewards and punishments, iii. 367
Chios, the remarkable chastity of the women there, i. 119
Chiron refused immortality, and why, i. 91
Chirurgeon, his end, or view, iii. 215-The chirurgeons of Greece
performed on scaffolds, 302
Choaspes, river, the water of it the constant beverage of the Per-
sian kings, iii. 235
Cholic as long-lived as men, iii. 395
Christian religion needs no events to authorize it, i. 261
Christianity, true, the mark of it, ii. 46—On what the profession of
it is founded, 51
Christians, who the completest, i. 409–Their zeal full of injustice
and cruelty, ii. 49
Chrysippus's writings, i. 163-His notion of the Deity, ii. 157; of
the seat of the soul, 200-Rebuked by Carneades,. 264-Drunk
in his legs, iii. 415
Church afflicted with troubles, ii. 301
Cicero, his eloquence derided by Cato, i. 198-His ambition, 300
-Why he published his Familiar Epistles, 301-His affectation of
INDEX.
eloquence, 305-Why he made Eros his slave free, ib.-His phi-
losophical works, ii. 10-His letters to Atticus, 11-Censured,
12, 430 Character of him, 12-His poetry, ib.-His eloquence,
ib.-Very ambitious of glory, 308-His opinion of a solitary life,
iii. 255, 256
Cimber, though oft drunk, kept a secret as well as sober Cassius, i.
441-His conspiracy against Cæsar, ib.
Cimbrians' character, i. 435, 436
Cimon's honourable interment of three race-horses, ii. 40, 41
Cinna's conspiracy against Augustus, i. 134, 135-A remarkable
action in the civil war against him, `ii. 544
Circe's draughts, ii. 110
Circumcision, ii. 242, 243-Performed upon women, i. 117
Civility too formal, blameable, i. 54-Its advantages when well re-
gulated, 55
Claudius, emperor, his licence, i. 102-Was a cuckold, iii. 95
Cleanthes, his unsettled opinion of the Deity, ii. 157-His opinion
of the earth's motion, 237-His resolution to die, 293-How
much he got by the labour of his own hands, iii. 285
Cleombrotus, why he threw himself into the sea, i. 469
Cleomenes, his perfidy, i. 28, 29-His answer to the Samian am-
bassadors, 197
Clodomire, king of Aquitaine, his life lost by his obstinate pursuit
of his routed enemy, i. 370-His suicide, 459; ii. 230—Ĥis de-
rision of an harangue upon valour, 430
Climacidæ, Syrian women, their office, ii. 73
Climate of America, description of, i. 248
Clipping of horses, to lead them in triumph, i. 387
Clitomachus upon Carneades, ii. 144, 145, & Nate
Clothes, the custom of wearing them, i. 271 to 275-Were unknown
to many nations, 271, 272-Divers fashions, 273-Changed four
times in the day by a king of Mexico, 275-Those of silk dises-
teemed in France, 353-Those of our ancestors made up of horse-
hairs, to restrain the appetite of love, ii. 446
Clovis, king, a remarkable occurrence that took place while he was
besieging Angoulesme, i. 266-His punishment of a traitor, ik
537
Clowns are the most desirous of amorous performances, ii. 119
Coaches, wonderfully swift, ii. 387-Of what use in battles, iii.
136-Used by the Hungarians against the Turks, ib. Those of
the emperors drawn by several animals, 137-By whores, ib.
Coin, the use of it unknown in the Indies, iii. 156
Collation between meals, i. 391
Colonies of the Romans, ii. 389.
Combats of troop against troop, ii. 391, 404
Comedians touched to the quick in the acting of their parts, iii. 47
Comedies written in Montaigne's time censured, ii. 7
Comines, Philip de, ii. 18
Command, whether better than obedience, i. 346, 347-A difficult
and troublesome employment, iii. 160, 161
Commanding mixed with vexatious thoughts, iii. 201
INDEX.
Commentaries of Cæsar esteemed by Montaigne, ii. 14-Mistakes
that have been discovered in them, 17
Commentators, why so numerous, iii. 363
Commerce with well-bred women, iii. 28-Commerce or acquaint-
ance with books, 32
Commercy, castle of, besieged and captured by the English under
Bartholomew de Bonnes, i. 27
Common-place books, of what use, iii. 347
Commotions, how to be appeased, i. 141
Communication of beasts among themselves, ii. 62~Of men with
beasts, 69, 70
Company of ill men dangerous, i. 286-Accidental, upon. the road,
generally troublesome, iii. 255
Comparisons between God and man ridiculous, ii. 164
Complacency and satisfaction in doing good, iii. 4
Complaint may be indulged in the agony of pain, ii. 489
Complaints ease grief, iii. 46
Complexion, pale, reckoned a beauty, and effected by the women
with great prejudice to their health, i. 322
Compliments, in letters, despised by Montaigne, i. 306
Comportment, disdainful and indifferent, in the toleration of infir-
mities, merely ceremonial, ii. 489
Composers of centos, i. 165
Compositions that smell of oil and the lamp, i. 43
Condemnations, to what end, iii. 165.
Conduct of the females to be left in a great measure to their own
discretion, iii. 113-Of ourselves, the principal charge of every ·
one, 281
Confederacies, what is necessary in, i. 229
Confession should be free and bold, iii. 57—Auricular, 59—Free
and generous, enervates reproach, 246, 247
Confidence that gains the heart, must be fearless, i. 141-Mis-
placed, attended with a happy issue, 142-Of another man's
virtue, 333
Confusion of other states pleasing to the eyes, iii. 333
Conjugal love to be admired, i. 239
Conjunction of the stars, iii. 157
Conrad the Third, his reconciliation to Guelph, i. 2
Conscience, origin of the laws of, i. 120-Observations concerning
it, 475 to 480-Its wonderful power, 475-The advantage of a
good conscience, 477-A bad one terrifies, ib.--Liberty of con-
science, ii. 371, &c.-The advantages of a good conscience, iii. 4
Conscience ties up the tongue, and stops the mouth, 221—A
quiet conscience the gift of God, 294
Consolations, how they ought to be administered, iii. 36-Pre-
scribed by philosophy, 37
Conspiracies, whether they are best prevented by execution of the
plotters, i. 138
Constancy, wherein it consists, i. 50-Of some old men, women,
and children, 241-Constancy in affliction, 289-Constancy and
INDEX.
perfection of virtue, 430-Of a child torn with biting pincers, &e.
450-Its seat, ii. 340-Wonderful constancy of some French
peasants in the civil wars, 441, 442
Constantius, emperor, his stiff gesture, ii. 325
Constitution of several sorts, i. 193
Consular place at table most accessible, i. 474, 475
Consultations of physicians, ii. 503
Contempt of riches, i. 332
Continence enjoined to women for their particular share, iii. 71—
Difficult, or rather impossible, to women, 72
Continency in marriage, i. 238
Contradiction of judgment acceptable in conversation, iii. 169
Convenience, none without inconvenience, ii. 376
Conversation with the world, i. 172, 179-With all men, its utility,
iii. 28 to 33-With beautiful and well-bred women, 28-Of
greater advantage than reading, 167-With men of genius, why
coveted, 175-The better for smart repartees, 190
Copernicus, his system, ii. 238
Cordus fasted himself to death for the fate of his writings, i. 523
Corinth, its senate's justification of Timoleon, ii. 540-Its burgher-
ship offered to Alexander, iii. 279
Corpses of beautiful women kept three days in Egypt before they
were interred, iii. 110, 111
Correction of the male children designated to the fathers, and that of
the females to the mothers, i. 117-Of school-boys censured, 191
-Never ought to be given in anger, ii. 432
Corruption of manners is formed by the particular contribution of
every man, iii. 198
Cortez, Fernando, compliment paid to him by the Americans, i. 242
Cosmography, ii. 238, 240

Cossus's character, i. 440
Cotys, king of Thrace, why he broke a costly vessel, iii. 292
Counsellor, pleasant anecdote of one, iii. 303
Counsels depend upon fortune, i. 376-Counsel's strength consists
in time, iii. 14—Counsels ought not to be judged of by events, ib.
Country, native, what attaches men to theirs, i. 121-Abandoned
for the enjoyment of another air, iii. 243-Country-gentlemen,
in France, their condition, i. 349
Courage, reputation, and glory, as magnificent in the cabinet as the
camp, i. 140-Damped by science, 160-What it is mistaken.
for, ii. 530
Courser accustomed to the war, ii. 104
Court, the practices of, serve as a rule to the French nation, i. 354
Courtesy and manners, i. 54
Courtiers mix with none but men of their own sort, iii. 254
Covetousness, whence it proceeds, i. 327-Ungrateful, iii. 142
Cowardice, how punished, i. 57, 58-Evades the blow of fortune,
456, 457, 459—Is the mother of cruelty, ii. 400, &c.
Cowards naturally cruel and bloody, ii. 400
Cramp-fish's wonderful quality of benumbing, ii. 85
1
INDEX:
Cranaus's method of mixing wine with water, iii. 413
Crassus, how he punished an engineer for not following his direc-
tion, i. 62
Crates's answer to one who asked him how long it was his duty to
philosophize, i. 147-His receipt against love, ii. 127-His affec-
tation of poverty, iii. 209.
Creation of the world, ii. 243
Creatures esteemed by their proper qualities, i. 340
Credulity a mark of simplicity, i. 209
Cremutius, seeing his books burnt, starved himself, i. 528
Cretans, their imprecation against those they hated, i. 120-Re-
duced to drink the urine of horses, 385
Criminals dissected alive by surgeons, ii. 390-Condemned to exe-
cute themselves, 538, 539-Most cruel treatment of them, iii. 46
—Left to choose in what manner they would be put to death, 252
Crinas, of Marseilles, his physics, ii. 505
Cripples, an old proverb about them, iii. 317
Crocodile and wren, ii. 101
Croesus's barbarity, ii. 411, 412
Cross adored for the god of rain, ii. 243
Crossicius's wife turned into a man, i. 95

Crucifixes, ii. 154
Cruel men naturally cowards, ii. 400
Cruelties to children at colleges, i. 191-Horrid examples of, 242,
251-In domestic wars, whence they proceed, ii. 408—Of ty-
rants, ib. 410
Cruelty, chapter of, ii. 20, &c.-The extreme of all vices, 32-In-
stances of extreme cruelty, 36-An indication of it, 224-Has
its origin in cowardice, 400
Crying of infants, common with most other animals, ii. 68
Cryllus, his valiant death, iii. 42
Ctesiphon's folly in attempting to kick with his mule, iii. 393
Cuckolding by the heathen gods, ii. 182
Cuckoldom, not frightful to many people, i. 326
Cuckoldry, the reproach of it silenced, ii. 341-Among the an-
cients, iii. 84—A character indelible, 92-Frequent, but not to
be divulged, 93-Of the emperor Claudius, by his wife Messa-
lina, 95
Cuckolds pitied, not disesteemed for it, iii. 92
Cup-bearers formerly retained by men of quality, i. 392
Curiosity, with which youth ought to be inspired, i. 177-Greedy
for news, 473-Natural and original evil in a man, ii. 129—Curi-
osity of knowing, a scourge to men, 327--Pernicious to women,
iii. 91-Increased by philosophical inquisitions, 369
Curtains of the amphitheatre, of purple and needle-work, iii. 146
Custom, its force, i. 109, 120-Stupifies our senses, 110-Divers
customs of several nations, respecting marriage, &c. 113 to 120
-Is the foundation of many things much authorized in the world,
123-Its fantasticalness in dress, 124-The custom of wearing
clothes, 271-Of gentlemen vicious and unmanly, 526-Benumbs
our senses to the sufferance of evils, iii. 232-A second nature,
1
INDEX.
285-Powerful over man's life, 379–Of different countries con-
trary, ib.
Customs, ancient, view of, i. 388 to 394
Cuttle-fish, how it angles for the small fry, ii. 75
Cyneas, his attempt to check the ambition of Pyrrħus, i. 352
Cynic philosophers, an impudent sect, ii. 259
Cyppus, how he became a cuckold, i. 95
Cyrus, his reverence for religion, i. 17-Lashed at school, and for
what, 158-Was a great master of horsemanship, 384-Valued
himself on his being able to drink more than his brother, 442-
His bounty reproached, but proposed as a lesson to other kings,
iii. 142-His precaution against the charms of his fair prisoner
Panthea, 294
DEMON of Socrates, i. 49, 50
D.
Damascus, gardens of, untouched by the soldiers of Selim, iii. 329
Damindas's gallant answer to one who threatened the Lacedæmo-
nians with Philip's power, i. 452
Dancing practised by Epaminondas, iii. 420
Dandamys, an Indian sage, his censure of the lives of Socrates,
Pythagoras, and Diogenes, ii. 533, 534
Dangers, common, fright none but mean hearts, iii. 402, 403
Darius's proposal to the Greeks and Indians, i. 121
Dashing wine, a Roman custom, i. 394
Daughters, the fault of their education, iii. 73-Naturally inclined
to the passion of love, 73, 74
David, king, his Psalms, inspired by the Holy Ghost, i. 417
Day of death determines all the foregoing years, i. 68-Day of
judgment, ii.
Dead men treated as being alive, i. 14-Dead bodies boiled,
pounded, and drank with wine, 116
Deaf-born, why dumb, ii. 70

Death, sudden, caused by grief, i. 8-Discharges men of all obli-
gations, 31-No man's happiness to be judged of before his death,
66—Deaths of celebrated personages, 67-The day of death the
only criterion to judge past years by, 68-Instances, 69-The
study of philosophy a preparation for death, 70-Contempt of
death, 72-Unavoidable, 73-The end of our race, ib.-A harsh
word to the Romans, 74-Hath many ways to surprise men, 75″
-Remembrance of, profitable to men, 77, 79-The best, 78-
Image of, presented by the Egyptians to the company after their
feasts, 78, 83-Arguments against the fear of, 86-Part of the
constitution of the universe, 87-Cannot concern us either living
or dead,, 90-Appears less dreadful in the field of battle than in
aur houses, 92-Preferred to a continual trouble, 143, 144—
What it is; several opinions concerning the same, 309-Pre-
wanted or hastened, ib.-Shameful, endured with great courage,
and even pleasantry, instances, 310-Fondly coveted, 311-
Constantly looked in the face, is voluntarily sought after, 314-

;
•
INDEX.
1
Frightful to some people, bantered by others, 315-How felt,
316-Preferred to slavery and a wretched life, 452, 461, 464–
A recipe for all evils, 453-Its certainty, ib.-Depends upon the
will, 454-Voluntary, judged best by some of the philosophers,
but forbidden by God, 455-Sought after in extremity, 462-
Desired out of hope of a greater good, 469-Voluntary, regu-
lated by governments, 470-Courageous, of a lady, 471-How
it may be tried what it is, 482-Its agonies, whether painful, 486
-Ought to hold proportion with the life before it, ii. 26-Its
horror dispelled by the promises of everlasting happiness, 50-
The last remedy for trouble, 126, 127-What it is, 172, 173-
-Miserable, a sign of it, 224-Given for a reward, 248—Of
another, how to judge of it, 287-Considered as a very great
thing, 288-How felt, 290, 291-Voluntary, and effeminate, 290,
293, 294-Wished for, 295-Useful, laudable, though not at-
tainable, 383-Denounced by officers to persons of quality con-
demned by the Roman emperors, 471, 472-Generally and par-
ticularly considered, iii. 40, 41-Familiarized by Socrates, 40
Not much thought of in a battle or duel, 41-How diverted from
men's thoughts, 42-Preferred to banishment by Socrates, 236
-Quiet and solitary, preferred, 243-Of several forms and qua-
lities, 251, 252-The manner of, left to the choice of criminals,
ib.-Whether it ought to be prepared for, 340-Contagious, not
the worst sort, 336-Ought not to be premeditated, 341, 342-
The most happy, which, ib.-A thing to be desired, and not to
be dreaded, 344-Is more glorious in a battle than in a bed, 403
Deaths, rash, fatal, i. 460
Deceit and cunning in war hated by the Achaians, i. 25-Allowed
in war, 26-Ought to be corrected in the greenest years, 111, 112
Decii, both the father and the son, ii. 166
Decorum, external, requisite in youth, i. 190, 191
Decrepitude of the world, iii. 148-A solitary quality, 248
Defeats, some more meritorious than victories, i. 255
Defence, obstinate, of a place, punished, i. 55
Deformity, ii. 106-Clothing a beautiful soul, iii. 349
Deifications, and their juggling, ii. 158, 178
Deliberation very troublesome to Montaigne, ii. 340—Requisite be-
fore engaging in affairs, iii. 297
Delos fixed for Latona's lying-in, ii. 102, 103
Deluges have caused great alterations in the habitable world, i. 243
Demades's sentence upon an undertaker of funerals, i. 108
Demerit ought not to be pronounced upon a man because of ill suc-
cess, i. 262
Demetrius's heavy armour, i. 530
Democracy, i. 19, 121
Democrates would not stop at the fourth glass, iii. 413
Democritus's laughing countenance, i. 397-His extravagant pre-
face to one of his books, ii. 115, 116-Met death, 127-His
fondness for inquiring into natural philosophy, 149-His wild opi-
nion of the Deity, 155-Said to have put out his own eyes, 274
Demosthenes, the general, his suicide, ii. 291
9
INDEX.
Denisot, the poet, the anagram of his name, i. 366
Dependence upon princes, i. 176
Dependency, its disagreeable effects, iii. 225
Deserters punished with death by the Romans, i. 57, 58
Desire of gathering riches has no limits, i. 329-Impetuous, throws
the mind into disorder, iii. 284
Desires of man, their inconstancy, ii. 246-Augmented by the dif-
ficulty of obtaining them, 297-Grow young again, 413-Ought
to be mortified by age, 415-Ought to be circumscribed, iii. 287
Destiny, ii. 169, 177
Destriers, horses of service so called, i, 376
Devotion mixed with an execrable life, i. 416-Of the heathens,
420-Full of passions, ii. 49-Easy to counterfeit, iii. 12-Why
so fervent in those who are going to die on a scaffold, 40-With-
out conscience, does not satisfy the gods, 352
Dexterity of riders on horseback, i. 387, 388-Of a man throwing
a grain of millet through the eye of a needle, 407
Diagoras's saying to those who showed him the pictures of some
who had escaped a shipwreck, i. 48, 49
Diagoras, the atheist, ii. 157
Dialogues of Plato, ii. 11
Dicæarchus's opinion of the soul, ii. 198
Difference between man and man, i. 339
Difficulty gives all things their estimation, ii. 297, &c.
Dignities often distributed by fortune, iii. 181-Conferred upon an-
cient men, 287
Dinner despised among the ancients, iii. 413-Judged more whole-
some than suppers, ib.
Dioclesian's retirement to a private life, i. 351
Diodorus, the logician, his sudden death, i. 11
Diogenes, his opinion concerning men, i. 152; and see the note,
398-Why he studied philosophy, 194-How he behaved in the
want of money, 226-Was a more cruel judge than Timon, 398
-His churlish answer to Speusippus's good-morrow, 455-His
churlish answer to his kindred who would have redeemed him from
slavery, ii. 74-His impudence, 259-His affected contempt of
glory, 306-What sort of wine he liked best, iii. 205-Patient of
cold, 292
Diomedes mistaken for Dydimus, iii. 197 & Note
Diomedon, when condemned, prayed for his judges, i. 19
Dion, his unfair character of Seneca, ii. 438
Dionysius the tyrant, his barbarity, i. 3, see the note to page 152
-How he discovered conspiracies against him, 143, 331—His
poetry, ii. 328-His flatterers, iii. 164
Dioscorides, the inhabitants of that island Christians, i. 420
Discipline, military, of the Roman infantry, i. 528, 529
Discord, apple of, iii. 297
Discourse, pleasant and witty, i. 229, 230
Discourses of great men clouded with gravity, iii. 185-Dogmatical,
prove their weakness, 314
Discoursing, the art of, iii. 165 to 197
INDEX.
Disease of the mind, i. 288, 289
Diseases of the mind and body cured with pain and grief, i. 240-
For which a man may destroy himself, 460-Caused by imagina-
tion, ii. 117, 118-Which the most painful, 489-Other causes
of them, 504, 507—Of all sorts, cured by words and gestures, iii.
310-Have their courses and limits, 390-All mortal and dan-
gerous, 395-Medicinal and wholesome, ib.-More grievous in
their issue than in their operation, 398-Cannot be judged of by
the urine, 400
Dishes of meat served up according to the order of the alphabet, i.
361
Dismounting of cavalry in battle, i. 379
Disorders of the mind, how cured, iii. 39
Disputation, what makes it valuable, iii. 174
Disputes, the bad consequence of those that are ill conducted, iii.
171-Should be punished as verbal crimes, 172-Endless, for
most part about words, 364
Dissimulation mortally hated by Montaigne, ii. 344
Distempers contracted by mere imagination, i. 104
Diversion should be allowed to youth, i. 190-Observations on, iii.
36 to 50-Usefully administered by way of comfort, 36-Prac-
tised with success in war, 37, 38-Of the mind, a good method
to cure its disorders, 39-Practised against revenge, 43; and
love, ib.-A way of dissipating common reports, 45-Diversion
of grief, 48


