The Complete Essays

by Michel de Montaigne

  Which Senatusconsultum the aforesaid Conservators, by their authority, hereby cause to be immatriculated by the scribes of the Roman Senate and People and deposited in the Roman Curia; and have caused this Document to be duly drawn up, sealed with the accustomed seal of the City. In the Year from the Foundation of the City Two Thousand Three Hundred and Thirty-one, and in the Year of Our Lord One Thousand Five Hundred and Eighty-one: The Third of the Ides of March.

  HORATIUS FUSCUS: Scribe to the Holy Senate and People of Rome;

  VINCENTIUS MARTHOLUS: Scribe to the Holy Senate and People of Rome.

  Not being the citizen of any city, I am delighted to have been made one of the noblest City there ever was or ever shall be.

  If others were to look attentively into themselves as I do, they would find themselves, as I do, full of emptiness and tomfoolery. I cannot rid myself of them without getting rid of myself. We are all steeped in them, each as much as the other; but those who realize this get off, as I know, a little more cheaply.

  That commonly approved practice of looking elsewhere than at our own self has served our affairs well! Our self is an object full of dissatisfaction: we can see nothing there but wretchedness and vanity. So as not to dishearten us, Nature has very conveniently cast the action of our sight outwards. We are swept on downstream, but to struggle back towards our self against the current is a painful movement; thus does the sea, when driven against itself, swirl back in confusion. Everyone says: ‘Look at the motions of the heavens, look at society, at this man’s quarrel, that man’s pulse, this other man’s will and testament’ – in other words always look upwards or downwards or sideways, or before or behind you. That commandment given us in ancient times by that god at Delphi was contrary to all expectation: ‘Look back into your self; get to know your self; hold on to your self.’ Bring back to your self your mind and your will which are being squandered elsewhere; you are draining and frittering your self away. Consolidate your self; rein your self back. They are cheating you, distracting you, robbing you of your self.160

  Can you not see that this world of ours keeps its gaze bent ever inwards and its eyes ever open to contemplate itself? It is always vanity in your case, within and without, but a vanity which is less, the less it extends.

  Except you alone, O Man, said that god, each creature first studies its own self, and, according to its needs, has limits to its labours and desires. Not one is as empty and needy as you, who embrace the universe: you are the seeker with no knowledge, the judge with no jurisdiction and, when all is done, the jester of the farce.

  10. On restraining your will

  [Montaigne justifies his two unremarkable periods as Mayor of Bordeaux. His ideal is that of a tranquil mind based on a sense of having fulfilled his moral obligations to Church, State, family and city, without excessive emotional involvement. Both Socratic ideals and Stoicism blend with his Christianity. The idea that wisdom begins ‘at home’, that is, with our own self, is Socratic. Montaigne supports his case with echoes of the previous chapter as well as a saying of the Holy Ghost’s and a petition from the Lord’s Prayer.]

  [B] Compared with the common ran of men, few things touch me or, to speak more correctly, get a hold on me (it being reasonable for things to touch us provided that they do not take us over). I exercise great care to extend by reason and reflection this privileged lack of emotion, which is by nature well advanced in me. I am wedded to few things and so am passionate about few. My sight is clear but I fix it on only a few objectives; my perception is scrupulous and receptive, but I find things hard to grasp and my concentration is vague. I do not easily get involved. As far as possible I work entirely on my self, but even on that subject I prefer to rein back my emotion so as to stop it from plunging right in, since it is a subject which I possess at the mercy of Another – Fortune having more rights over it than I do.

  I value health most highly: but it follows that I ought not to seek or desire even that so frenetically that I find illness unbearable. [C] We should follow the Mean between hatred of pain and love of pleasure: Plato prescribes a way of life midway between the two.1 [B] But there are emotions which drag me from myself and tie me up elsewhere: those I oppose with all my might. In my opinion we must lend ourselves to others but give ourselves to ourselves alone. Even if my will did find it easy to pawn and bind itself to others, I could not persevere: by nature and habit I am too fastidious for that:

  fugax rerum, securaque in otia natus.

