The Complete Essays of Montaigne

by Michel de Montaigne

AA strong imagination creates the event, say the scholars. I am one of those who are very much influenced by the imagination. CEveryone feels its impact, but some are overthrown by it. Its impression on me is piercing. And my art is to escape it, not to resist it. I

In this connection, I sometimes fall to thinking whether it befits a theologian, a philosopher, and such people of exquisite and exact conscience and prudence, to write history. How can they stake their fidelity on the fidelity of an ordinary person? How be responsible for the thoughts of persons unknown and give their conjectures as coin of the realm? Of complicated actions that happen in their presence they would refuse to give testimony if placed under oath by a judge; and they know no man so intimately that they would undertake to answer fully for his intentions. I consider it less hazardous to write of things past than present, inasmuch as the writer has only to give an account of a borrowed truth.

find that our greatest vices take shape from our tenderest childhood, and that our most important training is in the hands of nurses. It is a

What power does she not have in our judgments and in our beliefs? Is there any opinion so bizarre—I leave aside the gross impostures of religions, with which so many great nations and so many able men have been seen to be besotted, for since this matter is beyond the scope of our human reason, it is more excusable for anyone who is not extraordinarily enlightened by divine favor to be lost in it; but of other opinions is there any so strange—that habit has not planted and established it by law in the regions where she saw fit to do so?

AWhoever wants to get rid3 of this violent prejudice of custom will find many things accepted with undoubting resolution, which have no support but in the hoary beard and the wrinkles of the usage that goes with them; but when this mask is torn off, and he refers things to truth and reason, he will feel his judgment as it were all upset, and nevertheless restored to a much surer status.

What is more barbarous to see than a nation where by lawful custom the charge of judging is sold, and judgments are paid for in ready cash, and where justice is lawfully refused to whoever has not the wherewithal to pay; and where this merchandise has such good credit that in a government a fourth estate is formed of people handling lawsuits, to add to the three ancient ones of Church, Nobility, and People; which estate, having charge of the laws and sovereign authority over property and life, forms a body apart from that of the nobility?

It is very doubtful whether there can be such evident profit in changing an accepted law, of whatever sort it be, as there is harm in disturbing it; inasmuch as a government is like a structure of different parts joined together in such a relation that it is impossible to budge one without the whole body feeling it.

Those who give the first shock to a state are apt to be the first ones swallowed up in its ruin. CThe fruits of the trouble rarely go to the one who has stirred it up; he beats and disturbs the water for other fishermen. BThe unity and contexture of this monarchy, this great structure, having been dislocated and dissolved, especially in its old age, by this innovation, as wide an entry as one could wish is opened to similar attacks. CThe majesty of kings, says an ancient, declines less easily from the summit to the middle than it plunges from the middle to the bottom.

But if the inventors have done more harm, the imitators7 are more vicious in that they wholeheartedly follow examples whose horror and evil they have felt and punished. And if there is some degree of honor even in evil-doing, they must concede to the others the glory of invention and the courage of making the first effort.

BFor the ordinary discipline of a state that is in a healthy condition does not provide for these extraordinary accidents; it presupposes a body that holds together in its principal parts and functions, and a common consent to its observance and obedience. CThe law-abiding pace is a cold, deliberate, and constrained one, and is not the kind that can hold up against a lawless and unbridled pace.

Even in our counsels and our deliberations there must certainly be some chance and good luck mixed in; for all that our wisdom can do is not much; the sharper and livelier it is, the more weakness it finds in itself and the more it mistrusts itself.

BFor an ambitious and famous life, on the contrary, we must give way little to suspicions, and keep a tight rein on them: fear and mistrust attract and invite attack.

To submit and entrust oneself to others is an excellent way to win their heart and will, provided it be done freely and without the constraint of any necessity, and that the situation be such that we bring to it a pure and clean confidence, and at least a countenance free of any misgiving.

ASince then, as I grew older, I found that they had a very good reason for this, and that the greatest scholars are not the wisest men [proverb quoted by Rabelais]. But how it is possible that a soul rich in the knowledge of so many things should not thereby become keener and more alert, and that a crude and commonplace mind can harbor within itself, without being improved, the reasonings and judgments of the greatest minds that the world has produced—that still has me puzzled.

AI should be inclined to say that as plants are stifled with too much moisture, and lamps with too much oil, so too much study and matter stifles the action of the mind, which, being caught and entangled in a great variety of things, may lose the ability to break loose, and be kept bent and huddled down by its burden.

But it works the other way, for the more our soul is filled, the larger it becomes. And in the examples from olden times, we see as further proof to the contrary that able men in the handling of public matters, great captains, and great counselors in affairs of state, have at the same time been very learned.

ABut what is worse, their students and their little ones are not nourished and fed with their learning either; it passes from hand to hand for the sole purpose of making a show of it, talking to others and telling stories about it; like chits that have no other value and use than to be counted and thrown away. CThey have learned to speak among others, not with themselves [Cicero]. Not talking, but steering, is needed [Seneca].

CFor we must not only acquire wisdom, but profit by it [Cicero].

AIf our soul does not go at a better gait, if we do not have sounder judgment for all our learning, I had just as lief my student had spent his time playing tennis: at least his body would be the blither. See him come back from there, after fifteen or sixteen years put in: there is nothing so unfit for use. All the advantage you recognize is that his Latin and Greek have made him more conceited and arrogant than when he left home. CHe should have brought back his soul full; he brings it back only swollen; he has only inflated it instead of enlarging it.

AWhoever will closely observe this sort of people, who are very widespread, will find, as I have, that most of the time they understand neither themselves nor others, and that they have a full enough memory but an entirely hollow judgment, unless their nature has of itself fashioned it otherwise: as I have seen in Adrianus Turnebus, who, having had no other profession but letters, in which, in my opinion, he was the greatest man that has been in a thousand years, had nevertheless nothing pedantic about him but the gown he wore and a certain external mannerism that might not be civilized by a courtier’s standard, which are things of no importance.

—what is the use of learning, if understanding is absent? Would God that, for the good of our justice, those bodies were as well furnished with understanding and conscience as they are with learning!

Knowledge is a good drug; but no drug is strong enough to preserve itself without alteration and corruption, according to the taint of the vessel that contains it. A given man sees clear but not straight, and consequently sees the good and does not follow it, and sees knowledge and does not use it.

They wanted to take a short cut; and since it is a fact that learning, even when it is taken most directly, can only teach us about wisdom, integrity, and resolution, they wanted to put their children from the first in contact with deeds, and instruct them, not by hearsay, but by the test of action, forming and molding them in a living way, not only by precepts and words, but principally by examples and works; so that learning might be not merely a knowledge in their soul, but its character and habit; not an acquisition but a natural possession.

Examples teach us, both in that martial government and in all others like it, that the pursuit of knowledge makes men’s hearts soft and effeminate more than it makes them strong and warlike.

CJust as in agriculture the operations that come before the planting, as well as the planting itself, are certain and easy; but as soon as the plant comes to life, there are various methods and great difficulties in raising it; so it is with men: little industry is needed to plant them, but it is quite a different burden we assume from the moment of their birth, a burden full of care and fear—that of training them and bringing them up.

AThe manifestation of their inclinations is so slight and so obscure at that early age, the promises so uncertain and misleading, that it is hard to base any solid judgment on them.

ALet his conscience and his virtue shine forth in his speech, Cand be guided only by reason. ALet him be made to understand that to confess the flaw he discovers in his own argument, though it be still unnoticed except by himself, is an act of judgment and sincerity, which are the principal qualities he seeks; Cthat obstinacy and contention are vulgar qualities, most often seen in the meanest souls; that to change his mind and correct himself, to give up a bad position at the height of his ardor, are rare, strong, and philosophical qualities.

AWonderful brilliance may be gained for human judgment by getting to know men. We are all huddled and concentrated in ourselves, and our vision is reduced to the length of our nose. Socrates was asked where he was from. He replied not “Athens,” but “The world.” He, whose imagination was fuller and more extensive, embraced the universe as his city, and distributed his knowledge, his company, and his affections to all mankind, unlike us who look only at what is underfoot.

This great world, which some multiply further as being only a species under one genus, is the mirror in which we must look at ourselves to recognize ourselves from the proper angle. In short, I want it to be the book of my student. So many humors, sects, judgments, opinions, laws, and customs teach us to judge sanely of our own, and teach our judgment to recognize its own imperfection and natural weakness, which is no. small lesson. So many state disturbances and changes of public fortune teach us not to make a great miracle out of our own. So many names, so many victories and conquests, buried in oblivion, make it ridiculous to hope to perpetuate our name by the capture of ten mounted archers and some chicken coop known only by its fall.

It is a strange fact that things should be in such a pass in our century that philosophy, even with people of understanding, should be an empty and fantastic name, a thing of no use and no value, Cboth in common opinion and in fact.

AThe soul in which philosophy dwells should by its health make even the body healthy. It should make its tranquillity and gladness shine out from within; should form in its own mold the outward demeanor, and consequently arm it with graceful pride, an active and joyous bearing, and a contented and good-natured countenance. CThe surest sign of wisdom is constant cheerfulness; her state is like that of things above the moon, ever serene.

Virtue’s tool is moderation, not strength.

AFor all this education I do not want the boy to be made a prisoner. I do not want him to be given up to the surly humors of a choleric schoolmaster. I do not want to spoil his mind by keeping him in torture and at hard labor, as others do, fourteen or fifteen hours a day, like a porter. CNor would I think it good, if by virtue of some solitary and melancholy streak he were found to be addicted to the study of books with too undiscerning application, for him to be encouraged in that direction; such application makes them unfit for social intercourse and diverts them from better occupations. And how many men I have seen in my time made stupid by rash avidity for learning! Carneades became so mad about it that he had no time left to take care of his hair and nails.

But, among other things, I have always disliked the discipline of most of our schools. They might have erred less harmfully by leaning toward indulgence. They are a real jail of captive youth. They make them slack, by punishing them for slackness before they show it. Go in at lesson time: you hear nothing but cries, both from tortured boys and from masters drunk with rage. What a way to arouse zest for their lesson in these tender and timid souls, to guide them to it with a horrible scowl and hands armed with rods! Wicked and pernicious system! Besides, as Quintilian very rightly remarked, this imperious authority brings on dangerous consequences, and especially in our manner of punishment.

While the body is still supple, it should for that reason be bent to all fashions and customs. And provided his appetite and will can be kept in check, let a young man boldly be made fit for all nations and companies, even for dissoluteness and excess, if need be. CLet his training follow usage. ALet him be able to do all things, and love to do only the good.

Provided our pupil is well equipped with substance, words will follow only too readily; if they won’t follow willingly, he will drag them. I hear some making excuses for not being able to express themselves, and pretending to have their heads full of many fine things, but to be unable to express them for lack of eloquence. That is all bluff. Do you know what I think those things are? They are shadows that come to them of some shapeless conceptions, which they cannot untangle and clear up within, and consequently cannot set forth without: they do not understand themselves yet.

He does not know rhetoric, or how in a preface to capture the benevolence of the gentle reader; nor does he care to know it. In truth, all this fine painting is easily eclipsed by the luster of a simple natural truth.

Before or after, a useful maxim or a fine touch is always in season. CIf it does not suit what precedes or what follows, it is good in itself. AI am not one of those who think that good rhythm makes a good poem. Let him make a short syllable long if he wants, that doesn’t matter; if the inventions are pleasant, if wit and judgment have done their work well, I shall say: There is a good poet, but a bad versifier.

As in dress it is pettiness to seek attention by some peculiar and unusual fashion, so in language the search for novel phrases and little-known words comes from a childish and pedantic ambition.

The imitation of speech, because of its facility, may be quickly picked up by a whole people; the imitation of judgment and invention does not come so fast. Most readers, because they have found a similar robe, think very wrongly that they have hold of a similar body. Strength and sinews are not to be borrowed; the attire and the cloak may be borrowed. Most of the people who frequent me speak like these Essays; but I don’t know whether they think like them.

Second, just as people frantically eager to be cured will try any sort of advice, that good man, being extremely afraid of failing in a thing so close to his heart, at last let himself be carried away by the common opinion, which always follows the leader like a flock of cranes, and fell in line with custom, having no longer about him the men who had given him those first plans, which he had brought from Italy.

APerhaps it is not without reason that we attribute facility in belief and conviction to simplicity and ignorance; for it seems to me I once learned that belief was a sort of impression made on our mind, and that the softer and less resistant the mind, the easier it was to imprint something on

The more a mind is empty and without counterpoise, the more easily it gives beneath the weight of the first persuasive argument. AThat is why children, common people, women, and sick people are most subject to being led by the ears. But then, on the other hand, it is foolish presumption to go around disdaining and condemning as false whatever does not seem likely to us; which is an ordinary vice in those who think they have more than common ability.

AWe must judge with more reverence the infinite power of nature, and with more consciousness of our ignorance and weakness. How many things of slight probability there are, testified to by trustworthy people, which, if we cannot be convinced of them, we should at least leave in suspense! For to condemn them as impossible is to pretend, with rash presumption, to know the limits of possibility. CIf people rightly understood the difference between the impossible and the unusual, and between what is contrary to the orderly course of nature and what is contrary to the common opinion of men, neither believing rashly nor disbelieving easily, they would observe the rule of “nothing too much,” enjoined by Chilo.

AFrom children toward fathers, it is rather respect. Friendship feeds on communication, which cannot exist between them because of their too great inequality, and might perhaps interfere with the duties of nature. For neither can all the secret thoughts of fathers be communicated to children, lest this beget an unbecoming intimacy, nor could the admonitions and corrections, which are one of the chief duties of friendship, be administered by children to fathers.

Friendship, on the contrary, is enjoyed according as it is desired; it is bred, nourished, and increased only in enjoyment, since it is spiritual, and the soul grows refined by practice. During the reign of this perfect friendship those fleeting affections once found a place in me, not to speak of my friend, who confesses only too many of them in these verses. Thus these two passions within me came to be known to each other, but to be compared, never; the first keeping its course in proud and lofty flight, and disdainfully watching the other making its way far, far beneath it.

AFor the rest, what we ordinarily call friends and friendships are nothing but acquaintanceships and familiarities formed by some chance or convenience, by means of which our souls are bound to each other. In the friendship I speak of, our souls mingle and blend with each other so completely that they efface the seam that joined them, and cannot find it again. If you press me to tell why I loved him, I feel that this cannot be expressed, Cexcept by answering: Because it was he, because it was I.

AAs if our touch were infectious, we by our handling corrupt things that of themselves are beautiful and good. We can grasp virtue in such a way that it will become vicious, if we embrace it with too sharp and violent a desire. Those who say that there is never any excess in virtue, inasmuch as it is no longer virtue if there is excess in it, are playing with words:

The archer who overshoots the target misses as much as the one who does not reach it. And my eyes trouble me as much when I raise them suddenly to a strong light as when I drop them into the shadow. Callicles, in Plato, says that the extremity of philosophy is harmful, and advises us not to plunge into it beyond the limits of profit; that, taken with moderation, it is pleasant and advantageous, but that in the end it makes a man wild and vicious, disdainful of common religions and laws, an enemy of social intercourse, an enemy of human pleasures, incapable of any political administration and of helping either others or himself, fit to be slapped with impunity. He speaks truly, for in its excess it enslaves our natural freedom and, by importunate subtlety, leads us astray from the fine and level road that nature has traced for us.

The branches of knowledge that regulate men’s morals, like theology and philosophy, enter in everywhere. There is no action so private and secret that it escapes their cognizance and jurisdiction. CVery immature are those who criticize this liberty of theirs.