Diversions, military, iii. 37, 38
Divination, strange origin of the art of, i. 47—Of things to come,
from dreams, iii. 405
Divine and philosopher, whether it be consistent that they should
write history, i. 106
Divine Being, known by his visible works, ii. 53-His care of human
affairs denied by the Epicureans, 234-The natural way of ap-
proaching him, 235
Diviners punished when found false, i. 251
Divinity and philosophy dictate in every thing, i. 237—Queen and
regent, 421-Imprinted on the fabric of the world, ii. 53-Too
curious an inquiry into it censured, 130-What, according to the
ancient philosophers, 155-Absurdly attributed to virtues and
vices, 159
Divisions in France, iii. 265
Divorces considered, ii. 302
Dog of Xanthippus buried, ii. 41-That animal revered as a king
by some nations, 62-One, that feigned itself dead, 77-Another,
that got oil out of a jar, 80-Instance of an Indian dog's magna-
nimity, 102
-
Dogs, their different manners of barking, ii. 63-Motions in finding
out the ways, 76-Capable of reason,. ib.-Leading blind men,
77-Trained to fight in armies, 82-More faithful than men, 88,
96-Revenging the death of their masters, ib.-Discovery of a
thief, ib.-Dream, 105-Draw the coach of Heliogabalus, iii.
137
INDEX.
Dogmatists, their profession, ii. 142
Doing and saying should go together, ii. 429
Domestic affairs very troublesome, iii. 203
Domestics, anger towards them, rules for, ii. 435
Dominion begets contempt, ii. 325
Domitius's cowardice, ii. 291
Double-dealers, how far useful, ii. 530
Doublets, the belly-pieces of, as high as the breast, i. 388
Doubt better than assurance in things hard to be proved, iii. 315
Dowry, great, ruin of families, i. 516
Dragon in love with a maid, ii. 90
Dream of Apollodorus, i. 477
Dreams full of agitations, iii. 405-True interpreters of inclina-
tions, ib.
Dress, fantastical customs observed in, i. 12
Dreux, battle of, i. 359
Drink of the Americans, i. 249
Drinking, a debauch in use amongst the best governed nations, i.
442, &c.-The last pleasure a man can enjoy, 446-A gentleman
a whole year without it, iii. 381-How far allowed, 413
Drugs, fragrant, mixed for sauces, i. 413-Mysterious in their
choice and application, ii. 503-On what foundation the physi-
cians pretend to know their virtue, 518-Drugs and poisons the
worst sort of homicides, iii. 314
Drunkenness, general reflections on, i. 438 to 452—Is a great and
brutish vice, 439-Carried to a high and dead degree, 441-
Amongst the ancients, 442, &c.-A vice less malicious and hurt-
ful than others, 443-Recommended once a month, ib.-Indulged
to the slaves by Lycurgus, to make the people more in love
with temperance, ii. 390
Drusus's answer to an architect who offered to contrive his house so
that it should not be overlooked, iii. 7
Duels common in the kingdom of Narsingua, ii. 402-Considered,
402, &c.
Duras, Madam de, Montaigne's letter to her, ii. 520, &c.
Dwarfs at the tables of princes, ii. 244
Dydimus, author of several tracts on grammar, iii. 197; and see
the note
Dying, resolution of, how it ought to be digested, i. 83-In the
nick of time, 266-With a voluntary resolution, 309-Of old-age
very rare, 426-Through fear of death, 457-Dying persons?
eyes closed by their nearest relations, iii. 252
E.
EARS, the longest, reckoned the most beautiful, ii. 106-Danger-
ous organs, 273-Their passage stopped, 278-Hairy, of some
animals, ib.
Earth, vast difference between the distant parts of it, ii. 17F
Eating, natural, and without instruction, ii. 68—A sight hateful to
some nations, iii. 106-Eating-schools at Rome, 416
INDEX.
Edict of January, 1562, famous by the civil wars,`i. 216
Education of children, the subject treated at large, i. 161 to 208—
Is the greatest difficulty of human science, 166-Of Montaigne,
203, 204, 205–Violence in it condemned, 505-Its end, ii. 361
Edward the First, king of England; why he required his son to carry
his bones to fight the Scots, i. 15
Edward the Third, king of England, why he would not send suc-
cours to his son at the battle of Cressy, i. 337-His saying of
Charles the Fifth, 382-His politics, 389
Edward the Black Prince, his rage against the Limosins, how ap-
peased, i, 1
Effects, strange, produced by imagination, i. 96-The same, pro-
duced by two opposite causes, 407.
Eggs distinguished one from another, iii. 358
Egypt, the oath of its judges, ii. 535.
Egyptians' skulls, why harder than those of the Persians, i. 273.
Their vain sacrifice, ii. 35, 36-Regard to beasts, 40—Their im-
pudent precaution about their gods, 159
Election of two indifferent things, whence it proceeds, ii. 296—Re-
ferred to fortune and chance, 353
Elephant, discovering the cheat of his keeper, ii. 80-Rival to-Aris-
tophanes, 89-One given as the price of a woman's prostitution,
iii. 91
Elephants taught to dance to music, ii. 79-Their subtlety and pe-
netration, 80-Constituted the greatest force of the armies in the
East, 81-Whether they have any sentiments of religion? consi-
dered, 83-Instance of the repentance of an elephant, 102
Eloquence of the Athenians, Lacedæmonians, and Cretans, i. 202-
Its effects, and when it flourished most at Rome, 400-Of Ci-
cero, ii. 12-True, what constitutes it, iii. 97
Emanuel, king of Portugal, his cruel edict against the Jews, i. 312
Embraces of the Cynics in public, ii. 259
Emonez, a girl of Chios, her question to the philosopher Arcesiläus,

iii. 129
Emotions animate preachers towards belief, ii. 233
Emperor, in what posture he should die, ii. 381
Emperors obnoxious to passions, i. 343-Roman, their excessive
prodigality, iii. 143, &c.
Empire of Constantinople, by whom founded, i. 266-Roman, its
divers forms, iii. 217, 218
Employment, the most painful, iii. 161-The most pleasant to every
one, 210-Does not corrupt an honest man, 287, 288
Employments for a sedentary life, i. 294-For a retired life, 295
Empyrics, i. 454
Enchantments and visions, why so much credited, i. 96
Enemy, vanquished, whether to be pursued to extremity, i. 369-
Whether he should be insulted by the victorious soldiers, 371-
Whether best to fall upon an enemy at once, or wait for an attack,
373-Whether a prince had better tarry for his enemy's approach,
or go and attack him in his own dominions, 374
VOL. III.
I 1
INDEX.
!
Engines made by Archimedes, i. 147-Those of Dionysius's inven-
tion, 382
Enjoyment is not a sufficient testimony of a woman's affection, iii.
111
Enjoyments are not alike, iii. 111
Enmity suppressed by pity, i. 2
Enquiry, office of, projected, i. 269
Ensign, one remarkably fearful, i. 63
Entelechia, ii. 199
Enterprizes, military, much under the control of fortune, i. 137
Enthusiasm sometimes transports a man beyond himself, i. 451
Epaminondas, his noble defence against an accusation by the The-
bans, i. 3-Glorious verse in his praise, 367-His fondness for
his two famous victories, 525-Esteemed the most excellent of
three great men, ii. 483-Had in great honour among the Greeks,
484-His knowledge; his manners, ib.-His consummate and
uniform virtue, ib.-His obstinate poverty, ib.-His humanity,
485—Placed in the first rank of excellent men, 542-His deli-
cacy in the article of justice, ib.-His humanity, ib.-His great
virtues, 543-His custom of sacrificing to the Muses when he
went to war, ib.-His magnanimity, 544-His cheerful death,
iii. 42-Delighted in dancing, singing, and similar recreations, 420
Ephori, one of them cut the two strings of Phrynis's music, i. 125
Epicharis's death on the rack, ii. 441
Epicurean sect, ii. 21, 234
.
Epicurus, his writings free from quotations, i. 163-He and Seneca
set in opposition to Pliny and Cicero, 304-Which he would have
preferred, his books or children, 524-His life different from his
doctrines, ii. 30-His insensibility, 122-His gods, 157-His
atoms, 202-Was fond of glory, 307-His letter to Hermachus,
ib.-How little he lived upon, iii. 285-Why he fasted, 411
Epigram of the emperor Augustus, ii. 93
Epirotes flead alive, ii. 411
Epistles, familiar, of Cicero and Pliny, why published, i. 301
Epistolary style of Montaigne, i. 305
Epitomizing of books, a foolish undertaking without honour to the
undertaker, iii. 191
Equality of manners, i. 432-Should be maintained amongst men
in their intercourse with one another, iii. 24
Equity, remarks on, ii. 429
Erasmus, a remarkable passage in his book called Lingua, i. 41,
Note-Full of adages and apophthegms, iii. 9
Eringo broth taken by Montaigne to oblige the ladies, iii. 394
Eros, a slave of Cicero, enfranchised by him, i. 305
Error and superstition, daughters of pride, ii. 129
Errors of opinions, i. 409
Escalin, Anthony, not so much known by that name, i. 366 & Note
-His extraordinary rise, ib.
Essays of Montaigne, their language, i. 303-Their tendency, iii.
377
9
INDEX.
Essenians, how they lived without the use of women, iii. 105
Estates, the names of, assumed, in France, by the proprietors, i
363-The wisest distribution of them before death, 516, 517
Esteem not due to bad princes, i. 13-Of the people to be courted,
ii. 320—Vulgar and common, seldom hits right, iii. 223
Estimation not due to little performances, iii. 303
Estissac, Madam de, letter to her from Montaigne, concerning the
affection of parents to their children, i. 499 to 525-Her love to
her children, 500
Eternal, what it is, ii. 282, 283-
Eternity of God, ii. 283
Eudamidas, his saying to a philosopher, talking of war, ii. 430
Eudoxus's earnest wish to be close to the sun, ii. 150
Eumenes, his notable answer to Antigonus, i. 26, 27-Betrayed by
his own soldiers, ii. 537
Events, different, from the same counsel, i. 132, &c.—In war, for
the most part, depend upon fortune, 375-Of particular assigna-
tion attributed to God, ii. 177-Succeeding contrary to opinions,
iii. 14-Poor testimony of men's worth and parts, 184-Often
effects of good fortune, ib.
Evil, what it is, how it concerns men, i. 308-The oldest, the most
supportable, iii. 216
Evils, how they ought to be endured, iii. 388, 389-Have their pe-
riods limited, 390-Mixed with good in life, 392
Examples strange and scholastic, iii. 381, 382
Excellent men and women, ii. 466 to 486.
Excess, sometimes allowable, i. 193-Even in lawful pleasures, to
be condemned, 240
I
Excuses and satisfactions scandalous, iii. 299
Executioner outlived by the person whom he had executed, i. 460
Executions, exceeding simple death, perfect cruelty, ii. 34—Whet
the edge of vices, 302
Exercise, fit for youth, i. 190, 191-Wherein men are to proceed to
the utmost limits of pleasure, 297-Of riding recommended, 378
-Makes things familiar, 481
Exhortation to soldiers before a battle of great importance, ii. 458
Expenses, how regulated by Montaigne, i. 331-Excessive, of
princes, a testimony of pusillanimity, iii. 137-How they might
be profitably laid out, 138-Of the Roman emperors at the public
spectacles, ill-judged, 143—How domestic expenses ought to be
managed, 210, 211
Experience, guided by chance, not to be credited, ii. 507-Consi-
derations on, iii. 357 to 431—Not a sure means to inform us of
the truth of things, 358—Of every man sufficient to make him
wise, 370-Rules reason in the art of physic, 377
Extremes, hurtful to virtue, i. 235-Things kept up by, 407
Eye, real, lost, by counterfeiting the loss of one, ii. 395, 396
Eyes of a philosopher put out by him, because they should not cor-
rupt his mind, ii. 274-Of animals, of divers colours, and their ef-
fects, 277-Of dying persons closed by their nearest relations, iii.
244—Beautiful, menacing a dangerous and malignant nature, 351
11 2
INDEX.
F.
FACES, some happy, some unhappy, iii. 351-Of men, like or un-
like, 365
Facility of people in suffering themselves to be imposed upon by the
leaders of a party, iii. 290
Facts, writers merely of, how far estimable, ii. 15
Faggot-maker thought to have a genius for the mathematics, ii. 351,
352
Failings, the reasons all men have to bear with one another, iii. 168,
177, &c.
Fainting, i. 484, 485-Not very dreadful, iii. 404
Faintness from frigidity, i. 408
Faith of military men very uncertain, i. 28-Wherein faith differs
from human reason, &c. ii. 44-Its powerful operation, 45-Is
the pure gift of God, 132-Breach of, odious, 344-Pledged,
should never give way to private advantage, 541
Falling-sickness corrected by Cæsar, iii. 385
Fame bought at a great rate, iii. 303
Familiarity between parents and children, i. 511, 514-Necessary
to be observed towards every body, iii. 23-With whom it should
be sought, 28
Families of obscure extraction, the most proper for falsification, i.
363, 364-Ruined by a large jointure, 516
Family, excellent state of, according to Bias, iii. 6. 7-The govern-
ment of, troublesome, and little understood by Montaigne, 201,
202-The most useful accomplishment in a mother of a family, 238
Fancy, frivolous and extravagant, suitable to human wit, iii. 168
Farewells, affections in, iii. 60
Fashion, of clothes, why to be followed by men of sense, i. 124-
Of some nations, of going naked, 271-Ŏf the French court, rules
the whole kingdom, 354-Fatal to youth, 355—Inconstancy of,
389
Fashions of foreigners abominated, iii. 253
Fasting of Epicurus, to what end, iii. 411
Father, ought to be called so by his children, i. 510
Fathers, not concerned at the death of their children, i. 324-Ought
to admit their children to a share of their substance, 503-Ought
not to hoard up their money under the idea of gaining the affec-
tions of their children, 504-How they may gain the love and
respect of their children, ib. & 506-Ought to maintain and ad-
vance their children, 507-Ought to make themselves familiar
with their children, when they are capable of it, 511, 514-
Hard-heartedness of, 516
Fatua, Faunus's wife, would see no man after marriage, iii. 89
Faults of great men should rather be concealed than those of little
ones, i. 848

Faustina's medals, ii. 178
Favorinus, why he suffered himself to be foiled in a grammatical
dispute by the emperor Adrian, iii. 164, 165
Favour of princes, by whom despised, iii. 295
INDEX.
Fear, its strange effects, i. 63-Is the strongest of all passions, ib.
-Of an ensign, and another gentleman, ib.-Opposite effects
produced by it, 64-Adds wings to the heels, ib.—Sometimes
fetters men, ib-Sometimes acts as an incentive to valour, ib.-
Supersedes all other passions, 65-Is more insupportable than
death itself, ib.-Of a fall, more insupportable than the fall itself,
ii. 340-Whence fear upon the waters proceeds, iii. 133
Feast of the king of Tunis, i. 413
Features, elegant, scarified for the sake of continency, ii. 453
Feeding upon human flesh, i. 118.
Feet performing the service of hands, i. 112
Felicity of men's lives depends upon the tranquillity of their spirits,
i. 68-Human felicity, according to Montaigne's opinion, iii. 17
Fencers, ii. 407
Fencing-art useful to its ends, ii. 405-Injurious to valour, 406-
Contrary to the manner of fighting in battle, 407
Fez, king of, his victory in sickness, ii. 384
Fidelity in love, Montaigne's, iii. 121
Fighting on horseback, the inconvenience of, i. 379
Fire sent for a new-year's gift, i. 116
Fires made on the outside, and at the foot of the houses among the
Romans, iii. 380
Firmness of a prince riding a rough horse, i. 388.
Fish kept in pools in their rooms by the ancients, i. 392-Its, pre-
eminence over flesh, ib.-Account of a fish that chews, ii. 100—
A food easy of digestion, ii. 411
Flatterers scorned, . 344-Corrupt kings, iii. 376
Flavius's constancy at his execution, iii. 41
Flight, in war, granted by several nations, i. 51-Without-affright
and astonishment, iii. 134-Necessary, from evils that men can-
not stand against, 293, 294
Flights, poetic, under the control of fortune, i. 137
Floods, strange alterations caused by, i. 243
Flora, the famous courtezan, her amour with Pompey, ii. 298-Her
other amours, iii. 31
Florentines proclaimed war by the tolling of a bell, i. 26
Foix, count de, how he gained early intelligence of any important
transactions, i 212
Foix, lady Diana de, Montaigne's address to her on the education
of children, i. 161 to 208
Foix, counts de, their writings, i. 167
Follies of others, not tolerated by the great, iii. 176
Folly, what it is, i. 451-For a man to venture what he has, in
hopes of increasing it, ii. 341-Not to be cured by admonition,
iii. 189
Fondness and pernicious education by mothers, i. 172
Fool of the duke of Florence, his wise answer to his master, i. 272,
273-In what a fool is most disgusting, iii. 189
Foolish discourse, what gives weight to it, iii. 178
Fools never content, i. 12

Footstool, the office of one performed by the Syrian women, ii, 73
INDEX.
Force cannot effect what reason and prudence can do, i. 505
Foresight of good and ill, iii. 134
Forgetting, not in our power, ii. 123, &c.
Form of man's being, depends upon the climate and soil, ii. 245
Formula of faith established by the ancients, i. 419
Fornication, according to Arcesiläus, ii. 256
Fortitude, what it is, i. 51; ii. 131-Of a Spanish peasant, 441
Fortune, has a great share in many arts, i. 137-Is oftentimes ra-
tional, 265, &c.-Its inconstancy, ib.-Sometimes seems to play
upon men, 266-Emulates the miracles of men, ib.-Sometimes
plays the physician, 267-Does what art cannot do, ib.-Directs
the counsels of men, ib.-Surpasses the rules of common pru-
dence, 269-Its benefits, how they ought to be relished, 345-
Favours the executions of the most simple men, iii. 182
Foundation of Notre Dame la grande de Poitiers, i. 362
Foxes judging of the thickness of the ice by the faculty of hearing,
ii. 72

France, Antarctic, i. 243
Francis, marquis de Saluzzo, his treachery to the king of France,
i. 45
Francis, duke of Brittany, what learning he thought enough for a
wife, i. 155
Francis the First, king of France, caught an ambassador in a lie,
i. 39-Why he chose to wait for Charles the Fifth, to attack him
in his own dominions, 374-Brought learning into esteem, ii. 41
Francisco Taverna, nonplussed by king Francis, i. 39
Francs, whence they came, ii. 389
Franget, Mons. de, governor, punished for cowardice, i. 58
French gentlemen's incredible bravery, i. 1, 2-Wisdom, anciently-
proverbial, but of no continuance, 189-Manners and customs,
388-Very changeable in their fashions, ib.-Held valour as the
chief virtue, 498-Accoutrements for war, ancient and modern,
527-Language, ii. 332-Manners corrupted, 355—Their indis-
cretion in foreign countries, 404, 405-Scribblers and language,
iii. 98, 99--Gentlemen have small legs, 318-Armies abound
with foreigners, 327-Soldiers, when without order and disci
pline, 328-Laws, 368
Frenchmen, what the American savages thought of them, i. 258–
Compared to monkeys, ii. 342
Friars of Florence who would submit their different opinions to a
fiery trial, ii. 422.
Friend, how useful and necessary, iii. 247
Friends, all things common among them, i. 225-More faithful than
mercenary men, iii. 143-Taking leave one of another unplea-
sant, 243
Friendship, the subject treated at large, i. 215 to 233-Is the most
perfect benefit of society, 217-Of several kinds, ib.-Incompa-
tible with some connections, ib.-Begot by voluntary liberty, 218
Against nature, 220--Its true character, 222-True and per-
fect, 223-Common and ordinary, 225-Allows community of
goods, ib.-Rare example of, 226-Perfect friendship admits no
INDEX.
division, 227-Dissolves all other obligations, 228-Private, con-
temned for the public good, ii. 544-One, single and perfect, pre-
ferred before all others, iii. 23-Scarce, between husbands and
wives, 68, 69 That flatters itself, 169-Civilized and artificial,
170-Purely of our own acquiring ought to be preferred before
all others, 235—Conjugal, grows warm by absence, 238-Its
true aim, 241-True and false, 281-Sound and regular, ib.-
Singular, 375
Friendships are scarce, i. 228
Froissart, his story of the count de Foix's familiar spirit censured,
i. 212-His character, ii. 15
Frosts, sharp, at the mouth of the lake Mæotis, i. 274
Frugality of the kings of France, iii. 138
Fruition and possession principally appertain to the imagination,
iii. 239
Fruits eaten after dinner, i. 391
Fruit-trees buried in the winter, i. 275
Fulk, count of Anjou, his journey to Jerusalem, to be lashed, i. 324
Fulvius, his wife's decent death, i. 466-His inhumanity, 467
Funerals, not to be too magnificent, nor too mean, i. 18-An un-
dertaker of, condemned by Demades, 108-Of the Scythian
kings, ii. 74
Fury and sleep, two ways to enter into the cabinet of the gods, ii.
235
Futurity, mankind too curious after it, i. 11, 12
G.
GAIETY of reflection necessary in old age, iii. 50
Galba, a saying of that emperor, misplaced to another's account,
iii. 198
Galba, another of that name, who dissembled sleeping, to favour
Mecænas's amour with his wife, iii. 90-His amours, 128, 129
Gallio, why recalled to Rome from exile, i. 240
Gallus Vibius, how he became a madman, i. 94
Games of divers sorts, ii. 244-Of chance, why left off by Mon-
taigne, iii. 292
Gaming, the conduct required in it, iii. 284
Garden, magnificent, of the king of Mexico, iii. 149
-
Gascons, their remarkable horses, i. 383-Generally addicted to
stealing, 504-Their language, ii. 332-Noted for obstinacy, 442
Gauls held missile arms in abomination, i. 382-Never permitted
their sons to present themselves before them, till they came to
bear arms, 515, 516-Slenderly clad, ii. 67
Geese nourished with public care, ii. 40
Generals, changing their habit upon the point of an engagement, i.
372-Richly clothed in a battle, ib. Obscurely armed in war,
373
Genius, poverty of, how discovered, i. 163
Gentlemen's duty towards those that come to visit them, i. 53-The
condition of country-gentlemen in France, 349
I
INDEX.
Geographers of Montaigne's time, ii. 240, 241
Geometrical demonstrations, ii. 240, 241
Geometry, how far useful, ii. 187
German, Mary, feigned to have been turned into a man, i. 96
Germans, drunk, performing their duty, i. 441-Great drinkers,
443 Loggerheads, ii. 28
Gervase, St., his relics said to have recovered the lost sight of a
child, i. 213
Geta, emperor, his dishes served up to table alphabetically, i. 361
Getæ, their manner of sending deputies to their god, ii. 165
Giants, iii. 156
Gifts, prohibited between man and wife, i. 226—Of kings, how they
ought to be bestowed, iii. 143
Gilippus, undeserving of the character of a great man, i. 372, Note
Giraldus, Lilius, his death, i. 270
Gladiators, Thracian, their oath, ii. 73-Roman gladiators, 391
Glasquin, Bertrand, how honoured after his death, i. 14-His dif-
ferent names, 365, Note
Glasses, magnifying, ii. 280
Glory, vain, and curiosity, scourges of the mind, i. 214, 335—In-
consistent with repose, 298-Due to God alone, ii. 305-What
it is, ib.-Contemned by certain philosophers, 306-Desired for
the profit it brings along with it, ib.-To be desired for itself, 308
-Recorded in books, 319-The shortest way to it, iii. 8
Glosses upon books only augment doubts, iii. 361
Goats trained up to give suck to children, i. 520, 521-Balls found
in the paunch of one, ii. 515
GOD, his sacred name ought not to be taken in vain, i. 414, 422—
Purity of soul requisite in praying to Him, 415-Assists faith and
religion, not the passions of men, ii. 47, 48-Ought to be loved
above all things, 49-His grace forms our reason, 54-Equally
exempt from virtue and vice, 131-Has made foolish the wisdom
of the world, 132-Unknown, adored at Athens, 153-The Pa-
gans' idea of Him, ib.-The folly of pretending to know Him, by
comparing him with man, 164-His power and perfections above
man's conceptions, 168-His power not to be limited by the rules
of our speech, 174-Can alone can be said to subsist continually,
283-How his name may be increased, 305
God made Man, adored as such, ii. 244
Gods, of the poets, favouring the deliverance of persons suffering
under a languishing death, i. 487-Lascivious, ii. 181-Partakers
of men's quarrels, 184-Banished by the Caunians, ib.-Their
power limited, 185-Of mean power; terrestrial, ib.; mortal, 186
-Of the heathens, patrons of governments, 321-Obnoxious to
passions, iii. 163
Gold should rather be despised by a prince than his subject, i. 353
-Hoarded together for ornament and show, iii. 156
Golden age, i. 248
Good and evil, the Pythagorean doctrine of, i. 38-The basis of our
opinion respecting, 308-Imaginary, of men, ii. 109-Real, of
beasts, 110-What is the greatest, 118-Moral, confounded with
↑
INDEX.
evil in man, 379-Never sent absolutely pure to men, iii. 353-
Sovereign of the Academics and Peripatetics, 427
Good man, not one of a thousand, i. 285-Good men free from
all injuries, 290
Good-nature, remarks concerning, ii. 429
Goodness in necessity, iii. 268
Goods of fortune despised, i. 293-Equally evil to the unjust, 346
-Of this world, ii. 180-Of the mind seem fruitless to men, if
not produced to the view of others, iii. 211
Goose in love with a child, ii. 90
Government, every nation contented with that which it is used to,
i. 121—A defect in, 269-Anacharsis's notion of it, 352—Of a
family, more troublesome than hard, iii. 201, 202-What is the
best for every nation, 212-Civil, a mighty thing, and hard to be
dissolved, 217-Whether violence may be committed in a coun-
try for the sake of rectifying it, 329
Governments obnoxious to diseases, ii. 388
Governor, of a place, how he ought to behave himself in the time of
a siege, i. 26-Punishment of one for his cowardice, 58-Of a
child, how he should behave, 168, &c.-Not to be praised for
common actions, 302
Gournay, Mary de, her character, ii. 363
Gourvay, mademoiselle, why she called herself Montaigne's daughter,
i. 218
Gout; pleasant reply of a gentleman afflicted with that disease, to
his physicians, i. 21-What Servius did to cure it, 454-Coun-
terfeited, became real, ii. 395
Gozo island, i. 461
Gracchus's prompter, ii. 276
Grammar, six thousand books written upon it by one author, iii. 197
Grammarians, their language, i. 402
Grammont, madam de, letter to her, i. 233
Grandeur of the Romans, ii. 393, &c.
Gratitude of a lion, ii. 97-Towards the dead, iii. 270
Great, a title given to princes, i. 403
Great men should not be praised for common things, i. 302-Should
not excel in things altogether unnecessary, 303-Ought to have
their faults hidden, 348-The respect anciently paid to them, 390
-Have no true share in the exercises of honour and valour, iii.
161-Are not so silly oftentimes as they seem to be, 180-Gainers
by their silence, 181
Greatness, its inconveniency, and advantage, iii. 158, &c.-Easily
avoided, and despised, 159-Of soul, by what particularly disco-
vered, 422
Grecians, happier and wiser than the Romans, i. 202―Their fa-
mous retreat from Babylon, 275
Greediness in eating reproved by Diogenes, iii. 415
Greek and Latin may be taught more easily than they commonly
are, i. 202-Taught by way of pastime, 204-Greek studied in
age, ii. 413
old
{
INDEX.
Greeks, proposal to them and the Indians, how received, i. 121-
And Romans compared, ii. 443, 444
Greyhound's imagination, ii. 105
Grief, excessive, the cause of sudden death, i. 8.-Other effects of
it, 10-Eased by a pleasant method, iii. 48-Imprinted by coun-
terfeited forms, 49
Gudgeon and whale, ii. 100
Guesclin, sir Bertrand du, constable of France, uncertain way of
spelling his name, i. 365, and Note
Guests, how they ought to be chosen, according to Varro, iii. 416
Guevara's letters, their character, i. 384
Guicciardin's history, ii. 18
Guienne, college, where Montaigne was bred, i. 207
Guise, duke of, his conduct at the battle of Dreux, i. 359—Shot at,
ii. 424
Gymnastics of Plato, iii. 78
Gymnosophists voluntarily burn themselves, ii. 420
Gypsies wash their children as soon as they are born, i. 320
H.
HABIT, makes things familiar, i. 481, &c.
Hairs, pulled off in great sorrow, i. 22-Suffered to grow on one
side, and shaved on the other, 118-Pinched off through effe-
minacy and luxury, 390
Halbert managed by the twist of a boy's neck, i. 113
Halcyon's marvellous qualities, ii. 102-The wonderful structure
of its nest, 103
Hands, the various things they express, ii. 63
Hannibal's answer to Antiochus, when he asked him how the Ro-
mans would like his army, i. 371、
Happiness, of men not to be estimated before they are dead, &c. i.
66-Imaginary, claimed by man; the real, left to beasts, ii. 109—
Eternal, what must be the change of our being to qualify us for
it, 161
Harangue cannot make men valiant on a sudden, iii. 189
Hare, a tutor for valour, ii. 422
Harpaste, Seneca's wife's fool, blind, and did not know it, ii. 397
Heads, of the Egyptians harder than those of the Persians, i. 273—
Uncovered in the presence of the gods, 274-Naked in all
seasons, ib.
Health, the regimen for it, ii. 87-The best and richest good of
nature, 119-Attendant on stupidity and sensibility, 120-Too
vigorous, must be abated by art, 388-A precious thing, 495-Al-
tered and corrupted by physicians, 496-Altered by use of phy-
sic, 507—What is, iii. 377, 379, &c.-More pleasant after sick-
ness, 397
Heat, coming from the fire, makes the head heavy, iii. 380
Heaven, God's palace, ii. 180
Hedgehogs' foreknowledge of the change of the wind, ii. 85
INDEX.
Hegesias's saying of death, i. 455-His disciples pined themselves
to death, why, iii. 40
Heir-at-law, deficiency of the law in regard to confirming him an
adult, i. 427
Heirs, the choice of them, i. 518
Heliodore, bishop, his fondness for his romance, i. 522
Heliogabalus, his death, i. 262-His design of dying delicately, ii.
290-His diabolical licentiousness, iii. 137-His coach drawn
by stags, by dogs, by tigers, by naked women, ib.
Henry the Fourth (of France), how he chose to be called by his
children, i. 510
Henry the Seventh, king of England, his treachery to the duke of
Suffolk, i. 31
Henry the Eighth, king of England, caught an ambassador in an
error, i. 40
Heptameron of the queen of Navarre, ii. 32
Heracleotes Dionysius, ii. 117