  [fleeing from obligations and born for untroubled leisure.]2

  Stubborn earnest arguments which ended in victory for my opponent, as well as results which made me ashamed of my hot pursuit, might indeed most cruelly gnaw at me. If I were to then to bite back as others do my soul would never find the strength to support the alarms and commotions which attend those who embrace so much: it would straightway be put out of joint by such internal strife. If I am occasionally pressed into taking in hand some business foreign to me, then it is in hand that I promise to take it, not in lung nor in liver! I accept the burdens but I refuse to make them parts of my body. Take trouble over them: yes; get worked up about them: never. I look after them, but not like a broody hen. I have enough to do to order and arrange those pressing affairs of my own which lie within my veins and vitals without having a jostling crowd of other folk’s affairs lodged there and trampling all over me; I have enough to do to attend to matters which by nature belong to my own being without inviting in outsiders. Those who realize what they owe to themselves, and the great duties which bind themselves to themselves, discover that Nature has made that an ample enough charge and by no means a sinecure. Do not go far away: you have plenty to do ‘at home!’3 Men put themselves up for hire. Their talents are not for themselves but for those to whom they have enslaved themselves. They are never ‘at home’: their tenants are there! That widespread attitude does not please me. We should husband our soul’s freedom, never pawning it, save on occasions when it is proper to do so – which, if we judge soundly, are very few.

  Just watch people who have been conditioned to let themselves be enraptured and carried away: they do it all the time, in small matters as in great, over things which touch them and those which touch them not at all. They become involved, indiscriminately, wherever there is a task [C] and obligations; [B] they are not alive without bustle and bother. [C] ‘in negotiis sunt negotii causa’. [They are busy so as to be busy.]4 The only reason why they seek occupations is to be occupied. It is not a case of wanting to move but of being unable to hold still, just as a rock shaken loose cannot arrest its fall until it lies on the bottom. For a certain type of man, being busy is a mark of competence and dignity. [B] Their minds seek repose in motion, like babes in a cradle. They can say that they are as useful to their friends as they are bothersome to themselves. Nobody gives his money away to others: everyone gives his time. We are never more profligate than with the very things over which avarice would be useful and laudable.

  The complexion which I adopt is flat contrary to that. I keep within myself; such things as I do want I usually want mildly. And I want very few. I rarely become involved in anything; if I am busy I am calmly so. What others want or do, they want with all their will, frantically. There are so many awkward passages that the surest way is to glide rather lightly over the surface of this world. [C] We should slide over it, not get bogged down in it. [B] Pleasure itself is painful in its deeper reaches:

  incedis per ignes

  Suppositos cineri doloso

  [You are walking through fires hidden beneath treacherous ashes.]5

  The Jurors of Bordeaux elected me mayor of their city when I was far from France, and even farther from such a thought. I declined; but I was brought to see that I was wrong, since the King had also interposed his command.6

  It is an office which should seem all the more splendid for having no salary or reward other than the honour of doing it. It lasts two years, but can be extended by a second election. That very rarely
happens. It did in my case; and to two others previously: some years ago to Monsieur de Lanssac and more recently to Monsieur de Biron, Marshal of France, to whose place I succeeded. My own place I yielded to another Marshal of France, Monsieur de Matignon, taking pride in such noble company:

  [C] uterque bonus pads bellique minister.

  [both good officers in peace and war.]7

  [B] By those particular circumstances which she contributed herself, Fortune decided to play a part in my preferment. Nor was it entirely vain, since Alexander [C] showed contempt for [B] the ambassadors8 of Corinth who offered him the citizenship of their city, but when they happened to explain that Bacchus and Hercules were also on the roll of honour he accepted it graciously.9

  As soon as I arrived I spelled out my character faithfully and truly, just as I know myself to be – no memory, no concentration, no experience, no drive; no hatred either, no ambition, no covetousness, no ferocity – so that they should be told, and therefore know, what to expect from my service. And since the only thing which had spurred them to elect me was what they knew of my father and his honoured memory, I very clearly added that I would be most distressed if anything whatsoever were to make such inroads upon my will as the affairs of their city had made on my father’s while he was governing it in the very same situation to which I had been summoned. I can remember seeing him when I was a boy: an old man, cruelly troubled by the worries of office, forgetting the gentle atmosphere of his home (to which he had long been confined by the weakness of advancing years) as well as his estates and his health, thinking little of his own life (which he nearly lost, having been involved for them in long and arduous journeys). That was the kind of man he was: and his character arose from great natural goodness. Never was there a soul of man more charitable, more devoted to the people.

  Such ways I praise in others: but do not like to follow them myself: not without some justification. He had heard it said that one should forget oneself on behalf of one’s neighbour and that, compared to the general, the individual is of no importance.

  Most of the world’s rules and precepts do adopt such an attitude, driving us outside ourselves and hounding us into the forum in the interests of the public weal. They thought they were doing some fair deed by diverting us and withdrawing us from ourselves, taking it for granted that we were clinging too much to ourselves by a bond which was all too natural. And they left nothing to that purpose unsaid. It is no novelty that clever men should preach not things as they are but things such as might serve them. [C] Truth has its difficulties, its awkwardnesses and its incompatibilities with us. It is often necessary to deceive us so as to stop us from deceiving ourselves, hooding our eyes and dazzling our minds so as to train them and cure them. ‘Imperiti enim judicant, et qui frequenter in hoc ipsum fallendi sunt, ne errent.’ [Those who judge are inexperienced: they must needs be deceived precisely to stop them from going wrong.]10[B] When they tell us to prefer to ourselves three, four or fifty categories of objects, they are imitating the art of the bowman, who, so as to hit his target, raises his sights way above it. To straighten a piece of bent wood we bend it right over backwards.

  I reckon that in the temple of Pallas (as can be seen to be the case in all other religions) there were open secrets, to be revealed to the people, and other hidden [C] higher [B] ones,11 to be revealed only to initiates. It is likely that the true degree of love which each man owes to himself is found among the latter: not. [C] false [B] love [C] which makes us embrace glory, knowledge, riches and such-like with an immoderate primary passion, as though they were members of our being, nor a love [B] which is easy-going and random, acting like ivy which cracks and destroys the wall which it clings to, but a healthy, measured love, as useful as it is pleasant. Whoever knows its duties and practises them is truly in the treasure-house of the Muses: he has reached the pinnacle of human happiness and of man’s joy. Such a man, knowing precisely what is due to himself, finds that his role includes frequenting men and the world; to do this he must contribute to society the offices and duties which concern him. [C] He who does not live a little for others hardly lives at all for himself: ‘Qui sibi amicus est, scito hunc amicum omnibus esse.’ [Know that a man who feels loving-friendship for himself does so for all men.]12 [B] The chief charge laid upon each one of us is his own conduct: [C] that is why we are here. [B] For example, any man who forgot to live a good and holy life himself, but who thought that he had fulfilled his duties by guiding and training others to do so, would be stupid: in exactly the same way, any man who gives up a sane and happy life in order to provide one for others makes (in my opinion) a bad and unnatural decision.

  I have no wish that anyone should refuse to his tasks, when the need arises, his attention, his deeds, his words, or his sweat and blood:

  non ipse pro charts amicis

  Aut patria timidus perire.

  [personally I am not afraid of dying for Those whom I love dearly or for my country.]13

  But it will be in the form of an incidental loan, his mind meanwhile remaining quiet and sane – not without activity but without distress, without passion. Straightforward action costs him so little that he can do it in his sleep. But it must be set in motion with discernment, for whereas the body accepts whatsoever is loaded upon it according to its real weight the mind expands it and makes it heavier, often to its own cost, giving it whatever dimensions it thinks fit. With different efforts and different straining of our wills we achieve similar things. One thing does not imply the other: for how many soldiers put themselves at risk every day in wars which they care little about, rushing into danger in battles the loss of which will not make them lose a night’s sleep: meanwhile another man in his own home and far from that danger (which he would never have dared to face) is more passionate about the outcome of the war, and has his soul in greater travail over it, than the soldier who is shedding his life-blood there. I have been able to engage in public duties without going even a nail’s breadth from myself, [C] and to give myself to others without taking myself away from me.

  [B] Such a rough and violent desire is more of a hindrance than a help in carrying out our projects; it fills us with exasperation in the face of results which are slow to come or which turn against us, and with bitterness and suspicion towards those with whom we are negotiating. We can never control well any business which obsesses and controls us:

  [C] male cuncta ministrat

  Impetus.

  [violent impulses serve everything badly.]14

  [B] Anyone who brings only his judgement and talents to the task sets about it more joyfully; totally at his ease, he feints, parries or plays for time as need arises; he can fail to strike home without torment or affliction, ready and intact for a fresh encounter; when he walks he always retains the bridle in his hands. In a man who is bemused by violent and tyrannical strain there can, of necessity, be seen a great deal of unwisdom and injudiciousness. The impetus of his desire carries him along: such a motion is rash and (unless Fortune contributes much) is hardly fruitful. When we punish any injuries which we have received, philosophy wants us to avoid choler, not so as to diminish our revenge but (on the contrary) so that its blows may be weightier and better aimed: philosophy considers violent emotion to be an impediment to that.15 [C] Choler does not simply confuse: of itself it tires the arms of those who inflict chastisement; its flames confound and exhaust their strength. [B] When you are in a dashing hurry, ‘festinatio tarda est’ [haste causes delay].16 Haste trips over its own feet, tangles itself up and comes to a halt. [C] ‘Ipsa se velocitas implicat.’ [The very haste ties you in knots.] [B] For example, from what I can see to be usually the case, covetousness knows no greater hindrance than itself: the more tense and vigorous it is, the less productive it is. It commonly snaps up riches more quickly when masked by some semblance of generosity.

  A gentleman, an excellent fellow and one of my friends, nearly drove himself out of his mind by too much strain and passionate concern for the affairs of a
prince, his master: yet that self-same master17 described himself to me as one who can see the weight of a setback as well as anyone else but who resolves to put up with it whenever there is no remedy; in other cases he orders all the necessary measures to be taken (which he can do promptly because of his quick intelligence) then quietly waits for the outcome. And indeed I have seen him doing it, remaining very cool in his actions and relaxed in his expression throughout some important and ticklish engagements. I find him greater and more able in ill fortune than in good; [C] his defeats are more glorious to him than his victories: his mortifications more glorious than his triumphs.

  [B] Consider how even in vain and trivial pursuits such as chess or tennis matches, the keen and burning involvement of a rash desire at once throws your mind into a lack of discernment and your limbs into confusion: you daze yourself and tangle yourself up. A man who reacts with greater moderation towards winning or losing is always ‘at home’: the less he goads himself on, and the less passionate he is about the game, the more surely and successfully he plays it.

  Moreover we impede our soul’s grip and her grasp by giving her too much to embrace. Some things should be merely shown to her; some affixed to her and others incorporated into her. The soul can see and know all things, but she should feed only on herself; she should be taught what properly concerns her, what goods and substances are properly hers. The Laws of Nature teach us what our just needs are. The wise first tell us that no man is poor by Nature’s standards and that, by opinion’s standards, every man is; they then finely distinguish between desires coming from Nature and those coming from the unruliness of our thoughts: those whose limits we can see are hers; those which flee before us and whose end we can never reach are our own. To cure poverty of possessions is easy: poverty of soul, impossible.18