502
ESSAYS
of uncommon virtue, Olivier and L'H6pital, chancellors of France.
It seems to me that poetry too has flourished in our century. We have
a wealth of good craftsmen in that trade: Daurat, Beza, Buchanan,
L'H6pital, Montdore, Turnebus. As for those writing in French, I think
they have raised its poetry to the highest point it will ever reach; �nd
in the respects in which Ronsard and Du Bellay excel, I do not conslder
them far removed from the perfection of the ancients. Adrianus Turne­
bus knew more, and knew better what he knew, than any man that lived
in his time or for many years before.
BThe lives of the duke of Alva, who died recently, and of our Constable de Montmorency were noble lives that had many rare similarities
in fortune. But the beauty and glory of the latter's death, suddenly
and in extreme old age, before the eyes of Paris and his king and in
their service against his nearest kin, commanding an army victorious
through his leadership, deserves, I think, to be placed among the no­
table events of my time. eso do the constant goodness, the gentle co�­
duct and the conscientious affability of Monsieur de La Noue, amId
such'injustice of armed factions, true school of treachery, inhumanity,
and brigandage, in which he was brought up-a great and very experienced warrior.
I have taken pleasure in making public in several places the hopes
I have for Marie de Gournay Ie Jars, my covenant daughter, whom I
love indeed more than a daughter of my own, and cherish in my retire­
ment and solitude as one of the best parts of my own being. She is the
only person I still think about in the world. If youthful pr�mise means
anything, her soul will some day be capabl� of the fi�est t mgs, �mong
others of perfection in that most sacred kind of frlendship whIch, so
we read her sex has not yet been able to attain. The sincerity and
'
firmness of her character are already sufficient, her affection for me
more than superabundant, and such, in short, that it leaves nothing
to be desired, unless that her apprehension about my end, in view of
my fifty-five years when I met her, would not torment her so cruelly.
The judgment she made of the first Essays, she a woman, and in this
age, and so young, and alone in her district, and the remarkable eager­
ness with which she loved me and wanted my fTiendship for a long
time, simply through the esteem she formed for me before she had seen
me, is a phenomenon very worthy of consideration.·
AThe other virtues are given little or no value nowadays; but valor
has become common through our civil wars, and in this respect there
are among us souls firm to the point of perfection, and in great numbers,
so that a choice is impossible.
This is all the extraordinary and uncommon greatness that I have
known up to this moment.
�
4 This paragraph, which does not appear in the Bordeaux Copy, is of doubtful
authenticity.
18 OJ giving the lie
AYes, but someone will tell me that this plan of using oneself as a
subject to write about would be excusable in rare and famous men
who by their reputation had aroused some desire to know them. That
is certain; I admit it; and I know full well that to see a man of the com­
mon sort, an artisan will hardly raise his eyes from his work, whereas
to see a great and prominent personage arrive in a city, men leave
workshops and stores empty. It ill befits anyone to make himself known
save him who has q1,lalities to be imitated, and whose life and opinions
may serve as a model. In the greatness of their deeds Caesar and
Xenophon had something to found and establish their narrative upon,
as on a just and solid base. Desirable therefore would be the journals
of Alexander the Great, and the commentaries that Augustus,. CCato,
ASuIla, Brutus, and others left about their deeds. People love and study
the figures of such men, even in bronze and stone.
This remonstrance is very true, but it concerns me only very little:
Only to friends do I recite, and on request,
Not to all men, or everywhere. Some will not rest,
And keep reciting in the Forum or the baths.
HORACE
I am not building here a statue to erect a t the town
crossroads, or in
a church or a public square:
BI do not aim to swell my page full-blown
With windy trifles. .
.
.
We two talk alone.
PERSIUS
�
A his is for a nook in a library, and to amuse a neighbor, a relative, a
fnend, who may take pleasure in associating and conversing with me
again in this image. Others have taken courage to speak of themselves
because they found the subject worthy and rich; I, on the contrary,
because I have found mine so barren and so meager that no suspicion
of ostentation can fall upon my plan.
er willingly judge the actions of others; I give little chance to judge
mine because of their nullity. BI do not find so much good in myself
·that I cannot tell it without blushing.
AWhat a satisfaction it would be to me to hear someone tell me
in this way, of the habits, the face, the expression, the favorite re�
marks, and the fortunes of my ancestorsl How attentive I would bel
Truly it would spring from a bad nature to be scornful of even the
portraits of our friends and predecessors, ethe form of their clothes
and their armor. I keep their handwriting, their seal, the breviary and
a peculiar sword that they used, and I have not banished from my
study some long sticks that my father ordinarily carried in his hand.
504
II: 18
ESSAYS
A father's coat and his ring are the more dear to his children the more
they loved him [Saint Augustine].
AHowever, if my descendants have other tastes, I shall have ample
means for revenge: for they could not possibly have less concern about
me than I shall have about them by that time.
