Essays of Michel de Montaigne Part 99

Alcibiades, to divert the inclination of common rumours, cut off the ears and tail of his beautiful dog, and turned him out into the public place, to the end that, giving the people this occasion to prate, they might let his other actions alone. I have also seen, for this same end of diverting the opinions and conjectures of the people and to stop their mouths, some women conceal their real affections by those that were only counterfeit; but I have also seen some of them, who in counterfeiting have suffered themselves to be caught indeed, and who have quitted the true and original affection for the feigned: and so have learned that they who find their affections well placed are fools to consent to this disguise: the public and favourable reception being only reserved for this pretended lover, one may conclude him a fellow of very little address and less wit, if he does not in the end put himself into your place, and you into his; this is precisely to cut out and make up a shoe for another to draw on.

A little thing will turn and divert us, because a little thing holds us.

We do not much consider subjects in gross and singly; they are little and superficial circ.u.mstances, or images that touch us, and the outward useless rinds that peel off from the subjects themselves:

"Folliculos ut nunc teretes aestate cicadae Linquunt."

["As husks we find gra.s.shoppers leave behind them in summer."

--Lucretius, v. 801.]

Even Plutarch himself laments his daughter for the little apish tricks of her infancy.--[Consolation to his Wife on the Death of their Daughter, c. I.]--The remembrance of a farewell, of the particular grace of an action, of a last recommendation, afflict us. The sight of Caesar's robe troubled all Rome, which was more than his death had done. Even the sound of names ringing in our ears, as "my poor master,"--"my faithful friend,"--"alas, my dear father," or, "my sweet daughter," afflict us.

When these repet.i.tions annoy me, and that I examine it a little nearer, I find 'tis no other but a grammatical and word complaint; I am only wounded with the word and tone, as the exclamations of preachers very often work more upon their auditory than their reasons, and as the pitiful eyes of a beast killed for our service; without my weighing or penetrating meanwhile into the true and solid essence of my subject:

"His se stimulis dolor ipse lacessit."

["With these incitements grief provokes itself."

--Lucretius, ii. 42.]

These are the foundations of our mourning.

The obstinacy of my stone to all remedies especially those in my bladder, has sometimes thrown me into so long suppressions of urine for three or four days together, and so near death, that it had been folly to have hoped to evade it, and it was much rather to have been desired, considering the miseries I endure in those cruel fits. Oh, that good emperor, who caused criminals to be tied that they might die for want of urination, was a great master in the hangman's' science! Finding myself in this condition, I considered by how many light causes and objects imagination nourished in me the regret of life; of what atoms the weight and difficulty of this dislodging was composed in my soul; to how many idle and frivolous thoughts we give way in so great an affair; a dog, a horse, a book, a gla.s.s, and what not, were considered in my loss; to others their ambitious hopes, their money, their knowledge, not less foolish considerations in my opinion than mine. I look upon death carelessly when I look upon it universally as the end of life. I insult over it in gross, but in detail it domineers over me: the tears of a footman, the disposing of my clothes, the touch of a friendly hand, a common consolation, discourages and softens me. So do the complaints in tragedies agitate our souls with grief; and the regrets of Dido and Ariadne, impa.s.sionate even those who believe them not in Virgil and Catullus. 'Tis a symptom of an obstinate and obdurate nature to be sensible of no emotion, as 'tis reported for a miracle of Polemon; but then he did not so much as alter his countenance at the biting of a mad dog that tore away the calf of his leg; and no wisdom proceeds so far as to conceive so vivid and entire a cause of sorrow, by judgment that it does not suffer increase by its presence, when the eyes and ears have their share; parts that are not to be moved but by vain accidents.

Is it reason that even the arts themselves should make an advantage of our natural stupidity and weakness? An orator, says rhetoric in the farce of his pleading, shall be moved with the sound of his own voice and feigned emotions, and suffer himself to be imposed upon by the pa.s.sion he represents; he will imprint in himself a true and real grief, by means of the part he plays, to transmit it to the judges, who are yet less concerned than he: as they do who are hired at funerals to a.s.sist in the ceremony of sorrow, who sell their tears and mourning by weight and measure; for although they act in a borrowed form, nevertheless, by habituating and settling their countenances to the occasion, 'tis most certain they often are really affected with an actual sorrow. I was one, amongst several others of his friends, who conveyed the body of Monsieur de Grammont to Sp.i.s.sons from the siege of La Fere, where he was slain; I observed that in all places we pa.s.sed through we filled the people we met with lamentations and tears by the mere solemn pomp of our convoy, for the name of the defunct was not there so much as known. Quintilian reports as to have seen comedians so deeply engaged in a mourning part, that they still wept in the retiring room, and who, having taken upon them to stir up pa.s.sion in another, have themselves espoused it to that degree as to find themselves infected with it, not only to tears, but, moreover, with pallor and the comportment of men really overwhelmed with grief.

In a country near our mountains the women play Priest Martin, for as they augment the regret of the deceased husband by the remembrance of the good and agreeable qualities he possessed, they also at the same time make a register of and publish his imperfections; as if of themselves to enter into some composition, and divert themselves from compa.s.sion to disdain.

Yet with much better grace than we, who, when we lose an acquaintance, strive to give him new and false praises, and to make him quite another thing when we have lost sight of him than he appeared to us when we did see him; as if regret were an instructive thing, or as if tears, by was.h.i.+ng our understandings, cleared them. For my part, I henceforth renounce all favourable testimonies men would give of me, not because I shall be worthy of them, but because I shall be dead.

Whoever shall ask a man, "What interest have you in this siege?"

--"The interest of example," he will say, "and of the common obedience to my prince: I pretend to no profit by it; and for glory, I know how small a part can affect a private man such as I: I have here neither pa.s.sion nor quarrel." And yet you shall see him the next day quite another man, chafing and red with fury, ranged in battle for the a.s.sault; 'tis the glittering of so much steel, the fire and noise of our cannon and drums, that have infused this new rigidity and fury into his veins. A frivolous cause, you will say. How a cause? There needs none to agitate the mind; a mere whimsy without body and without subject will rule and agitate it.

Let me thing of building castles in Spain, my imagination suggests to me conveniences and pleasures with which my soul is really tickled and pleased. How often do we torment our mind with anger or sorrow by such shadows, and engage ourselves in fantastic pa.s.sions that impair both soul and body? What astonished, fleeting, confused grimaces does this raving put our faces into! what sallies and agitations both of members and voices does it inspire us with! Does it not seem that this individual man has false visions amid the crowd of others with whom he has to do, or that he is possessed with some internal demon that persecutes him?

Inquire of yourself where is the object of this mutation? is there anything but us in nature which inanity sustains, over which it has power? Cambyses, from having dreamt that his brother should be one day king of Persia, put him to death: a beloved brother, and one in whom he had always confided. Aristodemus, king of the Messenians, killed himself out of a fancy of ill omen, from I know not what howling of his dogs; and King Midas did as much upon the account of some foolish dream he had dreamed. 'Tis to prize life at its just value, to abandon it for a dream. And yet hear the soul triumph over the miseries and weakness of the body, and that it is exposed to all attacks and alterations; truly, it has reason so to speak!

"O prima infelix finger ti terra Prometheo!

Ille parum cauti pectoris egit opus Corpora disponens, mentem non vidit in arte; Recta animi primum debuit esse via."

["O wretched clay, first formed by Prometheus. In his attempt, what little wisdom did he shew! In framing bodies, he did not apply his art to form the mind, which should have been his first care."--Propertius, iii. 5, 7.]

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

A little thing will turn and divert us Abominate that incidental repentance which old age brings Age imprints more wrinkles in the mind than it does on the face Always be parading their pedantic science Am as jealous of my repose as of my authority Anger and hatred are beyond the duty of justice Beast of company, as the ancient said, but not of the herd Books go side by side with me in my whole course Books have many charming qualities to such as know how to choose But ill proves the honour and beauty of an action by its utility Childish ignorance of many very ordinary things Common consolation, discourages and softens me Consoles himself upon the utility and eternity of his writings Deceit maintains and supplies most men's employment Diverting the opinions and conjectures of the people Dying appears to him a natural and indifferent accident Every place of retirement requires a walk Fault will be theirs for having consulted me Few men have been admired by their own domestics Follies do not make me laugh, it is our wisdom which does Folly to put out their own light and s.h.i.+ne by a borrowed l.u.s.tre For fear of the laws and report of men Gently to bear the inconstancy of a lover Give but the rind of my attention Grief provokes itself He may employ his pa.s.sion, who can make no use of his reason He may well go a foot, they say, who leads his horse in his hand I do not consider what it is now, but what it was then I find no quality so easy to counterfeit as devotion I lay no great stress upon my opinions; or of others I look upon death carelessly when I look upon it universally I receive but little advice, I also give but little I speak truth, not so much as I would, but as much as I dare I understand my men even by their silence and smiles Idleness is to me a very painful labour Imagne the mighty will not abase themselves so much as to live In ordinary friends.h.i.+ps I am somewhat cold and shy Leaving nothing unsaid, how home and bitter soever Library: Tis there that I am in my kingdom Malice sucks up the greatest part of its own venom Malicious kind of justice Miserable kind of remedy, to owe one's health to one's disease!

Miserable, who has not at home where to be by himself More supportable to be always alone than never to be so.

My fancy does not go by itself, as when my legs move it My thoughts sleep if I sit still Nearest to the opinions of those with whom they have to do No evil is honourable; but death is honourable No man is free from speaking foolish things Noise of arms deafened the voice of laws None of the s.e.x, let her be as ugly as the devil thinks lovable Obliged to his age for having weaned him from pleasure Open speaking draws out discoveries, like wine and love Perfect men as they are, they are yet simply men.

Preachers very often work more upon their auditory than reasons Public weal requires that men should betray, and lie Ridiculous desire of riches when we have lost the use of them Rowers who so advance backward Season a denial with asperity, suspense, or favour So that I could have said no worse behind their backs Socrates: According to what a man can Studied, when young, for ostentation, now for diversion Swim in troubled waters without fis.h.i.+ng in them Take a pleasure in being uninterested in other men's affairs The good opinion of the vulgar is injurious The sick man has not to complain who has his cure in his sleeve The virtue of the soul does not consist in flying high Tis an exact life that maintains itself in due order in private Tis not the cause, but their interest, that inflames them t.i.tillation of ill-natured pleasure in seeing others suffer To be a slave, incessantly to be led by the nose by one's self Truly he, with a great effort will shortly say a mighty trifle We do not so much forsake vices as we change them We much more aptly imagine an artisan upon his close-stool What more? they lie with their lovers learnedly What need have they of anything but to live beloved and honoured Wisdom is folly that does not accommodate itself to the common You must let yourself down to those with whom you converse

ESSAYS OF MICHEL DE MONTAIGNE

Translated by Charles Cotton

Edited by William Carew Hazlitt

1877

CONTENTS OF VOLUME 15.

V. Upon Some verses of Virgil.

CHAPTER V

UPON SOME VERSES OF VIRGIL

CHAPTER V.

By how much profitable thoughts are more full and solid, by so much are they also more c.u.mbersome and heavy: vice, death, poverty, diseases, are grave and grievous subjects. A man should have his soul instructed in the means to sustain and to contend with evils, and in the rules of living and believing well: and often rouse it up, and exercise it in this n.o.ble study; but in an ordinary soul it must be by intervals and with moderation; it will otherwise grow besotted if continually intent upon it. I found it necessary, when I was young, to put myself in mind and solicit myself to keep me to my duty; gaiety and health do not, they say, so well agree with those grave and serious meditations: I am at present in another state: the conditions of age but too much put me in mind, urge me to wisdom, and preach to me. From the excess of sprightliness I am fallen into that of severity, which is much more troublesome; and for that reason I now and then suffer myself purposely a little to run into disorder, and occupy my mind in wanton and youthful thoughts, wherewith it diverts itself. I am of late but too reserved, too heavy, and too ripe; years every day read to me lectures of coldness and temperance.

This body of mine avoids disorder and dreads it; 'tis now my body's turn to guide my mind towards reformation; it governs, in turn, and more rudely and imperiously than the other; it lets me not an hour alone, sleeping or waking, but is always preaching to me death, patience, and repentance. I now defend myself from temperance, as I have formerly done from pleasure; it draws me too much back, and even to stupidity. Now I will be master of myself, to all intents and purposes; wisdom has its excesses, and has no less need of moderation than folly. Therefore, lest I should wither, dry up, and overcharge myself with prudence, in the intervals and truces my infirmities allow me:

"Mens intenta suis ne seit usque malis."

["That my mind may not eternally be intent upon my ills."

--Ovid., Trist., iv. i, 4.]

I gently turn aside, and avert my eyes from the stormy and cloudy sky I have before me, which, thanks be to G.o.d, I regard without fear, but not without meditation and study, and amuse myself in the remembrance of my better years:

"Animus quo perdidit, optat, Atque in praeterita se totus imagine versat."

["The mind wishes to have what it has lost, and throws itself wholly into memories of the past."--Petronius, c. 128.]

Let childhood look forward and age backward; was not this the signification of Ja.n.u.s' double face? Let years draw me along if they will, but it shall be backward; as long as my eyes can discern the pleasant season expired, I shall now and then turn them that way; though it escape from my blood and veins, I shall not, however, root the image of it out of my memory:

"Hoc est Vivere bis, vita posse priore frui."

["'Tis to live twice to be able to enjoy one's former life again."

--Martial, x. 23, 7.]