Heraclitus, his excuse for passing his time with boys, i. 147-His
face and humour, 397-His notion of the soul, ii. 199-What So-
crates thought of his writings, iii. 362
Hercules and the sexton of his temple threw dice for a supper and
a mistress, ii. 181
Heresies animated by disputes, i. 419
Hermachus receives the charge of Metrodorus's children from the
expiring breath of Epicurus, ii. 307
Hermogenes, a notorious thief, iii. 146, Note
Herodotus's mason, i. 32-His notion of the polar inhabitants, 358,
359
Heroes shedding tears, i. 449
Hierarchy of the idol gods of the philosophers, ii. 159, 160
Hieron's notion of kings and kingly power, i. 347, 349
Hierophilus, his physics, ii. 504
Hilary, St., his miracles, a mere farce, i. 212-His prayer to God
for the death of his wife and daughter, 264, 265
Hilary, St., the solitary life of a dean of, i. 510
Himbercourt, the sieur de, how he appeased the fury of the Liegeois,
iii. 38
Hippias bantered by Socrates, i. 160
Hippias, Eleus, why he learned to do every thing for himself, iii. 229
Hippomanes, and his golden apples, iii. 39
Historian, the importance of the reader's knowing his profession, i.
60-The qualities requisite in him, 245
Historians pleasant and easy, ii. 14-Of facts, 15-The most excel-
lent, ib. Of the middle sort, and of Montaigne's age, ib.
Histories, the only good ones, ii. 16
•
History, whether or no it should be written by a divine and a phi-
losopher, i. 106-The benefit of that study to youth, 177-Profi-
table to be read at all times, iii. 179
Homer criticised by Montaigne, i. 345-Had but one servant, 404-
The founder of all sects of philosophy, ii. 146-Reckoned the
leader of all generals, 261-Preferred to the greatest geniuses,
INDEX.
477-Was a guide and teacher to Virgil, ib.-A perfect instructor
in the knowledge of all things, 478-A counsellor in military af-
fairs, 479
Honest man not corrupted by the employment he exercises, iii.
287, 288
Honesty and profit, considerations on, ii, 524, &c.-Scholastic, iii.
532
Honorary rewards, considerations on, i. 495, to 499
Honour and glory, not communicable, i. 335, &c.—Of a victory, re-
fused, 337-The place of, at the tables of the Romans, 392-
Obtained by valour, ii. 310-What it is, 313-Of ladies, 322
Hope, its limits, i. 459-Remains as long as there is life, ib.-Of
future glory, ii. 213

Horace's language, iii. 97
Horse of king Charles, i. 377-Of Alexander, 378-Of Cæsar, ib.
Horsemanship, dexterity in, i. 387
Horsemen, when they ought to dismount in a battle, i. 379
Horses of service, called destriers, i. 376-Trained up to help their
riders, ib.-Of the Numidians, 377-Of the Mamalukes, 378-
Horses and arms taken from conquered nations, 379—Of the Gas-
cons, 383-Of the Swedes, ib.-Of the Massilians, ib.-Fettered
in the stable by the Assyrians, 384—Of Scythia, ib.-Valued as
much as men, ib.-Their blood and urine used for nourishment
on emergent occasions, ib.-Unbridled in a battle, 385-Embow-
elled for men to creep into their bellies, 386-Feeding upon ser-
pents, 387-Clipped, to be led in triumph, ib.-Their affection
to each other, ii. 88-Their dreams, 104
Hospital, ranked with the best poets, ii. 363
Hospitals for beasts, ii. 40
Houses, where all things lay open, i. 118-Garrisoned, plundered
sooner than others, why, ii. 303
Housewifery, the best knowledge for a mother of a family, iii. 238
Humanity towards beasts, ii. 40
Humility and submission the parents of virtue, ii. 113
Humour, singularity of, should be early corrected, i. 192
Humours gathered in men's bodies, i. 282
Hungary given up by Solyman, ii. 395
Husbandry, a servile employment, i. 294, 295-In the enjoyment of
pleasures, iii. 424
Husbands careful of the chastity of their wives, iii. 79-May be
too careful of it, 94
Hyperboreans, their voluntary death, i. 472
Hypocrisy decried in war, ii, 315
Hyposphagma, ii. 277

:
I.
ICETES Seeks to assassinate Timoleon, i. 268
Ideas of Plato, ii. 150
Idleness, its pernicious consequences, i. 34
Idols cemented with the blood of little children, ii. 165
INDEX.
Ignatius and his son, their heroic deaths, i. 269
Ignorance and wisdom have the same effect, i. 408-Of several
sorts, ib.-A compliment on the confession of ignorance, ii. 3-
Recommended by religion, 114-Its effects preferable to those of
knowledge, 117-Its advantage, 128-Mother of vices, iii. 3-
The mischiefs of not owning it, 312-Strong and generous, ib.
-Its vow in point of devotion, 323-A soft pillow for a well-
turned head, 370
Ignorant, better men among them than among the learned, ii, 112,
113
Ill-luck good for something, ii. 342
Imagination, its power and effects, i. 93-Strange effects produced
by it, 96-A pleasant remedy for curing an evil of it, 97-A dis-
temper contracted by the mere power of it, 104-The brute-
creation subject to its power, ib. and 105-Its effects upon preg-
nant women, 105-Not the privilege of men only, but also of
beasts, ii. 104, &c.
Immortality, refused by Chiron, why, i. 91
Immortality of the soul believed by the barbarians, i. 250-The evil
consequences resulting from Plato's arguments in favour of it, ii.
50-Ón what the opinion of it is founded, 213-The truth of it
assured to us by Revelation, 215-Maintained by several philo-
sophers, 216
Immortalization, Alexander's fancies about it, iii. 430
Imposture, its subject, i. 260
Impostures, their foundation, iii. 312
Impurity, odious to God, i. 415
Inanimate things too much sought after by mankind for amuse-
ment, i. 22
Incense and perfumes used in churches, origin of the custom, i. 412
Inclination forced, ii. 271, &c.
Inclinations, natural, fortified by education, seldom altered and
overcome, iii. 8, 9-Are not always to be followed, 20-Unna-
tural, not to be believed, 353
Inconstancy, of man's desires, i. 404-Of our ordinary practices,
429-On what founded, 431-Pardonable in women's love, iii. 115
Inconveniences, ordinary, are never light, iii. 204–Of human na-
ture, ought not to be preoccupated, 339, 342
Indathyrsis, king, his answer to Darius, when he reproached him för
retiring always before him, i. 51.
Indians, their custom of eating the bodies of their deceased pa-
rents, i. 121—Their adoration of the sun, 261-Ride upon oxen,
385-Their wives yielded themselves to a voluntary death, 418
-Burned themselves, to deprive Alexander of the pleasure of
his victory, 468
Indies not conquered by the kings of Castile and Portugal, ü. 382
Indifferency, a fault opposite to curiosity, i. 473
Indigence accompanies riches as well as poverty, i. 329—Has its
sweetness and favours, iii. 383
Indivisibility of friendship, i. 227
Industry, frivolous, deservedly rewarded, i. 407
INDEX.
Inequality among mankind, i. 339, &c.
Infant, monstrous, ii. 425
Infantry, Roman, their military discipline, i. 528, 529
Infants, swathing them not necessary, ii. 66
Ingratitude preferred by Montaigne to lying under an obligation,
iii. 227
Injury professed, less hateful than a treacherous one, iii. 234
Injustice of the extremest sort according to Plato, iii. 330
Innocency grown into contempt, ii. 27
Innocents punished without the judge's fault, iii. 366
Innovation of great lustre, iii. 304
Innovations in a state, dangerous, i. 125, 126
Inquiries, philosophical, vanity of, ii. 201
Inquiring into matters and things useful to know, i. 177-After
truth, man's proper business, iii. 175
Inquiry, vain, into causes without a certainty of the facts, iii. 307
Insensibility, perfect, not possible, nor desirable, ii. 122

Insolence, hereditary, i. 119
Instability of men's manners and opinions, i. 430-Of their condi-
tion, ii. 356
Instruction by contrariety, iii. 166-Of science, 338-Of nature, ib.
Intention, men's actions to be judged by it, i. 31, &c.-The only
judge of well or ill doing, 435
Intentions, secret, ii. 345
Interment, ignominious, for suicides, i. 457
Interpreters readily found for writings the most obscure, ii, 260
Interview of two kings, i. 54
Inutility itself, not useless in nature, ii. 525
Invention, the principal part of poetry, i. 199
Invocation of the name of God in all our actions, i. 414
Iphigenîa, her sacrifice, how represented by painters, i. 7.-Sacri-
ficed at the port of Aulis, ii. 166
Irenæus's death, i. 262
Irresolution, most common vice of man's nature, i. 429
Ischolas's overthrow, more glorious than a victory, i. 255, 256
Isis, the Egyptian idol, ii. 159
Island discovered by the Carthaginians, i. 245
Italian umbrellas, iii. 236, 237
Italians, subtle and quick of apprehension, but not brave, ii. 27-
Keep their wives in too great restraint, iii. 112
Itch, iii. 403
Ivry, battle of, i. 372
J.
JANUS, his double face, iii. 52
Jaropelc, duke of Russia, how he liked the treason, but punished
the traitor, ii. 536
Jason Phereus, how cured of an imposthume, i. 267
Jaundice, its effect, ii. 277
Jealousy exasperates men against incontinency, iii. 82, and envy,
INDEX.
.
: 83—Among beasts, ib.-Of women, furious and odious, 85, 86,
:.
93
Jests of some men that were going to be hanged, i. 310-Of some
buffoons, who died with a joke in their mouths, 311
Jewish women, who cast themselves from a precipice, i. 461
Jews cruelly treated by the Portuguese, to make them change their
religion, i. 312—Others, who, out of zeal for their religion, killed
themselves and children, 313
Joachim, the Calabrian abbot, his divination, i. 49
Joan, queen of Naples, why she caused her husband to be hanged,
iii. 116
Jointure, a great one ruinous, i. 516
Josephus's hope, i. 460
Journal kept by Montaigne's father, of his family affairs, i. 270
Joy, sudden and unexpected, its dangerous effect, i. 10-Joy and
serenity of mind, the marks of wisdom, 185-Profound joy has
more severity than gaiety in it, ii. 377
Jubellius's suicide, i. 467, 468
Judges of China, and their offices, iii. 367
Judgment, uncertainty of, the subject treated at large, i. 368 to 376
Is a touchstone to try all subjects by, 395-Its inclination, ii.
226, &c.-Its uncertainty visible to every man, 228-Depends
very much on the alterations of the body, 229-Its weakness not
easy to be discovered, 231-Impossible to form a definitive judg-
ment of things by appearances, 282-Judgment of the multitude
contemptible, 313-The human judgment, a free and roving
thing, iii. 307
Judgments of other men appealed to, iii. 191
Julian the Apostate, emperor, his punishments of his soldiers for
cowardice, i. 58-Not affected by the praise of his courtiers, 351
-His character, ii. 372, 373, &c.
Julius, Canius, how he philosophized in his last moments, i. 482
Justice ought not to be bought, i. 123-The executions of it ought
to be simple, ii. 34-Is a principle created for the society and
intercourse of men, 131-Foundation of the justice of laws, 252
-Maliciously executed, 526-Universal, more perfect than pecu-
liar and national, 533-Full of error and contradiction, iii. 365-
Formed after the model of physic, 366

KARANTI people, iii. 240
K.
Killing, an act of cowardice, ii. 401
King, of Peru hanged after he had paid his ransom, iii. 153-Of
Mexico taken prisoner, put to the rack, and hanged, 154
Kingdoms, disposed of by Cæsar, ii. 393—Gained by the right of
war, restored, 394
Kinge, queen of Poland, her vow of chastity, iii. 72
Kings, how they should be treated after their decease, i. 12–What
they ought most to value themselves upon, 303—Subject to the
same passions and accidents as other men, 343-Have a great

INDEX.
$
and painful duty incumbent on them, 346-In a worse condition
than private men, for the fruition of pleasure, 347-Worse off than
asses in some respects, 349-Prisoners to the limits of their domi-
nions, ib.—Good and bad may have equal reverence, 350-May
render wealth and luxury contemptible to their subjects, 354
Their souls cast in the same mould as those of coblers, ii. 95—
Ought to command their armies in person, and to be active even
on a death-bed, 381, 384—The kings of Castile and Portugal not
conquerors in the Indies, 382-Why kings should not be too pro-
fuse in their expenses, iii. 137-Whether liberality, and what de-
gree of it, becomes them, 139, 141-What is properly the royal
virtue, 141–The more excusable because of the difficulty of their
office, 161-Why they are excluded from the honour resulting
from the exercises of the body and mind, 162-The only thing
they learn that is necessary, ib.-How their faults are hid, 164—
They give the greatest offices at hap-hazard, 181-The respect
due to them, 185-The need they have of an officer to talk freely
to them, and teach them to know themselves, 375, 376
Kisses, powerful and dangerous, become contemptible by saluta-
tions, iii. 109
Kissing the hands of the great, a mark of respect, i. 390-Kissing
in salutation, ib.
Kitchens, portable, i. 392
Knighthood, orders of, i. 495, 496, &c.-Difficult to bring a new
order of into credit, 498
Knowledge, of ourselves, i. 12, 397-Of what shall come to pass, 45
Of things present, 149-Of great men, reposited in their li-
braries, and in the heads of their attendants, 150-Should be
made our own, 151-Without judgment, defective, 154, 197—Of
the effects of things, 159-Knowing by rote, not worthy to be
accounted knowledge, 171-Of the stars, too abstruse to be
taught to children, 182, 183-Attained to with great difficulty,
210,211-Of things, to what use it should be applied, 315-Whe
ther it exempts those that have it from inconveniences, ii. 112—
Cicero's commendation of the knowledge of literature, 114, 115
-The knowledge of pleasure depends upon that of evil, 122
-Knowledge throws men into the arms of ignorance, ib.-The
increase of it increaseth sorrow, 125-How much the greatest
men have attained to, 134-Of God, not to be attained by com-
paring him with man, 164-Of present things, as remote from us
as that of the stars, 192–Of our own being, 193-Of the soul,
very difficult to attain to, 197, &c.-Treated like a toy by the an-
cient philosophers, 203-Human, its extent, 224, &c.—Of man
very difficult to man, 225, &c.-Its basis and limits, 263-Guided
by the senses, 267, 268—What branches of, fittest for the women,
iii. 26—Attained but very imperfectly by the most curious en-
quirer, 148-Honoured, 174-A thing of indifferent quality, ib.
-A thing of great weight, 180-Of ourselves, recommended by
Apollo, 275-Of causes, 307-Of ourselves, of greatest impor
tance, 372
INDEX.
L.
LABIENUS buried himself alive, why, i. 522
▸
Lacedæmonian youth, their constancy, i. 321-Women, 393-
Lad, who would not be a slave, though captive, 452-Women ex-
pose their thighs, ii. 79 -
Lacedæmonians, their vain ceremony at the interment of their kings,
i. 14-Their victory by flight, 51-Education of their children,
158-Their answer to Antipater, when he demanded fifty of their
children for hostages, 159-Chivalry, 195-Their answer to
Antipater's menace, 453-Policy without learning, ii. 128-
Prayers to their deity, 247-The reason of their sacrificing to the
Muses, 318-Their children whipped at Diana's altar, 440
Lackeys of the ancients, i. 394
Ladies, holding their hands to receive their king's spittle, i. 113-
In the baths, 393-Dissuaded from preferring suicide to being
ravished, 463-French, better natured, ib.-Their honour and
duty, ii. 322-Learnedly speaking and writing, iii. 26-Never
témpted, cannot boast of their chastity, 81-The boasting of
their favours censured, 82, 83
Ladislaus, king of Naples, how poisoned, ii. 448
Laërtius, Diogenes, his character, ii. 14
Lais's character of the philosophers, iii. 260
Language, of the barbarians, i. 258-Of essays, 303-Of architects,
402-Mute, ii. 69-Different in animals of the same species, 70
Human, very deficient, 174-Confounded at Babel, 214-
French, 332-Gascon, ib.-Magisterial, to servants, reproved,
iii. 24-Set off or enriched by wits, censured, 25-Common, how
rendered obscure and ambiguous in covenants, &c. 360
Languages, the Greek and Latin, may be learned with less pains
than are usually taken, i. 202
Laodicea, the fair Greek, married to king Amasis, i. 99
Latin language taught to Montaigne before the French, i. 203
Latin Poets, ii. 363
Laughing and crying at the same time, i. 281
Laurentina, a harlot, won at hazard, ii. 181
Law of obedience, the first law of God to men, i. 113-Whence
rise the doubts and difficulties of the law, iii. 361-General law
of the world, 369
Laws, of conscience, whence derived, i. 120-Of honour, opposed
to those of justice, 124 Established by long custom, ought not
to be altered, 125-May be changed in cases of extreme neces-
sity, 130-Severe, of Persia, moderated by Artaxerxes, ii. 35-
Necessary to keep men in order, 222-Subject to perpetual alte-
ration, 250-Changed in England, ib.-Of nature, 252-On what
their justice is founded, ib. Of nature, lost in men, 253—Au-
thorised by custom, 257-The justest have some mixture of in-
justice, 379—Of Solon, iii. 213-Multiplicity of, fatal to a state,
358-Those of nature, the best, 359-More in France than in all
VOL. III.
K K
INDEX.
Europe, ib.-Ethic, hard to be taught, 365-Imperfect, as far as
they relate to the subjects, ib.-How they support their credit in
France, 368-Ordinarily faulty, ib.
Law-suits carefully avoided by Montaigne, iii. 296
Lawyer, a pleasant story of one, ii, 513
Lawyers, the fourth state in a government, i, 123-The contexture
of their debates, ii. 355-Are the pest of a country, iii. 360
Laziness hateful, iii. 123-Of married women, 238
Leaders of parties, their impositions, iii, 290
Leagues and confederations, i. 229
Learned men, why contemptible, i. 148-Why vain and weak, ii.
361
Learning, whether it is absolutely necessary, i. 151, 156—Charac-
ter of pretenders to it, 152-Must be incorporated into the
mind, 155—Not much required in women, ib.-Desired for
profit-sake, 156-Despised by the Lacedæmonian youth, 158
-Fit for children,. 159-Its chief use, 167-Its great profit and
value, ii. 41-Brought into esteem by Francis the First, ib.-Has
its place amongst the necessary things of this life, 113-Not
barely a remembrance of what we knew before, 207-Bought at
a great rate, full of natural weakness, iii. 323, 324-Is a dan-
gerous acquisition, 333-That which is of absolute necessity, is
innate in man, ib.
Led horse, to change in a battle, i. 377
Legs of the French gentlemen smaller than others, why, iii. 318
Leo, pope, his death, i. 262
Leonidas's defeat preferable to the most glorious victory, i. 255
Leonora, Montaigne's only daughter, i. 505
Lepidus's wife broke his heart, iii. 84
Leprosy, how cured, ii. 519

Lesson ought to be measured to the scholar's capacity, i. 169
Lessons more profitable in practice than theory, i. 194
Letters, published by Cicero and Pliny, to what end, i. 301-Of
ceremony, and offers of service, 306 Of favour and recommen-
dation, 307-With qualities and titles, ib.--Of this age, ib.-Why
the reading of them should not be deferred, 474-Six. original
letters from Montaigne, viz. To Monsieur de Lansac; being an
Introduction of Boetia's Translation of Xenophon's Economy, iii,
433, 434:-To Monsieur de Mesmes, an Introduction of Boetia's
Translation of Plutarch's Rules of Marriage, 435, 436:A let-
ter printed before Boetia's Translation of Plutarch's Letter of
Consolation to his Wife, and inscribed by Montaigne, to Made-
moiselle de Montaigne, his Wife, 437, 438:-To Monsieur de
P'Hospital, Chancellor of France; printed before some Latin
verses of Stephen de la Boetia, 438 to 441:-Extract of a letter
which the Counsellor de Montaigne wrote to his father; con-
'taining some particulars of the sickness and death of M. de la
Boetia, 441 to 457:-A letter of Montaigne to his Father, 457,
4.58
Lettre-ferits, the term defined, i. 153
Levinus, the consul, his engagement with Pyrrhus, i. 372

INDEX.
Lewis, St. his severe treatment of himself through devotion, ì. 324-
How he prevented a Tartarian king from going to kiss the pope's
toe, ii. 47
Liars ought to have a good memory, i. 37
Liberal sciences, i. 181
Liberality, in a sovereign hand, not in its true lustre, iii. 139, 142-
A virtue imprinted in princes from their youth, 140-Immode-
rate, 141-Is of little commendation in princes, 142-Reproached
to Cyrus, ib.
Liberties, counterfeited, practised without success, ii. 533
Liberty, of conscience, ii. 371, &c.-Becoming ladies, what,
S8-What is, 89
Libo advised by his aunt Scribonia to kill himself, i. 462
iii.
Libraries, what preserved them from fire, when the Goths ravaged
Greece, i. 160
Library, Montaigne's, its situation and form, iii. 34
Licinius, an enemy to knowledge, ii. 128
Lie, of giving it, ii. 365-Revenged with a box on the ear, 403
Life, in itself, is neither a good nor an evil, i. 88-Of men, compared
to the assembly of the Olympic games, 181-Its shortness and
uncertainty, 428-Many ways to get rid of it, 453-Of a wise
man, ib.-The contempt of it ridiculous, 457-Painful and irk-
some, exchanged for death, 464-A good one the mark of true
Christianity, ii. 46-Of men, compared to a dream, 276—Ex-
quisite, what, iii. 6-By what trifling objects the desire of
it is kept up, 46-Hidden from the sight of other men, 106-Di-
vided between folly and prudence, 119-Only communicated by
the working of the belly, 197-Tender, and easily disturbed, 204
-Ruled by fortune, 252-Private, why loved, 257-Weak and
sottish, carried on by rule and discipline, 384-Compared to
the harmony of the world, 392-Limited by Solon to seventy
years, 410-The use Montaigne made of it, 423-The measure
of its enjoyment depends on the application of it, 424-Ought
to be loved and cultivated, 426
Lingua, a book so called, written by Erasmus, remarkable passage
from it, i. 41, Note
Lion, the remarkable gratitude of one, ii. 97
Lions harnessed to the coach of Mark Antony, iii. 137
Lipsius's politics, i. 165
Lipsius, Justus, his character, ii. 250
Little world, man so called, ii. 190
Lives of retired men painful and difficult in their duties, iii. 8—The
fairest, which, 430
Livia's counsel to Augustus, on Cinna's conspiracy, i. 134
Living, by the example of others doth more harm than good, iii. 211
-Living well, is man's master-piece, 419
Livy's history, i. 177
Loadstone, its virtue, i. 279
Locke, the English philosopher, his character, iii. 364, Note
Lodgings that our author liked best in travelling, iii. 251
KK 2
INDEX.
Lombards' horses that would wheel about in a gallop, i. 383, Note
Longings, violent, of sick persons, iii. 388
Lord's prayer recommended to be used by all Christians, i. 414
Lords of France called Roytelets, by Cæsar, i. 349
Lorrain, cardinal of, comparison between him and Seneca, ii. 437
Losses that befal, men by the injury of others, are sharp, iii. 334
Love, conjugal, attended with respect, i. 2, 238-Unnatural, how to
be cured, 122-To women, 219-Its definition, ib.-Terminates
in friendship, 227-Restrained by divinity, 236-How to be
cured, ii. 127-Its ascendant over the mind of man, 236—A law
to keep it in breath, 298-Stronger than ambition, 447, 448-The
entertainment of the Muses, iii. 62-Is more animated and lovely
in poetry than in its own essence, ib.-Its transports banished
from marriage, why, 63-Not to be found in the married state any
more than virtue in nobility, 64--Being founded wholly upon plea-
sure, differs therefore from marriage, 69-The general tendency
of mankind to it, 75-Edicts at Rome for its service, ib.-Its de-
finition, according to Zeno and Socrates, 103-Makes men like
to beasts, ib.-Inspired by nature, should not be condemned, 104
-Stimulated by talking of it discreetly, 107-Of the Spaniards
and Italians timorous and secret, 108-Should be made by de-
grees, ib. and 114-Montaigne's fidelity in it, 114-Foolishly
conscientious, 121-Of Montaigne's time, had little to do with
sincerity, 122-Not sociable with prudence, 124-What it is, and
how it hurts none but fools, ib.-Óf what profit in old age, 126—
Requires relation and correspondency, 128-What age the fittest
for, 129-Its comportment, ib.—Preferred to fear, 231
Lover, having gained his mistress's consent, refused to enjoy her,
iii. 109
Love-songs of American savages, i. 258
Loyalty unknown in Montaigne's age, iii. 207
Lucan's fondness for his Pharsalia, i. 523
Lucius Crossicius, feigned to have been turned from a woman into
a man on the wedding-day, i. 95
Lucretius's philosophy too weak for a love-potion, i. 448-Charac-
ter of his poetry, ii. 6-His picture of the amours of Mars and
Venus, iii. 96
Lucullus made a great general, by learning, i. 151
Luther's opinion, the disputes about it in Germany; iii. 364
Luxury, laws against, i. 354
Lybians, their general good state of health, ii. 498
Lycas's character, ii. 124


Lycon, the philosopher, his direction for his funeral, i. 18
Lycurgus forbade the Lacedæmonians to strip their vanquished
enemies, i. 371-Allowed theft to be practised, ii. 254-The ge-
neral trustee for his fellow-citizens, iii. 225
Lying, a hateful vice, i. 38-Coupled with stubbornness, ib.-In-
stances of, 39, 40-Condemned, ii. 344-A vice reproached to
the French, 369-Reproach of, offends, ib.-An argument of the
contempt of God, ib.-How expiated by the Indians, 370-
Practised amongst the Greeks and Romans, ib.
INDEX.
Lyncestes killed with thrusts of pikes by Alexander's soldiers, while
he hesitated in his speech, iii. 220
Lysis, the Pythagorean, tutor to Epaminondas, ii. 22, Note
!
M.
MADAM, a title given to women of great quality, i. 407
Madness in great wits, i. 450, 451; ii. 120
Maggot, its passions as strong as those of an elephant, ii. 96
Magnanimity in adversity, i. 2, 3-Wherein it consists, iii. 9, 419, &c.
Magpie that imitated the sound of a trumpet, i. 79
Mahomet, his paradise, ii. 160-Was a very great lecher, 448
Mahomet the Second, murders his brother, ii. 537
Mahometans tearing their flesh to gratify their prophet, ii. 167
Maid throwing herself out of a window for fear of a rape, i. 432
Maids restoring their reputations merely by their constancy, iii. 82
-Waiting on ladies, ought not to be kept too close, 113–Dressed
up in bashfulness and fear, ib.
Mail, coats of, i. 529
Maladies, disfiguring the countenance, the most dangerous, ii. 428
-Long and grievous, restore the body to a better state, iii. 219
Mamalukes, their horses very dextrous, i. 378
Mamertines city, how treated by Pompey, i. 4
Man, a variable creature, i. 4-His whole duty, 12-To how many
crosses he is liable before death, 68, 85-How animated, 101-
A miserable creature, 239-His real merit and superiority over
others, 255—What renders him easy or uneasy, 333-To be va-
lued for what he has in him, not what he has about him, 340-His
imperfection demonstrated from his inconstancy, 404-His so-
vereign good, 405-At what age he is capable of displaying his
ability, 428-His respect due to the animals, ii. 40-His advan-
tage above the other creatures, 57-Subject to presumption, 61-
By what right he claims a superiority over all animals, ib.-Not
the only animal abandoned naked upon the bare earth, 66-Fur-
nished with natural weapons, 69-The sole animal whose nudity.
offends his companions, 108-Wherein superior to the beasts,
110-His sovereign good, what, 118-His beautiful figure, 183
-Thinks every thing created for himself, 183, 184-His confused
idea of himself, 190-Called a little world, ib.-Why he seldom
doubts of things, 193-Defined by Plato, 202-Solicitous to pro-
long his being, 213-His first production, 219-Not the measure
of all things, 220-Cannot find out what is necessary for him, 246,
&c.—Whether he has all the senses, 264-The importance of his
knowing himself to be his own master, 292-Whipped about like
a top, 431-Is a good lesson to himself, 490-Whether it is va-
nity in him to speak sincerely of himself, 492-How he ought to
value himself, 493-Why created rational, 501, 502-Difference
between the learned and the self-sufficient man, iii. 3-Should sit
in judgment upon himself, 5-Man's chiefest sufficiency, 18, 19
L
Made by the gods for their sport, 103-That dares not adore
the statue of a saint, if not covered with a veil, 104—Avoids tó ·
1
IN DE X.
see a man horn, every one runs to see him dle, 105- kia capa.
city to be judged of in conversation, 186-Pleased with change,
200-Well-bred, is of a compound education, 254-Why he devs
not care to know himself, 275-A fool to be a slave to other men's
affairs, 277—That is sensible of what he owes to himself and to
others, 281-Ought to know his own solid interest, 284-Allowed
to exceed the demands of nature in things that he considers his
necessities, 285-Ought to limit. his desires to be secure from
misfortune, 287-Cannot fix himself to his mene: macessity, 32
His countenance a slender security, 351-His true master-piece,
419-His folly in aspiring, to be more than man, 429
Manners, of beasts proposed to men, for the regimen of their
health, ii. 86—Of the vulgar, more regular than those of the phi-
losophers, 362
Marcellinus, Ammianus, i. 529; ik 372
Marcellinus Tullius, his deliberate death, ii. 293
Marcellus, his soldiers called Mercenaries, ii. 465
Mares honourably buried, ii. 40, 41
Marius's sound sleep, i. 358-Styled at one time the son of Mars,
*
and at another the son of Venus,, 429-Nice in his drinking, äi.
3814
Marot's dispensation to the ladies,, i. 464
Marriage, a contract, i. 220-What it is, 237-The fittest age for
it, 506-The marriage-tie, i 301, 302-In honour among the..
Romans; why, 302 Happy proof of it, 466, 467-More ne-
cessary, but not less honourable than virginity, 545-Not ac-
companied with the raptures of love, iii. 63, 64-Ideas of a
good marriage, 66-It is the most happy state in human so-
ciety, ib-With a mistress commonly repented of, 66-When
there is treachery in it, 68-Its bitters and sweets kept secret
by the wise, 93-Between a blind wife and a deaf husband, 94-
Dissolved by the impotency of the husband, 116, 117-
Marriages between relations, i 252, 253-Unhappy, when con-
tracted purely on the account of beauty, iik 64-Happy, 66,
&e.-In Italy unhappy; why, 112

Married people, i. 100
Mars, his enjoyment with Venus, iii. 96, 97
Marseilles magistracy, i. 125
Martial's epigrams, ii. 8
Mask, why first invented, ii. 300.
Mason, of Herodotus, i. 32
Massilians ride on horseback without either saddle or bridle, i 383
Master, man his own; the importance thereof, i. 292
Master-piece, the true one of man, iii. 419, &c.
Matecoulom, Sieur de, brother to Montaigne, engaged in a duel, ii.
404
Mathematics, the knowledge of, possessed by the tanny-fish, ii. 101
Matrimonial tie, i. 237
i:
Maximilian, the emperor, his singular modesty, i. 16
Meals of the Americans, i. 249-Of the ancients, very long, iii. 409
Means, bad, the end good, ii. 390 -
INDEX.
Meat and dishes in confusion, despised, iii. 406
Meats served up by course, according to the first letters of the meats
themselves, i. 361-Seasoned with odoriferous drugs, 413
Mecanas's passion for life, ii. 487-His amour with the wife of
Galba, iii, 90
Mechmed, emperor, his barbarity, ii. 411
Medes heavily armed, i. 527
Medicine; see Physic
Meditation, a powerful study, iii. 21-The business and beatitude
of the gods, ib.-Is the more embarrassing, in proportion as it is
more copious and solid, 50
..
Medium prescribed between the hatred of pain and love of pleasure,
ii. 276, 277
Megabysus's reproof from Apelles the painter, iii. 181
Melancholy, joined with delight, 377
Melancholy people the most tractable, yet the most inclined to mad-
ness, ii. 120

Melissus's followers, ii. 173
Memory, a goddess, i. 35–Liable to be accompanied with a weak
judgment, ib.—The advantages of a short memory, ib.-A loaded
memory, 149-Useful to the judgment, ii. 347-Defective in
Montaigne, 348, 349-Is the receptacle of sciences, 349-Of
Quartilla, iii. 388-Natural, helped by one of paper, 396
Men, eaters of their fellow-men, i. 242, 254-Ought to be esteemed
by what is their own, 343-Absolute monarchs of themselves, 344
Their advantage over other creatures, ii. 57-Slaves to one
another, 78-Deified, 158-Of several forms, 171-Changed into
wolves, ib Without mouths, 172-Of extraordinary worth, 473
-Ingenious in using themselves ill, ii. 106-Turned into ba-
boons, 157-Brought together by necessity, 213-Puffed up with
wind, 416
Menon's definition of virtue, iii. 364, 365
Mercy of a prince towards a conspirator, i. 133
Merit, or demerit of a man, cannot be judged of by his good or ill
success, i. 262
Merlins in the Mahometan religion, ii. 182
Messalina cuckolded her husband, the emperor Claudius, iii. 95
Metellus's virtue against Saturninus's violence, ii. 23

Metrocles and Crates, ii. 258
Mexican king's greatness, i. 241-Changed his dress four times in
the day, 275-Garden and closet, iii. 149
Mexicans' first lesson to their children, iii. 391
Mexico siege, iii. 154
Michael, St. the order of, in France, formerly held in great esteemt,
sunk into contempt, i. 496; ii. 247
Microcosm, ii. 190
Midas, king, obliged to revoke his prayer to the gods, ii. 247—His
death, iii. 50
Midwives, Socrates' comparison of himself to, ii. 146The name
they go by in France, iii. 243
Milesian virgins hanged themselves, i. 458
INDEX.
1
Milesians and Parians, i. 437
Military men, their faith very uncertain, i. 88-Profession, most
pleasant and noble, iii. 402
Milk of mares, esteemed an excellent drink among the Tartars, i.
386
Mimics, iii. 101
Mind, bewildered by idleness, i. 34-Pliable of itself, 282-Its dis-
ease, 290-Discoverable in all its motions, 396-Is inconstant
and changeable, 434-The productions of it as dear to men as
⚫ their children, 521-Its distempers, ii. 119-What is its proper
food, 149—În an equilibrium, 295—Of various qualities, to be
commended, iii. 23-Engaged or disengaged by trifles, 45-De-
termined by mere imaginations and chimeras, 49-Its strict
connection with the body, 55-Whence its extraordinary flashes
proceed, ib.-Ought to be employed with discretion, 282-The
publishing its productions should not be too late in life, 348-
That is generous, cannot stop itself, 362-Of persons wandering
through all sorts of life, 374, 375
Miracles, counterfeited; what credit they have gained in the world,
iii. 308 to 313—Of scriptural miracles, 313
Mirth, how compatible with wisdom, i. 448, Note
Miso, the Greek sage, his answer on being asked why he laughed
when alone, iii. 176
Mistakes of physicians, dangerous consequences of, ii. 507
Mistrust, the ill effects it has on the mind of a prince, i. 139
Mithridates, his flatterers, iii. 164
Moderation, the subject treated at large, i. 234 to 242-Has more
work than sufferance, ii. 455-Necessary between persons at va-
riance, 530-Required in marriage, limited by the queen of Ar-
ragon, iii. 71-Better learned in prosperity than in adversity, 199
-Required in pleasures, 422
Modesty of Maximilian, i. 16-Necessary to youth, 174-A foolish
virtue in an indigent person, iii. 87-Necessary to women, 113
Moly, a beautiful tree, iii. 157
Monarchy, i. 121.
Money kept with more trouble than got, i. 330-Hoarded by pa-
rents, to gain respect from their children, 504-Opinion as to
saving or spending it, iii. 211
Monied men covetous, i. 331
Monluc, Marshal de, his sorrow for having kept his son at too great
a distance, i. 514
Monsters, whether there are such properly, ii. 426—Are not so
to God, ib.
Monstrous child, ii. 425
Montague-college, in Paris, iii. 265, 266, and Note
MONTAIGNE, Michael seigneur de, (author of these Essays,) his in-
ducement to write, i. 34- Complains of the badness of his memo-
ry, ib.—The advantages he derived from his short memory, 35-
His opinion of the dæmon of Socrates, 49, 50—A prudent custom
observed by him, 58-His endeavours to make himself acquainted
with the profession of a writer, 60-His opinion whether it be con-
INDEX.
sistent with a divine and a philosopher to write history, 106-Why
he would not write the history of his own time, 107-His displea-
sure against pedants, 144-Extent of his acquaintance with lite-
rature, 161-Plutarch and Seneca were his favourite writers, 162
-His judgment of his own Essays, 165, 410-His opinion con-
cerning the education of children, 166-At what time of life he
would have gentlemen set out on their travels, 172-His style
void of all affectation, 201-Learned the Latin language before
the French, 203–Was instructed in Greek in his pastimes, 204-
How he began to take a fancy to reading of authors, 205-Per-
formed the chief parts in the Latin tragedies acted at his college,
207-His opinion of the unnatural friendship of the Greeks, 220
-His advice to authors, 246-His conversation with an American
savage, 259-His dissent from those who seek to depreciate the
ancients, 278–His comparison and estimation of what the Latin
poets said in praise of Cato, 279-What kind of poetry he pre-
ferred, 280-In what he placed the merit of his Essays, 303, 304-
His genius for the epistolary style, 305-His aversion to the ex-
travagant compliments in letters, 306-His unfitness to write let-
ters of recommendation, 307-Always wrote in a great hurry, ib.
-How he regulated his expenses, 331-His coat of arms, 364-
His opinion of the game at chess, 397-A just observation of his
respecting prayer to God, 426-His description and character of
his father, 444, 445-Thrown into a swoon by an accident that
befel him, 485, 486—This event reconciled him to the idea of
dying, 486-His letter to Madam d'Estissac, respecting the
affection of parents to their children, 499 to 525-Disapproved of
violence in the education of children, and cites his own example,
505-Remarks concerning his marriage, 506-His advice to a
gentleman who had lost his wife, 509-Mistrusts his own ade-
quacy for handling many subjects that occur in his Essays, ii. 1—
His reason for not naming the authors from whom he quoted, 2-
What he aimed to find in books, 3-He preferred the writings
of the ancients to those of the moderns, 4-What he thought of
Ovid in the decline of his life, 5-His judgment respecting the La-
tin poets, 6-His reflections on the comic poets of his own time, 7
-Regulated his opinions by books of solidity, 9-His sentiments
respecting the philosophical works of Cicero, 10: of Plato's Dia-
logues, 11: and his approbation of the Epistles to Atticus, ib.—
His delight in reading history, 14-Commendation of Cæsar's
Commentaries, ib.-His reflections on Guicciardin, 18-What
his virtue consisted in, 28, 29-His opinions not so regular as his
manners, 30-What his goodness consisted in, 31, 32—Could re-
sist the strongest impressions of pleasure, 32-His tender-heart-
edness, 33-Translates the Theologia Naturalis of Raimond de
Sebonde, from Spanish into French, 43-His answer to the ob-
jections made to that work, 44, 45-His manner of diverting him-
self with his cat, 61-His ideas respecting a visible religion, 153,
154-Would sometimes maintain the contrary side of an argu-
ment, 232-Did not readily embrace novel opinions, 237-Was
safe in a defenceless house during the civil commotions in France,

INDEX.
*
·
·303, 304His gesture taken for pride, 324-How he undervalued
his persons and possessions, 325-His dislike of his own writings,
327 What notion he had of his own works, 329-His style, 330
His bad promunciation of the French language, 332—His sta-
ture, &c. 334-His shape, air, &c. 336-His general awkwardness,
ib.-Contented with his condition, 338-Naturally delicate and in-
dolent, 339--An enemy to deliberation, 340-Disgusted at ambi-
tion, 341-His dislike of the age in which he was born, 342-His
abhorrence of dissimulation and lying, 344-His frank and open
carriage to great men, 346-His bad memory, 347, 348, 349-
His aversion to obligation and restraint, 347-His genius, 350
His good eye-sight, ib.-His ignorance in the most common
things, 351—His fickleness, 353-Firm in his political sentiments,
354-Upon what he grounded his esteem of himself, 356-Why
he judged his own opinions right, 357-Not much prepossessed in
favour of his own times, 359-Loved to commend merit, whether
in a friend or foe, 360-Why he spoke so often of himself in his
works, 365, 367-His story of a duel, in which his brother
was engaged, 404, 405-His angry temper, 436-His patience
nevertheless in the disease which he most dreaded, 487-His
disease, the stone-cholic, 488-Kept his temper even in the
height of his pain, 490-Incidental mention of his birth, and
family connections, 493-His and his ancestors' contempt of
physic, 494, 495-Two humorous stories related by himself, 513,
515-His pleasant remark on a prescription given him for the
cure of his malady, 518-His letter to Madam de Duras, 520
to 522-His reasons for preferring present esteem to that which
is posthumous, 521-What goods he most valued, ib.-Excuses
himself for having rallied the mysteries of physic, 522-Describes
the condition he should have been in, if he had trusted himself
into the hands of the physicians, 523-Desire of glory moved his
pen against the practice of physic, ib.-His honesty and delicacy
in his political negociations, 527, 528-His behaviour among
those of a different party, 531-Why he shunned public em-
ployment, 532-His opinion of those who have consented to
be the executioners of their own kindred, 538-Why, and in what
manner, he undertakes to speak of himself, in his book, iii. 2—
Recommends every man to sit in judgment upon himself, 5-
Guided in his common actions by his judgment, 12-Why he had
no occasion to repent of the management of his affairs, 14-
Why he seldom gave or took advice in the management of affairs,
15Why he was but little concerned at cross events, 16-Made
little account of the repentance that old age brings with it, ib.-
Wherein he judged human felicity to consist, 17-His opinion
respecting Socrates does him honour, 19, Note-Was inattentive
to frivolous conversation, 21-Too delicate in the choice of his
company, 22, 28-Passionately fond of exquisite friendships, 23
Character of the persons whose familiarity he most sought, 28
-Delighted in the society of well-bred women, ib.-His taste in
his amours, 31, 114-Gave the preference to ladies of wit, pro-
vided their persons were not altogether exceptionable, 32-Si-
INDEX.
tuation of his library, 34-Took pleasure, when himself advanced
in life, in the amusements of young men, 53-His character of
wisdom, 56-His opinion of those who may feel inclined to con-
demn the freedom of his writings, ib.-Always spoke freely as far
as he dared to do so, 57-Censured by the annotator for a mis-
statement, 58, Note-Chose to be confessed in public through a
religious motive, 59-Why he married, though himself very ill-
disposed for it, 67-His opinion of the French language, 99–
Why he chose to have no books beside him while writing, except
the works of Plutarch, 100-Preferred writing at home, ib.-Pos-
sessed an apish imitating quality, 101-Generally produced his
profoundest thoughts on a sudden, 102-Could not endure inter-
ruptions while he was speaking, ib.-His apology for the licen-
tiousness of his style, 119-Blames the conduct of those men,
who, being favoured by the ladies, encroach too much on their
indulgence, 120; and carefully avoided doing the like himself,
121-His opinion respecting pleasure, 125-The advantages he
derived from love in the decline of life, 126-Was not ambitious
of high preferment, 159-His preference of a quiet life, 160-
Aspired not to command, nor loved to be commanded, ib.-How
he brought himself to endure contradiction, and hearing of non-
mense, 168, 169, 174-His advice how to form a right judgment
of a man's capacity for conversation, 186-His invincible dis-
pleasure at the follies of men, 189-Fitted by his natural gaiety,
for returning a jest, 190His manner of rallying and giving the
repartee, ib-How he decided upon the merits of a work, when
submitted to his judgment, 191-Blames Tacitus for making an
apology for having spoken of himself in his history, 195-His
pleasant apology for inserting in his Essays so long a register of
his own humours, 197-His antipathy to sorry scribblers, 198-
Learned more wisdom and moderation in prosperity than in
adversity, 199-Understood little of the management of a family,
and disliked the trouble of it, 201, 202-Was fond of travelling,
notwithstanding the expensiveness of it, 202, 203-Had no taste
for building, nor for the pleasures of a retired life, 205-His
wish for a trusty person, to whose governance he might commit
himself, 207-Loved to repose a confidence in his domestics,
208-Was too negligent to inspect his own affairs, 208, 209-
Was not inclined to hoard money, 211-Forced into a love for
travelling through the depravity of morals prevalent in his coun-
try, 212-His opinion concerning the political state of France,
218, 219-Other instances of his badness of recollection, 220,
221-Professes himself ready enough to make additions to his
writings, but unwilling to admit of any corrections in them,
222 Slighted the rules of punctuation and orthography, 224
Was exposed to great insults in his own house during
the civil wars, ib. and 225, &c.-Greatly disliked to lie un-
der an obligation, 227-His method of fortifying himself against
the shafts of adversity, and universal abandonment, 229, and
see the Note-Used to hold himself prepared to encounter
mortal dangers, 233, and Note-His commendation of Paris,






INDEX.
..
234-Regarded the people of all nations as his countrymen,
235-The advantages that he reaped from his travels, 236-
Blamed by some of his friends for continuing his travels though
old and married, 237-His reasons for wishing to die abroad ra-
ther than at home, 243-His preparations with a view to death,
249, 250-What kind of death he most approved, 251-His me-
thod of travelling, 253-Accommodated himself to the manners
and customs of the several countries he visited, 254-Seldom
joined company on the road, 255-His answer to the arguments
that he supposed might be raised to divert his passion for travel-
ling, 256, 257, 258-Judged himself bound to a certain degree
of exactness in the picture he exhibits of himself, 261, 262-Un-
fit for the management of public business, 262, 263—His reason
for frequent rambling from his subject, 267-His particular liking
to the city of Rome, 269-His gratitude towards the dead, 270
-In what sense he was obliged to fortune, 272, 273-Felt
no uneasiness from the want of children, ib. ib.—His household
affairs, 273-Invested with the freedom of the city of Rome, 274
-Copy of the bull granted to him, 274, 275-Kept his affections
in a moderate state, 276-Strenuously opposed such affections as
might transport him beyond himself, 277-Compelled to serve
the office of mayor of Bourdeaux, 279-The character he gave of
himself to the magistrates of that city, ib.-Though he espoused
a particular party, he did not abandon himself to its ungovernable
fury and caprice, 288-How he endeavoured to prevent bad ac-
cidents in the management of his affairs, 292-Strove to check
the first sally of his passions, 294-Carefully avoided engaging in
law-suits, 296-How he discharged his office of mayor of Bour-
deaux, 300-Antiquity of his family, and a contrasted view of
the manners of his own times and those of his ancestors, 302—
What he thought of the clearest miracles, 311-His judgment
concerning witches, 313, 316-His account of the terrible cala-
mities of the civil wars, in which he was engaged, 326, 330-
How he sustained his misfortunes, 332-Exposed to the ravages
of a violent plague, 335-Why he charged his book with so many
quotations, 346, 347-Proofs of the great advantage which he
derived from his aspect, 352-The simplicity of his intention
discernible in his eyes and language, 356-Never had a suit in
any court of justice, 368-Studied himself more than any other
subject, 369-His fitness for conversing freely with his sovereign,
375, 376-The tendency of his Essays, 377-His course of life
both in sickness and in health, 379, &c.-The customs to which
he was a slave in his old age, 384-The care he took to keep his
body open, 386-Whether well or sick, he indulged his natural
appetites, 387-Why talking was hurtful to him in his sickness,
389-Why he would not seek advice from physicians, 393-
Loved to flatter his imagination in his illness, ib.-Afflicted with
the stone, 398-Was a great sleeper, 401-But corrected that
habit in his latter days, and enjoyed the benefit of it, ib.-His hale
constitution of body, 403-Was not disordered by impressions of
the imagination, 404-His dreams, 405-His diet, 406-His
INDEX.
manner of living from his cradle, 407-Did not love to sit long
at table, 408-The abstinence of which he was capable, 409
His peculiar taste, ib.-Did not eat fish and flesh at the same
meal, 411-Why he sometimes fasted, ib.-Rules which he ob-
served with regard to his clothing, 412-His preference of dinner
to supper, 413-The measure he observed in his liquor, ib.
-His dread of foggy air, 414-Loved cold weather better than
hot, ib.-He had a long sight, but impaired it by study, ib.-He
was too greedy in eating, 415-His judgment respecting the
pleasures of the table, ib.-In what rank he placed the pleasures
of the imagination and those of the body, 417-The use he made
of life, 423 to 431-Six original letters written by him, 433 to
458, (see the article Letters.)
Montaigne (father of the Essayist), his economical regulations, i. 270
-Description of his person and character, 444 to 446-Requests
his son to make a translation of the work of Raimond de Se-
bonde, ii. 43-Was grievously afflicted with the stone, 493–His
humour in the education of his son, iii. 407
Montdore ranked among the best Latin poets, ii. 363
Montferrat, Conrade, marquis of, assassinated, ii. 425
Montmorency, constable de, his death and character, ii. 363
Monuments erected to beasts, ii. 40, 41
'Moon's motion not determined by astrology, iii. 307
Moor bathed and purged to clear his complexion, ii. 506
Moral lectures despised both by the reader and the hearer, iii. 259
Morals, depraved, of the French, iii. 211
Morrow, a new day, considerations on, i. 472, &c.
Mortality and immortality, ii. 170, 211
Mother of a family's best accomplishment, iii. 238
Mothers' natural love to their children very weak, i. 520-Ought
not to have the education of their children, iii. 407
Motion of things below denied, ii. 173
Motives, vicious, destroy the essence of virtue, i. 277
Mourning in white, i. 394-Mourning very improper about sick
persons, iii. 245
Muleasses, king of Tunis, what he reproached his father for, i. 507
Mule, or mulet, much valued in some countries, i. 384
Mules, why favoured by the Athenians, ii. 40-Their mischievous
subtlety, 90
Muley Moluck, king of Fez, when dying, victorious over the Portu-
guese, ii. 384
Mullets, or scare-fish, helping their companions, ii. 100
Multitude's judgment, why contemned, ii. 313
Muretus, a great orator, i. 204
Muscles stirring and trembling after the bodies are dead, i. 488
Muscovy, tributary to the Tartars, i. 386
Muses sacrificed unto by the Lacedæmonians; why, ii. 318
Muses, the sport and pastime of the mind, iii. 35-Their connection
with Venus, 62
Music, of the spheres, i. 110-Martial, iii. 402-Why Alci-
biades banished music from tables, 416
!

INDEX.
Mutes, subtle and active to understand by signs, ii. 63
Mysteries, Jewish and Mahometan, i. 418-Of the Christian reli-
gion, 419-Of piety, ib.
N.
NAKED, what gave rise to the custom of nations going so, i. 271–
Some men, in Turkey, go so for devotion-sake, 272
Naker and shrimp, ii. 101
Names, observations respecting, i. 361 to 368-Some disliked,
others fatally affected to the genealogy of princes, 361-Of an easy
pronunciation, 362-Superb, of the ancient noblesse, 363-The
confusion there is in taking them from lordships, ib.-Going be-
fore, without signification of grandeur, 392–Dispersed into many
mouths, ii. 316
Narcissus in love with his own shadow, ii. 272
Nations, the odd customs of several, i. 113-That sleep and wake
by half years, 358, 359
Native country, what attaches each man to his, i. 121
Nature, its image, i. 180-Its pre-eminence to art, 247-Its
course, 426-Is above art, ii. 65-Is kind to all creatures, 66~~
Its special kindness to man, ib.-Men and animals alike subject to
its laws, 71-Its study, food for the mind, 149-Many things in
it contrary to our rules, 172-Its laws, 252-Its alterations, 284
Obstinate, sensible of no emotion, iii. 46-Debased by cer-
tain Turks, 106—Its necessary demands, how far to be exceeded,
285-Conformity to it is an important precept, 351-Its laws
better than those of men, 859-Has rendered actions that are
necessary, agreeable, 418-Has no need of fortune, 419
Nausiphanes, a disciple of Pyrrho, ii. 173
Naval victory gained over the Turks, i. 262
Navarre, queen of; her heptameron, ii. 32
Necessities of man, why they may a little exceed the demands of
nature, iii. 285
Necessity, natural, its limits, i. 294-Prompts to violent resolu-
tions, 370—Of things that are to come; the doctrine of, ii. 421
Negligence, a vice opposite to curiosity, i. 473
Neorites' treatment of dead bodies, iii. 337
Nero, the bold answer he had from two soldiers, who had conspired
against him, i. 13-His cruelty to his mother, 283-His reluc
tance at signing a death-warrant, 429
Nerva's sacrificing himself in pity to the miserable state of Rome, ↳
465, 466
Nest, the wonderful structure of that of the halcyon, ii. 103
Neutrality in civil wars neither honourable nor honest, ii. 529
New world, reflections on the discovery of, i. 243
News enquired after with great avidity, i. 473
Nicetas, one of the first that asserted the motion of the earth, ii. 238
Nightingales teach their young to sing, ii. 74
Nimbleness of two men at Constantinople, i. 387, 388
Nimrod, his presumption, ii. 214
INDEX.
મ
Ninachetnen, an Indian, his remarkable suicide, i. 465
Niobe, feigned by the poets to have been stupified with grief, and
then petrified, i. 8
Nobility, and blood, i, 146-What, iii. 64Of Calicut, 65
Noblesse of France, their essential profession, i. 499
Noise, no hindrance to men of learning, but a help to study, iii. 382
Nonsense, a contemptible quality, iii. 168-Not to be cured by ad-
monition, 189
Nose, blowing it between the fingers, defended, i, 114
Notre Dame la Grande, at Poictiers, origin of its foundation, i. 362
Noue, M. de la, his character, ii. 363
Novelty, begets ruin, i. 126-Of fatal consequence to young men,
355
Numa's religion, ii. 158
Number counted by oxen, ii. 78-The number of every man's days
prescribed, 423
Numbers, of Pythagoras, ii. 150-Of men, cause of confusion in an
army, 463
Numidian soldiers had a led horse besides what they rode upon,
i. 377
Nuptial bed, i. 100
0.
OATH, taken in the rude school of fencers, ii. 73-Of the judges of
Egypt, 535
Oaths of the ancient philosophers, iii. 101, 102
Obedience, due to kings, i. 12, 13-Dearer to a superior, than any
utility whatsoever, 61-To magistracy, 128-Pure, the first law
of God to man, ii. 113-Due to the laws, 251-Pure, how vio-
lated, 356-To good and bad magistrates, iii. 266
Obligation burdensome to wise men, iii. 227, 228-How wise men
are convinced of it, 281
Obligations, of every kind, in what sense they are done away by
death, i. 31
Oblivion vainly prescribed by philosophy, iii. 123
Obscurity in writers vicious, iii. 267
Obsequies of the Scythian kings, ii. 74
Obstinacy, where most to be seen, i. 176—In faults, ridiculous and
troublesome, iii. 175
Occupation suited to a solitary life, i. 294
#.
Ocean stayed in favour of the Halcyons, . 1038
Oceanus and Thetis, father and mother to the gods, ii. 283
Odours, with the relish of meats, i. 413
Economy a heavy burden, i. 332
Offences should be punished without anger, iii. 283
Office, when badly exercised, iii. 281, 282
Office of Enquiry, project for, i. 269
Offices distinguished by titles too glaring, i. 402, 403-The greatest,
distributed by mere fortune, iii. 181-Those of importance are
not all the hardest, 301
INDEX.
是
​Oil distributed by Hannibal to his soldiers in frosty weather, i. 273
Old age, rarely attainable, i. 426-Pure wine an enemy to, 447—
Liable to contempt, &c. 511-Its comfort, ii. 414-What study
suits it best, 415-Is accompanied with repentance, iii. 16-Re-
quires gay reflections, 50-Travelling not judged unfit for it,
241-Unfit for the writing of books, 348
Old men ought to leave the use of the means to their children, i.
507-Deceived by their wives, and by their domestics, 513, 514
-Their wisdom, iii. 18-Should be present at the exercises of
young people, why, 52-Should take every opportunity of en-
joying pleasure, 53-Begging of God a vigorous health, ridicu-
lous, 391
Opinion, concerning good and evil, i. 308-Espoused at the expense
of life, 312-Gives weight and value to things, 325
Opinions of Montaigne regulated by books of solidity, ii. 8—New,
rejected, why, 237, 238-Men wedded to their own, iii. 309-
The truest are not always the most commodious, 317
Oracles ceased before the coming of Jesus Christ, i. 44-Speaking
in a double and obscure sense, iii. 363
Orange, prince of, his assassination, ii. 423
Orator melted into tears by the passion he represents, iii. 47-How
he may give importance to the silly things he chooses to speak,
178
Orchard of ripe apples inclosed within the Roman camp, left un-
touched to the possessor, iii. 328
Order of St. Michael, formerly of high esteem in France, i. 496;
ii. 247
Orders of knighthood instituted to reward military virtue, i. 495
Ordinances, divine, ought to be judged soberly of, i. 260, &c.
Origen, why he abandoned himself to idolatry, iii. 59

Orlando and Sacrapante, i. 528
Orlando Furioso, character of, ii. 8 ·
Orthography and pointing little esteemed, iii. 224
Osorius, a Latin historian, of no mean talents, i. 313
Ostorius's suicide, ii. 291
Ostracism and Petalism, ii. 443
Ostriches harnessed to the coach of Heliogabalus, iii. 137
Otanez, on what condition he quitted his claim to Persia, iii. 160
Otho, the emperor's sleep before his suicide, i. 356
Ottoman race not to be trusted, ii. 345
Ovid, his Metamorphoses, i. 205-Montaigne's opinion of him, ii. 5
Ox, an old servant, favoured by its master, ii. 41
Oxen ridden with saddles, stirrups, and bridles, i. 385-Serving in
the royal gardens of Susa, that knew numbers, ii. 78
PÆDAGOGUES ridiculed, i. 196
P.
Pages brought up in good families, as in a school of nobles, iii. 113
Pain, principally feared in death, i. 317-The worst evil of our be-
ing, how it may be mitigated, ib.-Suffered with impatience, 319
.9
INDEX.
-Of child-bearing, by whom easily supported, 320- Endured
with obstinacy, 321-Voluntarily endured to get credit, 322-On
what the notion of pain is founded, 334-Preferred to pleasure,
451-Accounted an indifferent thing by the Stoics, ii. 269, 270
-Joined with pleasure, 377-Complaint, in the agony of it, to
be freely indulged, 489-Vehement, even to perfection, in the
soul of the saints by repentance, iii. 125-Its alliance with plea,
sure, 423
Painter's craft, in representing the sacrifice of Iphigenia, i. 7
Painting, its excellencies often produced by mere fortune, i. 137
Paladins, iii. 162
Palate-science, pleasantly bantered, i. 401
Pallas and the Muses tally well with Venus, iii. 62
Panatius's answer to a youth, who asked him, whether it became a
wise man to be in love? iii. 123
Panic terrors, awful effects produced by, i. 65, 66
Panthea, Cyrus's captive, her beauty, iii. 294
Paracelsus, ii. 239
Paradise of Mahomet, ii. 160
Parchment-scrolls tied about the neck of Pericles, ii. 523
Parents, love of, to their children, treated at large, i. 499 to 525
-Their affection to their children greater than that of their
children to them, 501-What their love to their children ought
to be, 502-Their dead bodies eaten by their children, ii. 253-
Their indiscretion, who punish their children in too much pas-
sion, 423
Parians and Milesians, i. 437
Paris's amour fatal to all Asia, ii. 93
Paris, the stench of its mud, i. 413-Commendation of it, iii. 234
Parleys, time of, dangerous, i. 28
Parmenides's opinion of the Deity, ii. 155, 173
Parricide oddly discovered, i. 476
Parthians performed on horseback all they had to do, i. 379-Their
armour, considerations on, 526 to 580
Pasicles, the immodesty of that philosopher, i. 391
Passaro siege, when the inhabitants were advised to kill themselves,
i. 461
Passengers made use of for judges, iii. 359
Passion, missing its object, recoils on the subject, i. 21-Makes
objects to itself, ib.
Passions of mankind too much amused by inanimate things, i. 22—
Philosophers not blameable for being overcome by the first starts
of them, 52-Mankind subject to different ones, 282—Of the sou!,
have no pleasure in external conveniences, 346-Unjust, gratified
under the cloke of religion, ii. 48—Of the soul, 119, 234-The
best way to cure them, iii. 44, 45-The most violent, raised by
trifling causes, 296, 297
Pastime, the learning of the Greek language made one, i. 204-
Pastimes of the Americans, 249-Pastime, and passing away the
time, what is, iii. 423
Pastimes of youth should engage the attention of old men, iii, 52
VOL. III.
LL
INDEX.
Pater-noster, a good prayer for a Christian, i. 414
Patience, wonderful, of some peasants in the civil wars of France,
ii. 442-Requisite in things that cannot be avoided, iii. 392
Patient, the confidence he ought to have in his physician, i. 103
Patients, advised to confide in their physician, ii. 502-Recom-
mended to vows, miracles, and hot waters, 522
St. Paul, his desire of death, i. 469-What he thought of the un-
known God of the Athenians, ii. 153
Paulinus, bishop of Nola, his prayer, after that city was taken, and
his house plundered, i. 289, 290
Paulus Æmilius's feast, i. 402
Pausanias, his destruction by his mother, i. 235-Made drunk by
Attalus, 441
Paxea, a Roman lady, why she put herself to death, i. 465
Peasants and philosophers, i. 409
Pedagogues, story of, i. 196
Pedant, the pleasant answer of one, i. 196
Pedants despised by men of sense, i. 144-Difference between mo-
dern pedants and the ancient philosophers, 146-Their true cha-
racter, 152
Peers, ecclesiastical, obliged to assist the king in war, i. 338
Pegu, its inhabitants always go barefooted, i. 273—Its women's
petticoats, iii. 78
Pelagia canonized for avoiding ravishment by suicide, i. 463
Peloponnesian war, iii. 38
Penitence requires penance, i. 32
Perfumes, used by the ancients to a degree of effeminacy, i. 390---
Exotic, create a suspicion, 411
Periander's extravagant extent of his conjugal love, iii. 111
Perseus, a disciple of Zeno, his gods, ii. 157
Perseus, king of Macedon, his character, iii. 374
Perseverance, its good effects, i. 1
Persia, fourteen young men of, buried alive by the superstitious
zeal of Amestris, mother of Xerxes, ii. 165
Persian kings, how long they kept their wives at their feasts, i. 238
-Severity of the Persian laws moderated, ii. 85
Persians, how they instructed their children, i. 157-When they
chose to hold councils, 443-Honoured their enemies for virtue,
ii. 360
Persuasion of certainty, ii. 195-Its natural progress, iii. 310
Perturbations, how far allowed by the Stoics to their philosophers,
i. 52
Peru, how its last king was treated by the Spaniards, iii. 153, 158
-The magnificence of its works, 157
Peruvian king's excessive ransom, iii. 153
Petits-maîtres painted to the life by Seneca, iii. 25
Petronius's refusal of life from Scipio, ii. 465—His manner of dy-
ing, iii. 252
Phalarica, a weapon of the ancient Italians, its use, i. 381
Pharax stops the king of Lacedæmon from his pursuit of a routed
corps, i. 370
INDEX.
Pharsalia, battle of, i. 373
Phaulius, of Argos, yields his wife to the lust of king Philip, iii. 90
Phidias's fondness for his statues, i. 525
Philip, king, his reproof of his son Alexander, för endeavouring to
bribe the Macedonians, iii. 143-Built a city on purpose for the
most wicked inhabitants, 212-His atonement for an unjust sen-
tence, 366
Philippides, the wise answer he made to king Lysimachus, ii. 531
Philistus's self-murder, ii. 384
Philodoxes of Plato, ii. 196
Philopomen, why commended by Plutarch, i. 131-His encounter
with Machanidas, 359
Philosophers, not blameable for yielding to the first attacks of the
passions, i. 52-Whether philosophers and divines ought to write
history, 106-Their opinions and singularities exposed them to
ridicule, 145-Difference between the ancient philosophers and
modern pedants, 146-Their great thirst for fame, 335-The me-
thod they took for attaining superior excellence, 481-Affected
obscurity, ii. 143-Their contradictions, 145-Compared to mid-
wives, 146-Whether they were serious in treating of the divine
hierarchy, and the soul's immortality, 159, 160: and in treating
of knowledge, 203-Different sects, 250
Philosophers-stone approved, ii. 260
Philosophical uncertainty, how determinable, ii. 197
Philosophizing, what it is, i. 452
Philosophy, what the study of it is, 1. 70-What it is, according
to Cicero, ib.; and Plato, 172-Rules human actions, 181-De-
spised with men of understanding, why, 184-Should be taught
to children, 186, 187-Is the formatrix of judgment and manners,
189-Consists in practice, 194-Its prescription for the oblivion
of past troubles, ii. 123A proof of its weakness, 125, 126-
Divided into three kinds, 135–True idea of it, 150, 151-Áll
we know of natural philosophy, 188, 194-A falsified poesy, 189
-Full of vanity and dreams, 203–Á secret medicine for troubled
minds, 398-What kind proper för women, iii. 26-Its dignity
spoiled by weak minds, 180-Its foundation, progress, and end,
312-Its childish opinion concerning pleasures, 426, 427
Philotas's banter upon Alexander, ill. 430
Philoxenus's resentment against those that did not read his works
well, ii. 271, 272
Phoenix, how engendered, ii. 162
Phryne, the courtezan, how she corrupted her judges, iii. 350
Physic, on what its success is founded, i. 136-What it is groufided
on, ii. 494-An enemy to health, 496-Unknown to many na-
tions, 497-Mystery very necessary for it, 502-When and by
whom brought into repute, 504Of Hierophilus, Themison,
Thessalus, Crinas of Marseilles, Vexius Valens, and Charinas,
504, 505-Practised at Rome by foreigners, 505-Despised by
many physicians, as to their own use of it, 517-The art of, iii.
378; its uncertainty, 389-Pleasant and grateful, 391

LL 2
INDEX.
Physician, confidence in him contributes to the cure of the patient,
i. 103-Should gain the confidence of his patient, ii. 502-Should
be but one to one sick person, 503-Plato's sentiments concern-
ing the qualifications of one, iii. 378
Physicians, whether they do most good or harm, and how they ex-
cuse their miscarriages, ii. 499, 506, 507-Their success enlight-
ened by the sun, their failures covered by the earth, 500-Liable
to answer for their mistakes, 501-The uncertainty of their sci-
ence, 504 to 508, 510-Their promises generally not to be de-
pended on, 508-Peculiar to every person, and every part of the
body, among the Egyptians, 509-Of worth, ought to be ho-
noured, 516-Why men trust to them, 517-As many in number
as men, 518-Are the pest of a country, iii. 360-Compared to
painters and town-criers, 378
Physiognomy, remarks on, iii. 320 to 357-Advantages of, not so
directly founded on fine features, 351-Whether any assurance
may be derived from it, ib.
Phyton's great courage, under the cruelty of Dionysius, i. 4
Pigeons taught to carry letters, ii. 387
Pirates, clemency of Julius Cæsar towards them, ii. 33
Piso, Lucius, the Roman general, his character, i. 440-His pas-
sionate temper, ii. 432
Pistol, not to be relied on so much as a sword in set battles, i. 380
Pittacus, the greatest plague he had in his life, iii. 94
Pity banishes enmity, i. 2-Reputed a vice among the Stoics, 3
Place not defensible by the rules of war, i. 55—Of honour, amongst
the ancients, 392
Plagiarism of modern writers, a certain indication of their poverty
of genius, i. 163
Plague, cruel, in Gascony, and in Montaigne's house, iii. 335
Plancus libelled by Asinius Pollio, ii. 402
Planets worshipped, ii. 156-Their conjunction that produced great
alterations, iii. 157
Plato, his great precept, i. 12-Misunderstood by Montaigne, in a
certain passage, 48-His reprimand of a boy, for playing with
nuts, 111-His banquet, 190-Was a true philosopher, 194-
The rank in which he placed human benefits, 331-Surnamed
Divine, 403-How many servants he kept, 404-His notion of
the credenda, injurious to the gods, 415-His dialogues, 518;
ii. 11-His doctrine of the immortality of the soul, attended with
ill effects, 50-A gross error of his, to what owing, 52-His ideas
and real sentiments, 146-Author of ten sects, ib.-Philoso-
phizing in dialogues, 147-His character as legislator, 151-
Describing Pluto's verger, 160-Originally descended from the
gods, 182-His parents, ib.-Refuses a perfumed robe, 254-
His check of himself in a passion, 432-His law respecting mar-
riage rites, iii. 116-The talents he required in the examination
of another man's soul, 375-His definition of a true physi-
cian, 378
Plautus not comparable with Terence, ii. 6
INDEX.
Plays of children, i. 111-May be acted by princes, 208-Plays and
public spectacles to humour people, iii. 143, 144
Pleasure, the aim and fruit of virtue, i. 71—What is the last that
man is capable of enjoying, 446-Epicurean, nourishes virtue,
ii. 24-Its strongest impressions resisted, 32-Fixed in insensibi-
lity of pain, 121-Internal, 367-Extreme, mixed with groaning,
377-Constant and universal, insupportable to men, 378-Ex-
cusing sin, iii. 11-Excessively lascivious, hinders conception, 64
-Aided both by the mind and body, 125-Has no taste without
communication, 255-Painful at the bottom, 278-That of the
mind to be preferred to that of the body, 427-Married with ne-
cessity, ib.
Pleasures should be avoided, even at the expense of life, i. 263, &c.
Wheedle and caress to strangle, 297-Not so easily to be en-
joyed by kings as by private men, 347-Natural, allowed, if mo-
derate, iii. 125-Provided by nature for men, 416-Pure, of the
imagination, the greatest, 417-Corporeal, of what power, 418
-Human, enjoyed by the greatest men, 419
Plenty and indigence depend upon opinion, i. 342
Pliny the Younger, his delicate and sprightly judgment, i. 212—
His advice, as to solitude, unjustly criticized, 295, 296-His
ambition, 300-Why he published his Epistles, 301
Plurality of worlds, no new opinion, ii. 170
Plutarch, a favourite writer with Montaigne, i. 162-Amyot's tran-
slation, 363, 472-His character, ii. 9, 14-His regard for an ox
that had long served him, 41-His opinion of the virtuous, 218
-Remarks on good-nature and equity, 429-Reproached for
anger by a slave of his, 431—Accused of ignorance and falsity,
and his defence, 438, &c.-Universal and copious, iii. 100
'Poetic raptures, or sallies, i. 137
Poetry, fortune has a great share in its flights, i. 137-Its effects,
162-Recommended to youth, 192-Invention is its principal
part, 199—Gay, 233-Above rules and reason, 277-What sort
of poetry Montaigne preferred, 280-Of an odd taste, 406-Of
several sorts, 410-The sort allowed by Plato, ii. 151-Com-
mended, 327-In fashion in Montaigne's time, 363-Allowed
to women, iii. 26—Armed with love, 63
Poets, lyric, i. 188; and rhimers, 198-In greater number than
judges of poetry, 279-Of all sorts of artificers, the fondest of their
own works, 523, 524-Of the first rank, ii. 5, 6—Comic, 7—
Presuming on their works, 327, 328-That excel among the
French, 363-Pour out with fury whatever comes into their
mouth, iii. 268
Poison kept at Marseilles, for those that would destroy themselves,
i. 470-Taken by a lady in public, 471
Pol, Pierre, the odd figure he always made on horseback, í. 382
Polemon, the philosopher, his reformation, ii. 362-His just prose-
cution by his wife, iii. 72
Poles wound themselves, to give a sanction to their word, i. 323
Policy, excellent, of the American savages, i. 248-Human, sup-
ported by vice, ii. 525
INDEX

Political states as crazy as the human body, ii. 388
Politics of king Edward the Third of England, ii. 389
Pollex, the Latin word for thumb, its etymology, ii. 398,
Pollio, his libel against Plancus, when he was dead, ii. 402Why
he did not write against Augustus who had satirized him, iii. 165
Polycrates, tyrant of Samos, ii. 167
Polypode, a fish that changes its colour, ii. 85
Pompeia Paulina, her love for Seneca, her husband, ii. 471, 472
Pompey pardons a whole city on the account of one man's virtue,
i. 4-His head presented to Cæsar, 281-His soldiers reproached
by Cæsar, 369-Was a skilful rider, 378-Beaten in Spain by
Sertorius, ii. 94, 95-Too severely censured by Tacitus, iii. 195
His war with Cæsar, 291
Popticus Heraclides's wavering opinion of the Deity, ii. 156
Poor in the midst of riches, i. 329
Poppea, why she invented a mask, ii. 300
Portraiture, the art of, much under the control of fortune, i. 137
Portuguese cruelty, i. 252-Driven from a town they besieged by
swarms of bees, ii. 95-Portuguese wines heady, iii. 380
Possession of money, a trouble, i. 329, 330-Of ourselves, iii.
228, 229
Possibility and impossibility, false measure of, ii. 442
Possidonius, the Stoic, his triumph over pain, ii. 116, 117
Post-horses, first set up by Cyrus, ii. 386-Used by the Romans, 387
Posthumius, the dictator, whether he put his son to death, i. 235
Potidæa, battle of, i. 277
Pourcontrel, a fish that assumes any colour, ii. 85
Poverty, what in it to be feared, i. 317-Sought after, 326, 327-
Obstinate, ii. 484-Affected by Crates, iii. 209-Of some philo-
sophers, 285-Maintained at the public expense, 343


Power content with limits, iii. 20
Practice cannot give assistance in dying, i. 481
Præstantius, a juggler, mentioned by St. Augustine, iii. 316 & Note
Praise, accompanied with natural sweetness, ii. 314-Always pleas-
ing, iii. 223
Praises of great men, i. 302-Particular, rejected, 336-Given
after death, to what purpose, iii. 48
Praxiteles's statue of Venus, how it captivated a youth, iii. 110
Prayer, considerations on the subject, i. 413 to 425-Form of, dic-
tated to us by God himself, 414-The soul, in the use of, ought
to be free from impurity, 415-Prayer, for fashion's sake merely,
is highly blameable, 416—Of him who persists in evil habits, ib.
-Requires great calmness and composure of soul, 422How
abused, 424
Prayers of Socrates, &c. ii. 247, &c.
Preaching, slow speaking requisite for, i. 41
Precedence either of walking or sitting, iii. 247
Precept, the great one of Plato, i. 12
Predestination, the doctrine of, maintained by the Bedoïns, ii.
· 321, 422-Gives assurance to the Turks, 423
Pre-existence of the soul, opinions respecting,. ii, 207
INDEX.
Pregnancy of women, its time undetermined, ii. 220
Pregnant women, i. 238
Preparation for speaking, unnecessary to some orators, i. 42-For
death indispensably necessary, 80
Presents, an affront not to receive them, iii. 229
Presumption, natural and original disease of men, ii. 56, 61-Men't
inheritance, 114-What it is, 322, &c.-Divided into two parts,
325-Nursing-mother of false opinions, 326
Pride dwells in the thought, i. 494-Is the ruin of men, ii. 129
Priest that cured all sorts of diseases by words and gestures, ii. 310
Prince, whether he had best wait to be invaded by an enemy, or to
go forth and attack him upon his own ground, i. 373, 374, 375,
376-Ought to be himself in the field, f. 381-How he ought to
die, ib.-One who was not to be discomposed by accidents,
iii. 283
Princes, the reasonableness of the law which orders their conduct
to be inquired into after their deaths, i. 12-Ceremony at their
interview, 53-The unhappiness of those princes who are too
mistrustful, 139-All their real advantages are common with
those of men of middle rank, 351-Ought to despise silks and
gold, 353-The qualities that are most useful to them, ii. 343
-Should not be tricksters, 344, 345-Should be active and
sober, 383-In what case excusable for the breach of their word,
539-Their favours, by whom despised, iii. 295
Principles, natural, difference of opinions respecting them, ii. 194
-Not to be admitted without examination, ib.-Those of Aris-
totle in vogue, 238
Printing, in China, iii. 148
Prisoners, how used by the Barbarians, i. 251—The constant reso-
lution of some, 256
Prize of eloquence refused by Tiberius, why, iii. 164
Production of all things, i. 247
Profession of a person setting himself up for a writer, diligently
sought after by Montaigne, i. 60
Profit of one man, a loss to another, i. 109-Considerations on pro-
fit and honesty, ii. 524 to 545
Prognostication, vain and superstitious, i. 44-Abolished by the
Christian religion, ib.
Prometheus's deficiency in the formation of mankind, iii. 50
Promise, of a private man, may in one case only be broken, ii. 542
Promises, when they may be lawfully broken, ii. 539, 542—Ought
to be strictly observed, iii. 226
Pronunciation gives value to works, left to the efficacy of the voice,
ii. 271
Prophesying faculty, i. 451
Prophet, no man accounted such in his own country, ik ▼
Prophets and priests punished for their false sayings, i. 251
Prose of former times, iii. 267, 268
Prosperity, a better instructress in wisdom and moderation, than
adversity, iii. 199
INDEX.
Protagoras, a great doubter, ii. 155, 173-Was an ingenious fag-
got-maker, 351, Note
Protogenes, the painter, made the true likeness by mere chance,
which he could not effect by art, i. 267
Proverb, an old one, iii. 317
Proximity lessens not defects, iii. 228
Proximus's suicide, i. 464
Prudence surpassed by fortune, i. 268-What it is, according to
Plato, 371, 372
Psalms of David, indiscreet use of them interdicted, i. 417
Psammenitus, king of Egypt, unmoved in the extremity of sorrow,
. i. 7.
+
Punctuation overlooked by Montaigne in his writings, iii. 224
Punishment connate with sin, i. 476-Follows close to sin, ib.—In a
future life, ii. 163-Of wicked men shows the goodness of the
judge, iii. 357
Punishments, why they should be inflicted, iii. 165
Pupil and tutor, i. 168
Pure wine, an enemy to old age, i. 447
Purgatory of a new sort, ii. 244
Purges, medicinal, ii. 498
Purity of soul requisite in our prayers to God, i. 415
Pygmalion enamoured of his statue, i. 525; ii. 273
Pyrrho and his hog, ii. 117-His vain attempt to conform his life to
his doctrine, 416
-Pyrrhonians, their profession, ii. 135-Their ignorance, 136-Their
common style, 139-Their common behaviour, 140-At a loss
for words to represent their opinion, 175
Pyrrhonism, its advantage, ii. 136-More defensible than the opi-
nion of the Academics, 226
Pyrrhus, what he said when he saw the Roman army, i. 242-His
head presented to Antigonus, 281-His vain ambition, 352—
What befel him in his engagement with the consul Levinus, 372
Pythagoras, his answer to a prince, who asked him, what science
he professed? i. 195-Diverted a company of rakes from plunder,
by the power of music, 362-His transmigration of souls, ii. 37,
&c. His idea of God, 153
Q.
QUALITIES, unsuitable, bring no honour to a man, i. 302-Sickly,
of our being, ii. 525
Quarrels for trifles, cause of great ruins, iii. 296, 297-Should not
be engaged in without deliberation, 297-Most accommodations
of, scandalous, 298
Quartilla's bad memory, iii. 388
Question for a friend, ii. 256
Quintessence of real friendship, i. 223
St. Quintin, battle of, i. 368
Quito, the magnificent road from it to Cusco, iii. 157
9
INDEX,
R.
?
RABELAIS's character, ii. 4
Rack, its inconveniences, i. 479-Why condemned by several na-
tions, 480
Raimond de Sebonde, apology for him, ii, 41 to 286—Character of
his Theologia Naturalis, 42-That work translated into French by
Montaigne, 43-Objections made to the work, answered by Mon-
taigne, 44 His work vindicated from the charge of containing
no depth of argument, 55
Raimond, count of Tripoli, assassinated, ii. 425
Rain, god of, ii. 243
Ram in love with Glaucia, ii. 90
Rank in life, how we are imposedon by it, iii. 184
Ransom, excessive, of the king of Peru, iii. 153
Rapier and cloak, fighting with, i. 389
Rashness in judgment, i. 209-Rashness blamed in a general,
ii. 462
Rasias, his suicide, i. 462, 463
Reading, of letters and tickets, ought not to be deferred, i. 473-
A third sort of conversation, iii. 32-Of history, good and profit-
able at all times, 179
Reason, human, i. 113-Has fortune sometimes in its train, 265–
Should not be the basis of a Christian's belief, ii. 44-Controller
of all things, 196-A test full of falsity, 197-True and essen-
tial, abides in the bosom of God, ib.-What it is, 231-Ought to
be followed, 314-Sovereign of the soul, 447
Recommendation, whence it should proceed, i. 407
Recreation fit for youth, i. 190
Reflection necessary in actions, iii. 287
Reformations, external, iii. 10-Of states, 215
Refusal of a present, injurious, iii. 228.
Reggio, city of, taken by Dionysius, i. 3, 4
Regulations, laudable, of Montaigne's father, i. 270
Regulus, his parsimony, i. 403-More courageous than Cato, 455
His great high-life, iii. 160
Relaxation not unbecoming the greatest hero, iii. 420
Relics of St. Hilary, Gervase, and Protasius, i. 212, 213
Religion, persecutions on account of, i. 312, 313-Ought not to be
received after human manners, ii. 47-Made the tool to serve the
most unjust passions, ib.-Whether it be lawful to take arms
against a king for it, 48-Foundation of the Christian religion, 51
What minds are best disposed to submit to it and the rules of
government, 141-What is the most probable opinion concerning
it, 152-The necessity of one for the people, 153-According to
Apollo's oracle, 251-The Christian, acquires no authority from
events, i. 261-The foundation of its profession, ii. 51
Religious zeal extravagant and unjust, ii. 371
Remedies more troublesome than the disease, iii. 387
Remedy, a pleasant one, for an evil of the imagination, i. 97
INDEX.
Remonstrances, philosophical, their irrelevancy, iii. 259
Remora, a fish said to be capable of stopping a ship, ii. 84
René, king of Sicily's picture, drawn by himself, ii. 353
Renown, present, to be preferred to that after death, ii. 521
Repartees, their usefulness, iii. 190
Repentance, what it consists in, i. 417-Of an elephant, ii. 102—
Following the sin, iii. 6-What it is, ib.-Commonly corrupt, 11
Of the Stoics, 13-Is not concerned in things that are not in
our power, ib.-True, what is, ib.-Whence produced, 17, 18
-Hateful, which old age brings, 46
Repetition troublesome, iii. 220
Reports, common, how to be dissipated, iii. 45
Repose and glory, things that are incompatible, i. 298
Reproaches against the enemy, allowed in a siege, i. 371-Redound
upon those that throw them, il 177
Reputation, of wicked princes, should suffer after death, i. 12-So-
licited, 335-Abandoned, 336-Accidental, ii. 311-Set at too
high a price, 314
Resemblance of children with their parents, ii. 206, 486, &c.
Resolution and constancy, their usefulness, i. 1, 50—An extraordi-
nary one, 143-Sudden, produced extraordinary actions, ii.
417
Retirement, the constitutions fittest for it, i. 294-What are the es-
sentials of it, 298 (See also the article Solitude.)-The good use
of it, iii. 27-Its pleasures, 205, &c.
Revelation assures us of the soul's immortality, ii. 215
Revenge, against inanimate creatures, i. 22—Of a king, against God,
23-Of Augustus, against Neptune, ib.-Of the Thracians,
against heaven, 24-Sought after to the danger of life, ii. 221-
When of no effect, 401-Sweet passion, and of great impression,
how diverted, iii. 43-Taken on a woman in lying with her,
112
Reward of virtuous actions grounded upon the approbation of
others, iii. 3.
Rewards, honorary, considerations on, i. 495 to 499–Of honour
and of riches, 495, &c.-And punishments in another life, on what
founded, ii. 163-After this life, relatively to human duration, 208
Rhetoric, definition of the art of, i. 399, 400-Is at best but a de-
ceitful art, 399
Rich man, who is he, i. 327
Riches, contempt of, i. 119, 332-Accumulated by prudence, 329
-How to avoid the trouble of them, 333-Despised, ii. 30, &c.
-Of the Americans, of little revenue to the prince, iii. 156—Soli-
citude about them savours of avarice, 211
Riders on horseback, wonderful instances of their dexterity, i. 387,
388
Riding, a very wholesome exercise, i. 378-Riding the great horse,
the only true exercise of the sons of princes, iii. 162
Rigour of mistresses irksome, but their facility more so, ii. 300
Ring, platonic, its virtues, ii. 315
Risibility attributed to beasts, ii. 70
INDEX.
Rivers obnoxious to changes, i. 244
Robe, perfumed, refused by Plato, accepted by Aristippus, ii. 254
Roman infantry, their armour and military discipline, i. 528, 529-
Grandeur, ii. 393, &c.-Senate's violation of a treaty of its own
making, 541-State, its destiny, iii. 217, 218-Soldiers suffocated
with their own hands after the battle of Cannæ, 337
។
Romans, their manner of fighting duels, i. 389—Their effeminacy,
390-Their luxury, ib.-Their spunges, baths, ice-wines, and
fish-pools, 391, &c.-Their way of complimenting their great men,
393 Their custom of paying their watermen, ib.-What side of
the bed their wives lay on, ib.-The ladies' manner of drinking
or rather dashing their wines, and their colour of mourning, 394
-Their eloquence, 400-Why they went to war, ii. 389Why
they restored the kingdoms they conquered, 394-Whether pre-
ferable to the Greeks, 444-Why they denied triumphs to the ge-
nerals who obtained great victories, iii. 182
Rome, the common and universal city, iii. 269, 271-Its great men,
and ruins, 270

Ronsard, the French poet, ii. 363
Royalty, the meaning of the word at Ephesus, i. 147-Challenges
respect, not the king, 349, 350-Stifles and consumes all the
other true and essential qualities, iii. 163, 164
Roytelets, an appellation given by Cæsar to the lords of France, i.
349
Rumours, how dissipated, iii. 45
S.
SARINUS, a Roman, who thought himself learned, because he kept
learned men in pay, i. 150, & Note-His wife's private delivery
of twins, 320, 321
Sacrifice of men to appease the deity, ii. 165—Of children to Sa-
turn, 166
Sacrifices of human bodies, i. 241-Those of Alexander to Thetis,
ii. 164
Saddle-horses, or pads, despised by the Swedes, i. 383
Sais, city of, its antiquity, ii. 242
Salic law, excluding women from the succession to the crown of
France, i. 519
Salisbury, William earl of, taken at the battle of Bouvines, i. 338
Sallads, according to their seasons, i. 401
Sallust, ii. 14, 332
Salona, garrison of, its fidelity, ii. 465
Salutation, by kissing, i. 390
Salutations and congees humble and courteous, ii. 324
Saluting, the custom of, robs kisses of their charms, ii. 109
Samos, ambassadors of, i. 197
Sancho, king of Navarre, surnamed Trembling, i. 407
Sarmatian ladies, when allowed to lie with a man, iii. 113
Satisfaction after death, of no avail, i. 32
INDEX.
Saturn had the children of the Carthaginians immolated at his al-
tars, ii. 166
Saturninus, what he said to the soldiers when they chose him to be
their general, iii. 264
Savages, American, in what sense barbarians, i. 247-Their policy
and climate, manners and customs, 248 to 260—Answer made by
one of them to Montaigne, 259-Brought into France, ii. 82
Sauces, i. 401
Saying and doing should go together, ii. 429
Scava, the many strokes he received upon his buckler, in sustain-
ing an attack, ii. 465
Scævola's constancy, i, 321
Scanderbeg, how his fury was appeased by a soldier who had pro-
voked him, i. 2
•
Scare-fish, ii. 100
Sceptre, a heavy burden, king Seleucus's opinion of it, i. 346
Schoolmasters, how they ought to behave themselves in teaching
scholars, i. 190, 191
Schools and classes, i. 190-Schools interdicted to the Christians,
ii. 372
Science, what the noblest, i. 159-Damps courage, 160-Of a mar-
vellous use, 167-Man's immoderate pursuit of, iii. 322—Natu-
ral, sufficient to live easily, 323-Sophisticated, 338
Sciences ought early to be inculcated in the minds of children, i. 183
-Sterility of some sciences, 297-Established by authority, ii.
223-Treat of things too finely, iii. 99-Strangely abused, 173
-The most terrestrial and low, 430
Scipio, the reputation he acquired by his death, i. 69-His confi-
dence in a Barbarian, and his intrepidity, 140-His great acts,
due in part to Lælius, 337
Scipio Æmilianus, his confidence in his innocence, i. 478-His high
spirit, ib. His reprimand of his soldiers in a siege, 528-Was
the first man among the Romans, ii. 485—Was a great sleeper,
iii. 401
•
Scipio, the grandfather, his playing at quoits with Lælius censured,
iii. 420
Scipio and Lælius, the writers of Terence's comedies, i. 302
Scratching, sweet gratification of nature, iii. 403
Scribblers, French, iii. 98-Impertinent and foolish, ought to be
punished as well as vagabonds and idle persons, 198
Scribbling, sign of a disordered and licentious age, iii. 198
Scribonia's advice to her nephew to kill himself, 462
Scriptures, sacred, whether they ought to be translated and put into
the hands of the vulgar, i. 417, 418-Miracles recorded in, iii. 313
Scythian kings' funerals, ii. 74-Scythian women made use of their
slaves, having first put out their eyes, iii. 86, 87
Scythians' excuse for declining a battle, i. 51-Used to burn their
false prophets, 251-Their weapons and manner of fighting, ib.—
Eat their prisoners, and why, ib.-Drank the blood of their
horses, in extremity, 384.
INDEX.
Sea-hares, poison to man, ii. 277
Sea-sickness, cause of it, iii. 133
Seasons for all things, ii. 412, &c.
Sebastian, king of Portugal, the famous battle between him and
Muley Moluck, ii. 384, &c.
Sebonde, Raimond de; see Raimond de Sebonde
Sechel, George, his punishment, ii. 412
Seconds in duels, ii. 403
Secrets, kept after a full dose of liquor, i, 440—Of princes trouble-
some burdens, ii. 531
Sects of different opinions, ii. 216, 217, &c.—Divided, one for the
body, and the other for the soul, 333, &c.
Security of a place how known, iii. 218
Seed, how it becomes prolific, ii. 220-Bearing the impressions of
the parents, 492
སྐ་
Sejanus's daughter ravished by her executioner, ii. 538
Seleucus, king, the little account he made of royalty, i. 346
~Self-love indiscreet, i. 494
Self-murder, i. 241
Selima the First, what he thought of victories gained in the absence
of the sovereign, ii. 382
Seneca, a favourite writer with Montaigne, i. 162-His extraordi-
nary advice to a friend about life, 263-His works compared
with those of Plutarch, ii. 9-Defended, 437, &c.-Compared
with the cardinal of Lorrain, 437—Account of him and Pau-
lina his wife, their loves and deaths, 471 to 476-His efforts in
preparing for death, iii. 324, 325-His diet for a whole year, 382
Sensations of beasts, free and natural, i. 319
Sense, its force and effects, ii. 276—The justest dividend of nature's
favours, 357
Senses judge of pain, i. 316—Are the beginning and end of human
knowledge, ii. 263-Uncertain and false in their operations, 270
-Often masters of our reason, ib.-How they deceive us, 271,
273-Altered by the passions of the soul, 275-Hinder one ano-
ther, 279-The uncertainty of our judgment respecting their
operation, ib.-Proper judges, iii. 178
Sensibility, accompanied by health and vigour, ii. 120
Sensuality vicious and unreasonable, ii. 31
- Sentences more criminal than the crimes themselves, iii. 366
Serapis, the Egyptian idol, ii. 159
Serenity of mind, a mark of wisdom, i. 185
Sertorius, how he dislodged his enemy from an inaccessible post,
ii. 95
Servants hanged for betraying their master, ii. 537
Servitude, voluntary, i. 215
Servius the grammarian, tormented with the gout, i. 454
Severity of the colleges, i. 191-Enemy to education, 192
Severus Cassius spoke best extempore, i. 42, 43
Sextilia, a Roman lady, her suicide, i. 465
Shades of the Persians, iii. 237
Shame, excessive, has been the cause of death, i. 11
INDEX.
Shrimp and naker, ii. 101
Sick at Babylon brought out of doors for the public advice, ii. 517,
518
Sick persons, how they ought to behave, iii. 249
Sickness not to be counterfeited, ii. 395, &c.
Sight grossly deceives us, ii. 395, &c.-Altered, and its effects, 277
-Lost by one in sleep, 397
Silence and modesty, their advantage in conversation, i. 175-8i-
lence very profitable to those that govern, iii. 181
Silk clothes, when out of fashion in France, i. 353
Silkworms, how produced, ii. 162
Silvanus's suicide, i. 464
Similitude, perfect, not to be found in two eggs, iii. 358
1
Simplicity, its advantage, ii. 128-Cousin-german to folly, iii. 342
Sincerity ought to be inculcated to children, i. 176—Should always
be observed in commerce with the women, iii. 29
Sin closely attended by punishment, i. 476
Singing-girl rode with Mark Antony in his chariot through the
streets of Rome, iii. 137
Sins, the confounding them, a dangerous thing, i. 439-Impetuous
and sudden, iii. 12-Of complexion and profession, 13
Sire, remarks concerning that title, i. 407
Skin, fresh and delicate, how kept so, i. 322-The skin of man, suf-
ficiently proof against weather, ii. 67
Slave thrown from the Tarpeian rock for his treachery, ii. 537
Sleep, observations respecting it, i. 356 to 359—Profound, instances
of, 356, 357, 358-Is the image of death, 483-What it is, ac-
cording to Zeno, ii. 212-Without dreams, sweet, iii. 343-Long,
not wholesome, 401-Disturbed, to be the better relished, 424.
Slings, i. 381
Sloth censured, ii. 381, &c.
Slowness of speaking necessary in a preacher, i. 41
Smell, good and bad, i. 410, &c.—Simple and natural, 412
Sneezing, why" God bless you" is said, when one sneezes, iii. 133`
Snow, storms of, in the mountains of Armenia, i. 275-Used to cool
wine, 391
Society of bad men unfortunate, i. 286-It is best to avoid its com-
mon offices, ii. 454
Socrates, his answer to Criton, i. 19-His dæmon, 49, 50—Banters
Hippias, 160-His opinion of the duty, both of young and old,
292-Styled a toper, 442-Why reckoned the only wise man,
494; ii. 129-His soul and virtue, 26-His death, 26, 255, 292—
His constitutional vice, 31-Compared himself to midwives, 146-
His perplexed notion of God, 156-His prayers, 247—His wife's
mourning for him, 255-His knowledge and virtues superior to
those of Alexander, iii. 8-His behaviour at his condemnation, 19
-His familiarity with death, 40-His oath, 102-His flight, 134
-His opinion concerning violence, or wrong done, 178-What he
said on seeing a heap of treasure, 285-His advice about the
charms of beauty, 293-His discourse and character, 320, 321,
323, 418-His prescription to be easy in life, 323-Pleading be-
INDEX.

fore his judges, 342-His way of speaking and living, 346-His
deformity of body unsuitable to the beauty of his mind, 349-
The master of masters, 373-His taste for dancing and music in
old age, 420—His valour, 421
Soldier, cowardly, how he ought to be punished, i. 56-Made a
coward by the cure of a disease, i. 483-Another, rifled by the
enemy, performed a brave exploit, ib.-Another, horridly terri-
fied by the preparations for his execution, ii. 34-The hands of
one frozen fast to a burden of wood, iii. 195-Delicacy in the sol-
dier, is vicious and intolerable, 384
Soldiers, their faith not to be depended on, i. 28-Whether they
should be richly armed, 370-Whether they should be allowed
to insult a vanquished enemy, 371-French, censured for dress-
ing for an attack as for a ball, 528-That were ordered to eat al-
ways standing, &c. 529-First taught to handle their arms with
skill, ii. 407-Of Cæsar, 455, &c.-Of Marcellus, called Merce-
naries, 465
Solitary life, preferred to a voluptuous one, i. 263
Solitude, considerations on, i. 285 to 300-What it is, 286, &c.—
The end and aim proposed by it, 287-Does not free men from their
vices, ib.-In what true solitude consists, 289-To whom it is
most becoming, 291-What constitutions are best fitted for it,
292-Occupation most suitable to it, 294-With what view Pliny
and Cicero advised it to be sought after, 295-Courted for the
sake of devotion, 296-General observations deduced from the
subject, 298, 299, 300-What sort most recommended, iii. 27-
Local, ib.-Preferred to troublesome and foolish company, 258
Solon, remarks on his character of the happy man, i. 14, 66-His
tears for the death of his son, ii. 255-Allowed women to prosti-
tute themselves, iii. 91-Trite reply of his respecting his own
laws, 213-His limitation of life to seventy years, 410
Song, martial, by an American savage, i. 257-Love-song of the
same, 258
Sons eat their dead fathers, ii. 253
Sophocles died with joy, i. 10-Censured for his praise of a fine
youth, 239-His tragedies, 437
Sophronia canonized for avoiding ravishment by suicide, i. 463
Sorcerers' dreams, iii. 316, and Note
Sorrow called by the Italians surliness, i. 6-A contemptible pas-
sion, ib.-Extremity of it unutterable, 7
Sorrows increase by knowledge, ii. 125
Soul without settled limits, i. 33-Colours things as it pleases, 240-
The immortality of, believed in by the Barbarians, 250--Looking
upon things several ways, 284-Variable into all sorts of forms,
319-The sole cause of its own happy or unhappy condition, 333
-Discovered in all its motions, 396-Ought to be pure, when
addressing the Deity, 415-Inconstant and variable, 432-Liable
to be overthrown by its own weakness, 448-What reason tells
us of its nature, ii. 197-Opinions of the philosophers respecting
it, 198-In what part of man it resides, 199-Soul general, and
souls particular, 205-Its origin, ib.-Opinion of its pre-exist-

INDEX.

:
ence, before its union to the body, 207-Its generation and vital
growth, 209-Affected by the sufferings of the body, ib.-Its
facultion disturbed by the bite of a mad dog, ib.-Tending to-
wards death, according to the philosophers, 212-Its immortality,
on what the opinion is grounded, 213, &c.-Its faculties affected
by the alteration of the body, 229-Its union with the body, 333
-Ordered and regulated by Socrates, iii. 323-Never struck
with the pain of the stone, as in other diseases, 399—Ought to
participate of the pleasures of the body, 418
Souls, the most regular, to be discomposed by various accidents, i.
448-Shifting their places from one body into another, ii. 37, &c.
-Of inanimate things, 94-Of princes and coblers, 95—Of some
excellent men, 134-Of the gods, 178-Whence, when, and by
whom produced, 205, 207-Knowing, in their natural purity,
207-Of the damned, converted into devils, 218—Of the vir-
tuous deified, ib.-The most ignorant, have some shining faculty,
350, 351-Heavy and vulgar, 357-Regular and strong of them-
selves, 358-Fit for the management of affairs, 379-By which
men ought to be judged, iii. 9—In. old age, subject to more trou-
blesome maladies than in youth, 18-Sublime, not proper for low
things, 264-Stupid, in what consists their happiness, `291-Ele-
vated by the ardour of devotion and religion, 429
Sovereign authority resigned for a moderate fortune, iii. 160, 161
Spaniards, their cruel treatment of the Americans, iii. 151, &c.—
Their offers to the newly discovered Indians, 152
Spanish peasant's fortitude, ii. 441-Spanish way of travelling, iii.
237

Spargapizes's suicide, i. 464
Sparrow's nest demolished for their chattering a secret, i. 476
Sparta, children of, differently instructed from those of Athens, i. 159
Spartans, why they did not reward a citizen of bravery, i. 277-
Their valour 496-Their treatment of their sick, ii. 517
Speaking, without preparation, i. 42-Copious and elegant, 202—
The purest way of, has its failing, ii. 260-Discomposes the sick
and wounded, iii. 389
Species, the fondness of all creatures for their own, ii. 182
Spectacles, magnificent, of the Roman emperors, iii. 143, &c.
Speech fit for pleaders and preachers, i. 41-Of mankind, whether
natural, ii. 69—The purest, capable of different constructions, 260
-Liberty of it, 346-Read, very absurd and disadvantageous,
iii. 221
Speusippus, whether he died in the act of adultery, i. 76-His ob-
jection to the use of rods in schools, 192-His suicide, 455-His
notion of the Deity, ii. 156
Spider, remarks on the structure of its web, ii. 65
Spittle, its quality, ii. 276
Spoils burnt for a sacrifice to some gods, ii. 164
Sponge, strange use made of it, i. 391
Sports and pastimes profitable to society, i. 208
Spurina, his story, ii. 446, 453
Stag chased, ii. 36
INDEX.

Stags, harnessed to the coach of Heliogabalus, iii. 137
Stallion's revenge on a groom, ii. 90-
States, nothing more dangerous to them than change, iii. 214
How difficult it is to reform them, 215-Threatened with altera-
tion and revolutions, 219
Statesmen, how they amuse the people, while they most abuse
them, iii. 199
Statilius, why he refused to be a plotter against Cæsar, i. 398
Stature of men looking towards heaven, ii. 107
Stephen, St. his shrine said to have cured blindness, i. 213
Stile of the year offered by the pope to be altered iii. 286, 306
Stilpo, the philosopher, his constancy under the worst of misfor-
tunes, i. 289-Hastened his end by drinking pure wine, 447–
His natural appetite, ii. 31
Stoic philosophy and its effects, ii. 221
Stoics deemed pity a vice, i. 3—Their state, 52-Allowed the feed-
ing upon carcases, 252-Their rhodomontades, 450—Their pre-
cepts as to repentance, iii. 13
Stone, the most painful of all diseases, ii. 488-Discharged by one
dreaming he was lying with a wench; 491-Montaigne's father
afflicted with this disorder, 493-A disease common to old men,
especially men of quality, iii. 393-Its symptoms, &c. 394 to
397-Its advantage above other distempers, 398, &c.
Stoves decried; iii. 380
Stratagems in war contrary to the elder senators' practice, i. 24-
The most unfair, publicly authorized, 26
Strato, the philosopher, his notion of God, ii. 156
Stratonice, the effect her beauty had on Antiochus, i. 95
Strength of men inferior to that of other animals, ii. 75
Stubble to be burnt in the fields after the harvest, iii. 319
Stubbornness and lying, two vices that ought early to be suppressed,
i. 38
Students of Montague-College, iii. 266
Study, excessive, damps courage and other efforts of the mind, i.
145, &c.-Its advantages, 171-Severity inimical to, 191-Is a
pleasant employment, ii. 148-That fittest for an old man, 415
Stupidity accompanied by health and vigour, ii. 120-Of the vulgar,
and its effects, iii. 342
Style, licentious, in some of these Essays, the author's apology for,
iii. 119
Subjection real and effectual, i. 350
Submission mollifies the heart, i. 1
Subsistence, mortal, always changing, ii. 283, &c.—Real, denied, ib.
Substance not clearly understood, iii. 364
Subtleties of logic, abuses, i. 199-Vain subtleties, 406, &c.
Success, good or bad, no proof of merit or demerit, i. 262-Whe-
ther it is a proof of ability, iii. 182
Suicide, its wickedness and future punishment, i. 455-Its justest
motives, 458-Other causes, 460, 469–Of old Rasias, 462-Ofan
Indian nobleman, 465-Of two women, ib.-Of Fulvius's wife,
466—Of Vibius, ib.—Of the inhabitants of Astapa, 468–Of thẹ
VOL. III.
M M
INDEX.-
Abydéans, 469-Of James Chastel, 470-Of a woman by
poison, 471-Of the Hyperboréans, 472
Suicides' interment, i. 457-Fortitude, how to be judged, ii. 289
Suit of arms worn under a religious habit, i. 324
Sulpicius betrayed to Sylla by his own slave, ii. 537
Summer more incommodious than winter, to our author, iii. 414
Sumptuary laws, i. 353 to 356
Sun, worshipped by the Indians, i. 261-Mourning for the death of
Cæsar, ii. 289
Suns, five, successively created, iii. 156, 157
Sun-worship, the most excusable, ii. 154
Superfluity, Montaigne's notion of it, iii. 253
Superior, what he most expects from his inferiors, i. 61
Superiority and inferiority bound to a natural contest, iii. 161
Surgeon; see Chirurgeon
Surname of Divine, given to Plato, i. 403-That of Great, to princes,
ib.
Surnames glorious amongst the ancients, debased by the moderns, ib.
Surprises in war, i. 30
Suspicion in a prince, fatal, į. 139
Swallows' judgment and skill in building their nests, ii. 65-Taught
to carry letters, 387
Sweat of Alexander had an agreeable odour, i. 410
Sweet-meats disliked by Montaigne from a boy, iii. 406
Swimming of great use in war, ii. 464
Swine sacrificed in effigy by the Egyptians, ii. 35, 36
Swiss soldiers' wives, i. 320-Swiss loggerheads, ii. 28
Swooning, a cause of it, i. 96
Swoons, in the agony of death, whence they proceed, i. 486
Sword, flourished by a boy without hands, i. 113-Is a weapon on
which much reliance may be placed, 380
Sylla and Marius, their wars, i. 369
Sylla tampers with a slave to betray his master Sulpicius, and after-
wards orders him to be punished with death, ii. 537
Sylvanus's suicide, ii. 291
Sympathy of men, its effects, ii. 88
T.
TABLE, the most honourable place at it among the Romans, i. 392-
The most accessible place at it, 474
Tables, distinguished by the names of the guests, i. 361
Table-talk, who the best companion in it, i. 229
Tacitus the historian abolished, ii, 371.-His genius and charac-
ter, iii. 192 to 197-A sincere historian, but too severe in his
censures on Pompey, 194-Commended for relating extraordi-
nary facts and popular rumours, 195–Was a great man, upright
and bold, ib.
Tages, author of the art of divination in Tuscany, i. 47
Talbot's motto, i. 436
Talva, M. Juventius, died of joy, i. 10
INDEX.
1
Tamly siege raised by swarms of bees, ii. 95
Tarpeian-rock, a slave thrown from it for treason, ii. 537
Tartar king, who embraced Christianity, hindered from kissing the
pope's toe, ii, 47
Tasso, the Italian poet, his insanity, ii. 120
Taste of nothing that is pure, ii. 376
Taurea Jubellius, his noble exit, i. 467
Teachers, how they should be paid, i. 152, 153 -
Teeth, white, despised, ii. 106
Temerity, very absurd, i. 213
Temper, management of, necessary in gaming, iii. 284
Temperance ought to be loved for its own sake, iii. 18
Temptation, the first, of mankind, by the devil, ii. 114
Temptations of the flesh powerful and sharp, iii. 325
Tender-heartedness of Montaigne, ii. 33
Terence's comedies, i. 302-His character, ii. 6, 7
Terez, king of Thrace, his passion for war, i. 325
Ternate, island, how war is declared there, i. 25
Terror, panic, awful effects of, i. 65, 66
Thales compared to the fox, who said the grapes were sour, i. 148
The reason he assigned for not marrying, 326-His notion of
God, ii. 155-Reproached by his maid for his star-gazing, 191,
192-Wrongfully censured, as advising perjury, iii. 58
Thalestris, queen of the Amazons, came to Alexander to lie with
him, iii. 114
Theano, her saying of the woman that goes to bed to her husband,
i. 99, 100
Thebans nonsuited by the noble spirit of Epaminondas, i. 3
Thebes, city, cruelty of Alexander at, i. 5
Theft, i. 439-Allowed by Lycurgus, why, ii. 254
Themison, his physics, ii. 505
Theodorus's atheism, ii. 157
Theologia Naturalis, of Raimond de Sebonde, ii. 42—Objections
made to the work, answered by Montaigne, 44, 45
Theology has nothing to do with the other sciences, i. 421-Of
former time, iii. 267, 268
Theon, the philosopher, walked in his sleep, iii. 405
Theophilus, emperor, defeated and forced by one of his generals
to fly against his will, i. 64
Theophrastus's wavering opinion of God, ii. 156
Theopompus king of Sparta's compliment to his subjects, i. 337
Theramenes' shoe, iii. 319
Thessalus, his physics, ii. 505
Thetis, Alexander's sacrifice to her, ii. 164
Thief grows rich, and makes satisfaction, iii. 11, 12
Thievery odious to the Spartans, ii. 440-Practised by the Egyp-
tians, ib.
Things, more needful to be taught than words, i. 196
Thracians shot arrows towards the sky when it thundered, i. 24—
Their king how distinguished from his people, 343-Their wives
and concubines, ii. 73
MM 2
INDEX.
Thrasiläus's insanity, ii. 125
Thrasonides, a Grecian youth, why he refused to enjoy his mistress,
iii. 109
Threicion's suicide, i. 459
Thrift of animals, ii. 105
Thumbs, barbarous custom of screwing and otherwise wounding
them, ii. 398-Latin etymology of thumb, ib.-Favour or disgust
shown by the thumb, ib.-Thumbs of vanquished enemies cut off,
399
Thurians' order against new laws, i. 125
Tiberius, another man without than within, ii. 345-His detestation
of treachery, 525-His amours, iii. 31-Refused the price of
eloquence, why, 164-His trouble of conscience about the reli-
gion of his time, 194
Tiger's clemency to a kid, ii. 102-Harnessed to a coach, iii. 137
Tigillinus's effeminate preparation for death, iii. 252
Time, a moving thing without permanency, ii. 285-The physician
of our passions, iii. 44, 45—Ought to be managed, 429
Timoleon, his escape from assassination, i. 268-His lamentation
for his brother, 285-Deputed to cleanse Sicily of tyrants, i
540
Timon, a man-hater, i. 398
Title-pages of books censured, i. 308
Tolling of a bell, war declared thereby, i. 26
To-morrow, a new day, i. 472, &c.
Tongue, vulgar, rendered ambiguous in covenants, iii. 360
Torment practised by the emperor Mechmed, ii. 411
Torpedo, its benumbing qualities, ii. 85
Torture of a Spanish peasant, ii. 441
Tragedy-writers must have recourse to history, ii. 475
Traitors abhorred and punished even by those that have employed
them, ii. 536, 537, 538
Transmigration of souls, observations on, ii. 37, &c.
Travelling very instructive to youth, i. 172-At what period it
should be begun, ib.-The Spanish way, iii. 237-Considerations
whether it is proper for old men, 241, 242-Who are the best
companions in it, 255
Travels, when useful and instructive, iii. 242
Treachery, rejected by Tiberius, ii. 525-Useful, preferred to ho-
nesty, 534-Fatal to him who abandons himself to it, 535-
Wherein it ought only to be excused, 536-Revenged upon those
that were employed about it, ib.-Several instances of it, and
its requital, 537 to 542
Treasure, the true one, i. 290 ·
Trees buried in winter, i. 275
Trembling, the surname of Sancho, king of Navarre, i. 407
Trouble in a state of plenty, iii. 253-Infinitely painful, 399
Troubles of this life, i. 287, &c.-How past, troubles may be for-
gotten, ii. 123
Trunk, used in some countries to speak through, when addressing
the king, i. 114
•
་
INDEX.
Truth, and reason, common to all men, i. 170-How we come to
know truth, ii. 132, 262, 263—Is not to be judged of by the testi-
mony of others, ii. 143-The search of it agreeable, 148-Ba-
nished, the first cause of the corruption of manners, 268-The
fundamental part of virtue, 430-Is one, and simple in her ways,
533-Circumscribed and limited, iii. 376
Tunny-fish acquainted with the mathematics, ii. 101
Turk, taught valour by a hare, ii. 422
Turkish madmen proud to debase their own nature, iii. 106
Turks made themselves scars in honour of their mistresses, i. 323
-Their armies subsist cheaply, 885-Their regard to beasts, ii.
40-The basis of their valour, 423-Their military discipline, its
severity, iii. 328
Turnebus's character, i. 154; ii. 363
Tutors, the wrong method used by them in instructing their pupils,
i. 168.
Tyranny defined, i. 348
Tyrant, advised how to guard against plots, i. 143
Tyrants make their anger felt by inflicting lingering deaths, ii.
410
U.
Ugliness of several sorts, iii. 349
Umbrellas of Italy, iii. 236, 237
Uncertainty and mutability of human things, i. 66, 67
Unchastity, what denotes it, ii. 224
Understanding, its power and use, i. 315-Its darkness, ii. 61—
Limited, 222, 224-Its incapacity, 225-The human under-
standing, its chief ability, iii. 20-Very short and weak, 146
-Compared to Theramenes's shoe, 319
Understandings of several sorts, i. 409-Common understandings,
the best for business, ii. 379
Unlikeness affected by nature, iii. 358
Unsaying, infamous, iii. 298, 299
Urine of horses drank, i. 384-Urine of diseased persons, iii.
400
Utilities proper to men lost, to accommodate themselves to the
common opinion, iii. 211
Utility, public, too dearly purchased, ii. 540-Private utility, not
to be preferred before faith given, 542
V.
VALENTINIAN, a professed enemy to all knowledge, ii. 128
Valetudinarians, their surest course, iii. 386
Valour, its bounds, i. 55-Wherein the valour of a man consists,
256-Covetous of danger, 317-True, defined, 435-Never
starts, 456-Military, 497-Philosophical 498-The highest de-
gree of virtue, and its etymology, ib.-The chief virtue among
the French noblesse, 499-Perfected with anger, ii. 234-
་
INDEX.
Ought to be desired for itself, not for a show, 309-Popular, by
civil wars in France, 364-Of Cæsar's soldiers, 460—Änd reso-
lution, 483-Preferred to genealogical nobility, iii. 64-Military
valour recommended by the laws of Plato, to the special favour
of the ladies, 131
Value of ourselves, i. 493
Vanity of the self-conceited, i. 448-Nursing-mother of false opi-
nions, ii. 326-Considerations on, iii. 197 to 276
Variety and vanity of opinions, ii. 150-Variety pleasing, iii. 253
Varro's excuse for the absurdities of the religion of the Romans,
ii. 186-The qualities he requires in guests, to make the feast
agreeable, iii. 416
Vaux, Henry de, his conduct at the siege of Commercy-castle, i.
27
Venus, an imperious goddess, ii. 32-Her mysteries, 258-Ac-
companies Bacchus, 450-Why made a goddess, iii. 30-Not so
beautiful stark-naked as she is painted by Virgil, 63—Her amour
with Mars, 96, 97-What she really is, 103-How her statue,
by Praxiteles, captivated a youth, 110
Vermillion and ceruse, ii. 272
Vespasian, emperor, his behaviour on his death-bed, ii. 381-His
cure of a blind woman, iii. 195
Vessel, rich, purposely broken by king Cotys, why, iii. 292
Vexius Valens, his physics, ii. 505
Vibius, his suicide, and that of twenty-seven senators, i. 466
Vice carries a sting in its tail, i. 477-The being addicted to one,
does not render a man liable to all, ii. 31-The natural propen-
sity to it corrected by discipline, ib.-Punished by the Divine
justice after death, 213-Leaves repentance in the soul, iii. 4
Vices, take root in childhood, and ought to be early corrected, i.
111-All alike, as they are vices, but not equal, 438-Vices of
men, ii. 111-Condemned by reason and nature, iii. 5.-Not sub-
ject to contradiction, 6—Of kings, authorized by their subjects'
imitation, 164-Of some men, a lesson for others, 166
Victories fairly gotten, i. 254, 255-Obtained against the Ameri-
cans, iii. 150
Victors bewail the death of the conquered, i. 281
Victory renounced by him who sued to an enemy for the restoration
of a dead body for interment, i. 15-Ought not to be stolen, 30
-In what true victory consists, 254-Instances of victory not
duly improved, ib. and 255, 368, 369-Naval victory gained
over the Turks, 262-Is the principal aim of a general and
every private soldier, 359-Not complete without the sovereign,
ii. 382-Obtained by counsel better than obtained by force,
460
View, free and full, of a loved object, cools the ardour, ii. 108
Vigilance and activity ought to be recommended to youth, iii.
401
Violence offered to women's chastity, i. 463-Violence of desires
hinders the execution of undertakings, iii. 282
Virgil, his Æneid and Georgics, ii. 6, 8-Ear superior to Ariosto,
3

INDEX.
6-Reflections on some of his verses, iii. 50 to 132~With what
colourings he describes Vulcan's enjoyment of Venus, 63-Re-
presents a marriage full of harmony and good agreement, but
void of fidelity, 68-His advice to burn the stubble in the fields
after the harvest, 319
Virginity, the vow of, the hardest to be kept, iii. 80-Lost without
prostitution, 89
Virgins, forced to their husbands' beds, i. 282-Made viragoes in
the very laps of their mothers, 438-Furious compact of the Mi-
lesian virgins, 458-Virgins could not legally be put to death at
Rome, ii. 538-Ten deflowered in one night by an emperor of
Rome, 70
Virtue, aims at pleasure, i. 71-Ennobled by difficulties, 72—Its
greatest benefit, ib.-Its character and situation, and how it
should be represented to youth, 185-Enemy to anxiety and sor-
row, 186-Its value, and true employment, ib.-The nursing-
mother of all human pleasures, ib.-Embraced with too violent
desire, becomes vicious, 234-Satisfied with herself, 290-Its
beginning and end, 430-Followed for itself, 436-Never turns
its back to accidents, 455-How attained to, 481-Is more great
and active than to be drawn to the rules of reason, ii. 20—Can-
not be exercised without some difficulty, 21-Refuses ease for a
companion, 23-Shines bright by the conflict of contrary appe-
tites, ib.-Its necessary objects, 24-Turned into habit in Cato
and Socrates, 25, 26-Its different degrees, 27-The particular
mark of the Christian religion, 47-Accompanied with irregular
agitations, 234-Ought to be coveted for herself, 311, 312-Mili-
tary, 412, 413-Considerations on, 415 to 425-Full and equal,
415, &c.-Gives joy to a well-disposed mind, iii. 4-Is pleasant
and gay, 56-Royal, wherein it consists, 141-Assigned to the
affairs of the world, 261-Scholastic, unfit for the management
of public affairs, 262-True and sincere, cannot be employed in
the service of a corrupt state, 264-What virtue is, according to
Menon, 364
Virtuous actions rewarded by their own merit, ii. 311, 312--
Virtuous man, what course he may take in times of confusion,
iii. 266
Visions, why so much credited, i. 96
Voice, the flower of beauty, ii. 271-Of the rabble contemned, 307
Of diverse tones and uses, iii. 389-Strained before meals,
wholesome, 408
Voluptuousness of the Cynics, ii. 259
Vow of some English sparks, rash and ridiculous, ii. 396
Vulcan, not very jealous of his wife Venus, iii. 84

鼽
​W.
WAISTS, slender, the pains some women undergo to fashion them,
i. 322
Walachians the grand-signior's couriers, ii. 388
Walk required in a place of retirement, iii. 34
INDEX.
War, the barbarians' custom of commencing it, i. 25-Proclaimed
by the tolling of a bell, 26-Description of the wars of the sa-
vages, 251-Wars of the bees, ii. 92–Of men against the gods,
184 Wars carried on abroad, more supportable than civil-wars,
390-The war between Cæsar and Pompey characterized, iii. 291
-The civil-wars in France greatly destructive, 326, &c.
War-horse, ii. 104
:
Warriors, the greatest in Montaigne's time, ii. 362, 363
Wasp most hurtful to itself, i. 476 .
Watching, or being awake, ii. 276
Water of the river Choaspes, beverage of the Persian kings, iii. 235
Waters, perfumed, used by the Romans for bathing in, i. 390.
Watermen's fare, how paid by the Romans,. i. 393
Wealth hoarded up to maintain the paternal authority in old age,
i. 504
.
Weapons used in war by the savages, i. 251-Military, anciently
used, 381, &c.
Weather's alteration affects the minds of men, ii. 230
Weavers, women, iii. 318
Weeping of beasts, ii. 99
Whale and sea-gudgeon, ii. 100
Whimsies in use among the mean sort of men, iii. 168—Of parties,
288, 289
Whipping of boys at school censured, i. 191
White, used for mourning by the ladies of Argos and Rome, i. 394
Whores, kept in temples for the use of those that came to their de-
votion, iii. 75-Four, naked, harnessed to the coach of Helioga-
balus, to draw him in state, 137
Wicked, society with them fatal, i. 286-Men cannot hide them-
selves, 477-Punished, 479-Picked out and put together in a
city built for that purpose by king Philip, iii. 212
Widow got a great belly, not knowing by whom, i. 441
Widows, how they should be provided for, i, 516
Wife's yehement love of her husband, ii. 468-Wife complaining of
her husband's too frequent addresses, iii. 70-The danger of re-
straining her, 94
Will, the effects thereof not always in our own power, i. 31-Irre-
gular and disobedient, 101-Will and desire are laws to them-
selves, ii. 532-Considerations on the management of, iii. 276 to
305-The will ought not to be let out but upon just occasions,
278-Running on with too keen an appetite, it ought to be re-
strained, 291
Wills more obstinate for being opposed, ii. 297
Wind breaks out of men three several ways, iii. 133
Wine, frozen, cut with hatchets in winter-time, i. 274-Cooled
with snow, 391-Dashed, 394-Wine vents the most inward se-
crets, 440-Delicacy in the choice of it censured, 443-For-
bidden to children, 446-When to be drank sparingly, 447-Its
virtue and property, ib.-Pure, bad for old age, ib.-Prescribed
for the sick Spartans, 517-The best, in Diogenes's opinion, iii.
205-Palled, in esteem in Portugal, 380-Hurtful to sick people,
INDEX.
Ի
387-Dashed with water, of Cranaus's invention, 413-Theolo-
gical and Sorbonnical, 419
Winsberg, in Upper Bavaria, besieged, i. 2
Wisdom's acquiescency, i. 12-Wisdom and ignorance attain to the
same ends, 408-Wisdom's chief aim, 430-Its principal office,
439-Liable to all conditions and natural passions, 448-What
it is, 451; ii. 130-Only belongs essentially to the Divinity,
55-Of the world, folly with God, 57-Accompanied with trou-
ble, 125-That species of wisdom which Montaigne liked, iii. 56
Wisdom commits itself to the conduct of chance, 184-Better
learned by prosperity than by adversity, 199-Its deficiency, 257
-Human, never arrives at its prescribed duty, 259 Brought
again from heaven by Socrates, 322
·
Wise man, in what regard he differs from the fool, i. 52—His
country, 179-May live every-where content, 286-His life, 453
-The wise man determined in life by appearances, ii. 140-Why
Socrates alone was accounted such, 494-His relation and con-
nection, iii. 239
Wise men ought to do nothing but for themselves, i. 398-Operate
by all the virtues together, ii. 30-Compared to ears of corn, 132
Necessary to help us out of the world, iii. 244-May be in love,
260-Should be intelligent in the use of pleasure, 420
Wish, extravagant one, of the philosopher Eudoxus, ii. 150
Wit, great, has a spice of madness, i. 451
Witch-marks, iii. 315
Witches, stories concerning them, treated as mere chimeras, iii.
313-Judged by Montaigne to be crack-brained, 316
Witholde, a Lithuanian prince, his order that every criminal con-
demned to die should execute himself, ii. 539
Witness among the Romans, ii. 312
Wits envious, i. 278-Of many degrees, 340, 408-Great, allied
to madness, ii. 120
Wives, love to them restricted by divinity, i. 236-Used in some
countries to bury themselves alive, or submit to be burnt, with
their deceased husbands, 311-Instance of two, who put them-
selves to death, to encourage their husbands to do the same, 465
Show most love to their husbands, when they have lost them,
ii. 467-Kept in too great subjection by the Italians, iii. 112
Woman, turned into a man, i. 95-That goes to bed to a man, must
put off her modesty with her petticoat, 99-Fancying she had
swallowed a pin, 104-Causes her face to be flayed for a better
skin, 322-Unreasonable, 516-One who, being beat by her hus-
band, drowned herself, ii. 418-Each thinks herself preferable
to another, iii. 29-Her refusal increases the man's love, 81-
Her head, the worst part of her, 94-Blind, cured by Vespa-
sian, 195
Women, taking rank and command in the wars, i. 115—Circum-
cised, 117-Incapable of a perfect love, 220-Burnt alive with
the dead bodies of their husbands, 311-Succeeding to peerages,
337-Bathed together with the men, 393-Masked and painted,
399-Excluded equally with children from inquiring into the laws,
INDEX.
420-Not very fit to treat of theological matters, 423—Jewish,
avoiding the cruelty of Antigonus, 461-Seeking after death, to
avoid the cruelty of tyrants, 463—Of virtue and honour, 499—
The use of them enervate youth, 506, 507-Addicted to cross
their husbands, 513-Made use of by ladies for a footstool, ii. 73
-Their time of pregnancy, 220-Killing themselves at their
husbands' decease, 418-Buried alive with their husbands, 419
-Obstinate and furious, 433, 442—Three good ones, remarkable
for virtue and honour, 466, &c.-Whether they need be learned
in the languages, iii. 25-What sort of learning is fittest for them,
26-Their mourning, what, 36-The severe laws imposed on
them by the men without their consent, 70-Their polity myste-
rious, 73--Are more learned than men in love's business, 74-
Of the kingdom of Pegu covered below the waist with a cloth slit
before, 78-Whether they are the better for these laws, 79—
What ought to encourage them to be chaste, 81-Their torment-
ing hateful jealousy, 83, 85, &c.—Prostituted by their husbands
for lucre, 90-Prostituting themselves for the gift of an elephant,
91-Having liberty by the laws to provide for the necessities of
life at the expense of their chastity, ib.-Their embraces despised,
105-Young and beautiful, kept three days after their death be-
fore they were delivered to the undertaker, 110, 111—Fine,
equally charming in France as in Italy, 112-Kept very close in
Italy, ib.-Whence it comes that men usurp authority over them,
120-Changing the title of beautiful to that of good, 130
Wool, perfumed, privately made use of, i. 391
Words of men, their only tie on one another, i. 38-Affected and
finely spoken, 199-Moderating the temerity of propositions,
iii. 312
Works, visible, of the Divine Being, an incontestable proof of his
existence, ii. 53
World, the utility of conversation with, i. 179-Is a mirror for man
to view himself in, and a book to instruct him, 180-A sacred
temple, ii. 53-New, without law or magistrate, 128-Its plu-
rality and variety, 170-Its government, 180-Various opinions
about it, 241-Creation of, 243-In a perpetual motion, iii. 1—
Another, discovered by this of ours, 149-The new, genius of
its inhabitants, when first discovered, ib.-Their cruel treatment
by the Spaniards, 151-Its duration divided into five ages by the
Mexicans, 156-Is a school of inquiry, 175-Incapable of curing
itself, 215
Wounds, self-inflicted, i. 323
Wrath, whether proper to animate virtue and valour, ii. 437
Wren and crocodile, ii. 101
Wrestlers who forbore all commerce with Venus, i. 507
Wrestling condemned by Philopamen, why, ii. 407
Writer, the profession of one, a particular object of inquiry with
Montaigne, i. 60
Writers, modern, their poverty of genius, how discovered, i. 163
Writings of Cordus condemned to the fire, i. 523-Preferred to
bodily children, 524, 525—Obscure, find interpreters enough, ii.
INDEX.
260-Of the great poets of former times, 329-Long or short,
acquire no merit on that account, 331
Wrong done to the Divine greatness, ii. 166, &c.
X.
XANTIPPE'S lamentation for the death of her husband Socrates,
ii. 255
Xenocrates, his gods, ii. 156-How he preserved his continency,
447
Xenophanes the philosopher, i. 49-His god, ii. 157, 183

"
Xenophon was a great captain and a philosopher, i. 29—Why he
wrote his own history, 301-Reporting Socrates' doctrine, ii.
156-Receives intelligence of the death of his son Cryllus, iii. 42
-His conduct on the occasion, ib.-Relieved and saved in, the
Delian battle, 421
Xerxes, his impotent anger, i. 22-Is reproved by his uncle Arta-
banus, 284-Seized both with joy and sorrow, at the sight of his
vast army, ib.-His silly proposal, when environed with all human
delights, iii. 416
Y.
YEAR cut ten days shorter, iii. 286, 306
Years of capacity, i. 427
Young gentlemen given to filching, i. 503-Fourteen buried alive
by order of Amestris, ii. 165
Youth, see Children-Must be accustomed to labour and hardship,
i. 173-Its debauchery and excess, 189-Of quality, should be
instructed in things rather than words, 196-Ought to despise
sophistry, 199-Why they ought not to be too delicately brought
up, iii. 382
Z.
ZALEUCUS's laws against women's sumptuous luxury, i. 354
Zamolxis, the god of the Getes, ii. 165
Zeal, immoderate, i. 235-Governed with moderation and pru-
dence, 419—Of the Christians, ii. 49—Armed against Pagan
books, 371-Falsely named, 530
Zeno, his disciples, i. 202-Representing the state of his imagina-
tion, ii. 136-His god, 156-His weak argument, 202-His opi-
nion of the nature of the soul, 212-His oath, iii. 102-Never
had to do with a woman but once in his life, 105
Zenobia, a rare instance of conjugal continency, i. 238
Zisca, general, a drum formed of his skin, i. 16
FINIS.
1
C. Baldwin, Printer,
New Bridge-street, London.
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