All the contact I have with the public in this book is that I borrow
their tools of printing, as being swifter and easier. In recompense,
cperhaps I shall keep some pat of butter from melting in the market
place.
ALest tunny-fish and olives lack a robe.
MARTIAL
BTo mackerel 111 often give a shirt.
CATULLUS
cAnd if no one reads me, have I wasted my time, entertaining my­
self for so many idle hours with such useful and agreeable thoughts?
In modeling this figure upon myself, I have had to fashion and com­
pose myself so often to bring myself out, that the model itself has to
some extent grown firm and taken shape. Painting myself for others,
I have painted my inward self with colors clearer than my original
ones. I have no more made my book than my book has made me-a
book consubstantial with its author, concerned with my own self, an
integral part of my life; not concerned with some third-hand, extraneous
purpose, like all other books. Have I wasted my time by taking stock
of myself so continually, so carefully? For those who go over themselves
only in their minds and occasionally in speech do not penetrate to essen­
tials in their examination as does a man who makes that his study, his
work, and his trade, who binds himself to keep an enduring account,
with all his faith, with all his strength.
Indeed, the most delightful pleasures are digested inwardly, avoid
leaving any traces, and avoid the sight not only of the public but of
any other person.
How many times has this task diverted me from annoying cogita­
tionsl And all frivolous ones should be counted as annoying. Nature
has made us a present of a broad capacity for entertaining ourselves
apart, and often calls us to do so, to teach us that we owe ourselves
. in part to society, but in the best part to ourselves. In order to train
my fancy even to dream with some order and purpose, and in order
to keep it from losing its way and roving with the wind, there is noth­
ing like embodying and registering all the little thoughts that come to
it. I listen to my reveries because I have to record them. How many
times, irritated by some action that civility and reason kept me from
reproving openly, have I disgorged it here, nQj:;wjth�ll,lt ideas otJ!l­
structing the publici And indeed, these poetic lashes•
Bang in the eye, bang on the snout,
Bang on the back of the apish loutl
MAROT
Of giving the lie
505
-imprint themselves even better on paper than on living flesh. What if I
lend a slightly more attentive ear to books, since I have· been lying in
wait to pilfer something from them to adorn or support my own?
I have not studied one bit to make a book; but I have studied a bit
because I had made it, if it is studying a bit to skim over and pinch,
by his head or his feet, now one author, now another; not at all to form
my opinions, but certainly to assist, second, and serve those which I
formed long ago.
ABut whom shall we believe when he talks about himself, in so
corrupt an age, seeing that there are few or none whom we can be­
lieve when they speak of others, where there is less incentive for
lying? The first stage in the corruption of morals is the banishment of
truth; for, as Pindar said, to be truthful is the beginning of a great
virtue, cand is the first article that Plato requires in the governor of his
Republic. AOur, truth of nowadays is not what is, but what others can
be convinced of; just as we call "money" not only that which is legal,
but also any counterfeit that will pass. Our nation has long been re­
proached for this vice; for Salvianus of Massilia, who lived in the time
of the Emperor Valentinian, says that to the French lying and perjury
are not a vice but a manner. of speaking. 1£ a man wanted to go this
testimony one better, he could say that it is now a virtue to them. Men
form and fashion themselves for it as for an honorable practice; for
dissimulation is among the most notable qualities of this century.
Thus I have often considered what could be the source of that cus­
tom, which we observe so religiously, of feeling more bitterly offended
when reproached with this vice, which is so common among us, than
with any other; and that it should be the worst insult that can be given
us in words, to reproach us with lying. On that, I find that it is natural
to defend ourselves most for the defects with which we are most be­
smirched. It seems that in resenting the accusation and growing ex­
cited about it, we unburden ourselves to some extent of the guilt; if
we have it in fact, at least we condemn it in appearance.
BWould it not also be that this reproach seems to involve cowardice
and lack of courage? Is there any more obvious cowardice than to deny
our own word? Worse yet, to deny what we know?
ALying is an ugly vice, which an ancient paints in most shameful
colors when he says that it is giving evidence of contempt for God,
and at the same time of fear of men. It is not possible to represent more
vividlv the horror, the vileness, and the profligacy of it. For what can
you imagine uglier than bejng a coward toward men and bold to­
ward God? Since mutual understanding is brought about solely by
way of words, he who breaks his word betrays human society. It is the
only instrument by means of which our wills and thoughts communi­
cate, it is the interpreter of our soul. 1£ it fails us, we have no more
hold on each other, no more knowledge of �ach other. 1£ it deceives
us, it breaks up all our relations and dissolves all the bonds of our
. society.
BCertain nations of the new Indies (there is, no use mentioning
506
ESSAYS
their names, which are no more; for the desolation of their conquest­
a monstrous and unheard-of case-has extended even to the entire
abolition of the names and former knowledge of the places) offered
to their gods human blood, but only such as was drawn from their
tongue and ears, in expiation of the sin of falsehood, heard as well as
uttered.
AThat worthy fellow from Greece used to say that children play
with knucklebones, men with words.
As for the varied etiquette of giving the lie, and our laws of honor
in that matter, and the changes they have undergone, I shall put off
till another time telling what I know about that, and shall meanwhile
learn, if I can, at what time the custom began of weighing and meas­
uring words so exactly, and attaching our honor to them. For it is easy
to see that it did not exist in olden times among the Romans and the
Greeks. And it has often seemed to me novel and strange to see them
giving each other the lie and insulting each other, without having
a quarrel over it. The laws of their duty took some other path than
ours. Caesar is called now a robber, now a drunkard, to his face. We
see how free are the invectives they use against each other, I mean
the greatest warlords of both nations, where words are avenged merely
by words, and do not lead to other consequences.
II: 19
507
Of freedom of conscience
nevertheless not one single complete copy was able to escape the care­
ful search of those who wanted to abolish them because of five or six
insignificant sentences contrary to our belief.
They also had this habit, of readily lending false praises to all
the emperors who helped us and of universally condemning all the
.
actions of those who were hostile to us; as it is easy to see in the case
of the Emperor Julian, surnamed the Apostate.1
He was, in truth, a very great and rare man, being one whose soul
was deeply dyed with the arguments of philosophy, by which he pro­
fessed to regulate all his actions; and indeed there is no sort of virtue
of whic? he did not leave ;-rery no able examples. In point of chastity
(of whic the c?ur�e of his life gIves very clear testimony), we read
of an action of his like those of Alexander and Scipio, that out of many
very beautiful captive women he would not even look at one and this
in the flower of his age, for he was killed by the Part.h.ians at e age of
only thirty-one.
As for justice, he took the trouble to hear the disputants himself.
and although out of curiosity he informed himself of the religion o
thos� who aP1?eared before him, at all events the enmity he bore to ours
. the scales. He himself made many good laws and
carned no weIght m
cut out a large part of the subsidies and taxes that his predecessor had
levied.
We have two good historians who were eyewitnesses of his actions
o?,e of whom, Marcellinus, sharply blames, in various parts of hi
history, that ordinance of his by which he barred the schools and for­
bade teaching to all Christian rhetoricians and grammarians; and he
�ay � that he could wish that action of his to be buried in silence. It
IS likely that if he had done anything harsher against us, Marcellinus
would not have forgotten it, being very well affected to our side.
He was a harsh enemy to us, in truth, but not a cruel one. For even
our �wn people tell of him this story, that as he was walking about
the Clty of Chalcedon one day, Maris, the bishop of the place, actually
dared to call him a wicked traitor to Christ, and that he did nothing
about it except to answer: "Go, wretched man, and weep for the loss
of your eyes." To which the bishop further replied: "I give thanks to
Jesus Christ for ha ?g tak�n away my sight, so that I may not see
.
your lmpu�ent face. In thIS, they say, Julian was affecting a philo­
.
SOphIC patience. At all events, that action cannot be reconciled with
the cruelties that they say he exercised against us. He was (says Eu-
�
�
th
f
�
�
19 Of freedom of conscience
Alt is ordinary to see good intentions, if they are carried out with­
out moderation, push men to very vicious acts. In this controversy
on whose account France is at present agitated by civil wars, the best
and soundest side is undoubtedly that which maintains both the old
religion and the old government of the country. However, among
the good men who follow that side (for I speak not of those who use
it as a pretext either to wreak their private vengeances, or to supply
their avarice, or to pursue the favor of princes; but of those who follow
it out of tnie zeal toward their religion and a holy concern for maintain­
ing the peace and the status of their fatherland)-of these, I say, we
see many whom passion drives outside the bounds of reason, and makes
them sometimes adopt unjust, violent, and even reckless courses.
It is certain that in those early times when our religion began to
gain authority with the laws, zeal armed many believers against every
sort of pagan books, thus causing men of letters to suffer an extraordi- .
nary loss. I consider that this excess did more harm to letters than all
the bonfires of the barbarians. Of this Cornelius Tacitus is a good wit­
ness: for although the Emperor Tacitus, his kinsman, had by express
ordinances populated all the libraries in the world with his works,
,,!
1 Montaigne's defense of Julian was one of the items blamed by the papal cen­
Other
sors when they examined his Essays during his stay in Rome in
were
criticisms, which Montaigne reports in his Travelloomal (March
for overuse of the word "fortune" (passim), praising heretics as poets (II:
demanding that men be free from evil impulses when praying (I:
p.
passim), blaming as cruelty any punishment more severe than plain death (I:
and wanting a child to be fit to do either good
p.
II:
p.
p.
II:
or evIl, so that he mll¥ do good through free choicft
The only changes
p.
'
.
made on this accol:nt were insignificant.
MontaIgne
1580-81
20, 158i),
502),
15.5; 11, 314;
27, 530),
(1:,26, 123).
17
56'
31: