ESSAYS of Michel de Montaigne translated by Charles
Cotton
THE
world is nothing but variety and dissemblance: vices are all alike, as they are
vices, and perhaps the Stoics understand them so; but although they are equally
vices, yet they are not at all equal vices; and he who has transgressed the
ordinary bounds of a hundred paces,
Short of which or beyond which there is
no right path, — Horace
should not be in a worse
condition than he that has advanced but ten, is not to be believed; or that
sacrilege is not worse than stealing a cabbage from our garden:
Nor
will reason convince me that the sin's the same
To
trample someone's cabbages, as without shame
To
rob by night the sacred temples of the gods.
— Horace
There is in this as great
diversity is in anything whatever.
The
confounding of the order and measure of sins is dangerous: murderers, traitors,
and tyrants get too much by it, and it is not reasonable they should flatter
their consciences, because another man is idle, lascivious, or not assiduous at
his devotion. Every one lays weight upon the sin of his companions, but
lightens his own. Our very instructors themselves rank them sometimes, in my
opinion, very ill.
As
Socrates said that the principal office of wisdom was to distinguish good from
evil, we, the best of whom are vicious, ought also to say the same of the
science of distinguishing between vice and vice, without which, and that very
exactly performed, the virtuous and the wicked will remain confounded and
unrecognized.
Now,
among the rest, drunkenness seems to me to be a gross and brutish vice. The
soul has greater part in the rest, and there are some vices that have
something, if a man may so say, of generous in them; there are vices wherein
there is a mixture of knowledge, diligence, valor, prudence, dexterity and
address; this one is totally corporeal and earthly. And the rudest nation this
day in Europe is that alone where it is in fashion. Other vices discompose the
understanding: this totally overthrows it and renders the body stupid.
When
we are conquered by the strength of wine,
Our
limbs grow heavy, our legs intertwine;
With
sodden mind, slow tongue, and swimming eyes,
We
reel amid the hiccups, brawls and cries.
— Lucretius
The worst state of man is
that wherein he loses the knowledge and government of himself. And 'tis said,
among other things upon this subject, that, as the must fermenting in a vessel,
works up to the top whatever it has in the bottom, so wine, in those who have
drunk beyond measure, vents the most inward secrets.
In Bacchic revel
The
sage to you his cares
And
secret counsel bares. — Horace
Josephus
tells us that by giving an ambassador the enemy had sent to him his full dose
of liquor, he wormed out his secrets. And yet, Augustus, committing the most
inward secrets of his affairs to Lucius Piso, who conquered Thrace, never found
him faulty in the least, no more than Tiberius did Cossus, with whom he
intrusted his whole counsels, though we know they were both so given to drink
that they have often been fain to carry both the one and the other drunk out of
the senate.
His
veins, as always, swollen with wine of yesterday. — Virgil
And the design of killing
Caesar was as safely communicated to Cimber, though he would often be drunk, as
to Cassius, who drank nothing but water. We see our Germans, when drunk as the
devil, know their post, remember the word, and keep to their ranks:
Steeped
though they are in wine, drunk, staggering
Beating
them down is still no easy thing.
—Juvenal
I
could not have believed there had been so profound, senseless, and dead a
degree of drunkenness had I not read in history that Attalus, having, to put a
notable affront upon him, invited to supper the same Pausanias, who upon the
very same occasion afterward killed Philip of Macedon, a king who by his
excellent qualities gave sufficient testimony of his education in the house and
company of Epaminondas, made him drink to such a pitch that he could after
abandon his beauty, as of a hedge strumpet, to the muleteers and servants of
the basest office in the house. And I have been further told by a lady whom I
highly honor and esteem, that near Bordeaux and about Castres where she lives,
a country woman, a widow of chaste repute, perceiving in herself the first
symptoms of breeding, innocently told her neighbors that if she had a husband
she should think herself with child; but the causes of suspicion every day more
and more increasing, and at last growing up to a manifest proof, the poor woman
was reduced to the necessity of causing it to be proclaimed in her parish
church, that whoever had done that deed and would frankly confess it, she did
not only promise to forgive, but moreover to marry him, if he liked the motion;
whereupon a young fellow that served her in the quality of a laborer,
encouraged by this proclamation, declared that he had one holiday found her,
having taken too much of the bottle, so fast asleep by the chimney and in so
indecent a posture, that he could conveniently do his business without waking
her; and they yet live together man and wife. It is true that antiquity has not
much decried this vice; the writings even of several philosophers speak very
tenderly of it, and even among the Stoics there are some who advise folks to
give themselves sometimes the liberty to drink, nay, to drunkenness, to refresh
the soul.
In
this contest like others, so they say,
The
great Socrates bore the prize away.
—Maximianus
That
censor and reprover of others, Cato, was reproached that he was a hard drinker.
Old
Cato's virtue drew from wine,
So
we are told, a glow more fine.
—Horace
Cyrus, that so renowned king,
among the other qualities by which he claimed to be preferred before his
brother Artaxerxes, urged this excellence, that he could drink a great deal
more than he. And in the best governed nations this trial of skill in drinking
is very much in use. I have heard Silvius, an excellent physician of Paris, say
that lest the digestive faculties of the stomach should grow idle, it were not
amiss once a month to rouse them by this excess, and to spur them lest they
should grow dull and rusty; and one author tells us that the Persians used to
consult about their most important affairs after being well warmed with wine.
My
taste and constitution are greater enemies to this vice than I am; for besides
that I easily submit my belief to the authority of ancient opinions, I look
upon it indeed as an unmanly and stupid vice, but less malicious and hurtful
than the others, which, almost all, more directly jostle public society. And if
we cannot please ourselves but it must cost us something, as they hold, I find
this vice costs a man's conscience less than the others, besides that it is of
no difficult preparation, nor hard to be found, a consideration not altogether
to be despised.
A
man well advanced both in dignity and age, among three principal commodities
that he said remained to him of life, reckoned to me this for one, and where
would a man more justly find it than among the natural conveniences? But he did
not take it right, for delicacy and the curious choice of wines is therein to
be avoided. If you found your pleasure upon drinking of the best, you condemn
yourself to the penance of drinking of the worst. Your taste must be more
indifferent and free; so delicate a palate is not required to make a good
toper. The Germans drink almost indifferently of all wines with delight: their
business is to pour down and not to taste; and it's so much the better for
them; their pleasure is so much the more plentiful and nearer at hand.
Secondly,
to drink, after the French fashion, but at two meals, and then very moderately,
is to be too sparing of the favors of the god. There is more time and constancy
required than so. The ancients spent whole nights in this exercise, and
ofttimes added the day following to eke it out, and therefore we are to take
greater liberty and stick closer to our work. I have seen a great lord of my
time, a man of high enterprise and famous success, that without setting himself
to it, and after his ordinary rate of drinking at meals, drank not much less
than five quarts of wine, and at his going away appeared but too wise and
discreet, to the detriment of our affairs.
The
pleasure we hold in esteem for the course of our lives ought to have a greater
share of our time dedicated to it; we should, like shop-boys and laborers,
refuse no occasion nor omit any opportunity of drinking, and always have it in
our minds. Methinks we every day abridge and curtail the use of wine, and that
the after breakfasts, dinner snatches, and collations I used to see in my
father's house, when I was a boy, were more usual and frequent then than now.
Is it that we pretend to a reformation? Truly, no.; but it may be we are more
addicted to Venus than our fathers were. They are two exercises that thwart and
hinder one another in their vigor. Lechery weakens our stomach on the one side,
and on the other, sobriety renders us more spruce and amorous for the exercise
of love.
'Tis
not to be imagined what strange stories I have heard my father tell of the
chastity of that age wherein he lived. It was for him to say it, being both by
art and nature cut out and finished for the service of ladies. He spoke well
and little; ever mixing his language with some illustration out of authors most
in use, especially in Spanish. Marcus Aurelius was very frequent in his mouth.
His behavior was grave, humble, and very modest; he was very solicitous of
neatness and propriety both in his person and clothes, whether on horseback or
afoot; he was monstrously punctual of his word; and of a conscience and
religion generally tending rather toward superstition than otherwise. For a man
of little stature, very strong, well proportioned, and well knit; of a pleasing
countenance, inclining to brown, and very adroit in all noble exercises. I have
yet in the house to be seen canes poured full of lead, with which they say he
exercised his arms for throwing the bar or the stone, or in fencing; and shoes
with leaden soles to make him lighter for running or leaping. Of his vaulting
he has left little miracles behind him; I have seen him when past three score
laugh at our exercises, and throw himself in his furred gown into the saddle,
make the tour of a table upon his thumbs, and scarce ever mount the stairs into
his chamber without taking three or four steps at a time. But as to what I was
speaking of before, he said there was scarce one woman of quality of ill fame
in a whole province: he would tell of strange privacies, and some of them his
own, with virtuous women, free from any manner of suspicion of ill; and for his
own part solemnly swore he was a virgin at his marriage; and yet it was after a
long practice of arms beyond the mountains, of which wars he left us a journal
under his own hand, wherein he has given a precise account from point to point
of all passages, both relating to the public and to himself. And he was,
moreover, married at a well advanced maturity, in the year 1528, the
three-and-thirtieth year of his age, upon his way home from Italy. But let us
return to our bottle.
The
incommodities of old age, that stand in need of some refreshment and support,
might with reason beget in me a desire of this faculty, it being as it were the
last pleasure the course of years deprives us of. The natural heat, say the
good-fellows, first seats itself in the feet: that concerns infancy; thence it
mounts into the middle region, where it makes a long abode and produces, in my
opinion, the sole true pleasures of human life; all other pleasures in
comparison sleep; toward the end, like a vapor that still mounts upward, it
arrives at the throat, where it makes its final residence, and concludes the
progress.
I do
not, nevertheless, understand how a man can extend the pleasure of drinking
beyond thirst, and forge in his imagination an appetite artificial and against
nature; my stomach would not proceed so far; it has enough to do to deal with
what it takes in for its necessity. My constitution is not to care for drink
but as following eating and washing down my meat, and for that reason my last
draught is always the greatest. And seeing that in old age we have our palate
furred with phlegms or depraved by some other ill constitution, the wine tastes
better to us as the pores are cleaner washed and laid more open. At least, I
seldom taste the first glass well. Anacharsis wondered that the Greeks drank in
greater glasses toward the end of a meal than at the beginning; which was, I
suppose, for the same reason the Germans do the same, who then begin the battle
of drink.
Plato
forbids children wine till eighteen years of age, and to get drunk till forty;
but, after forty, gives them leave to please themselves, and to mix a little
liberally in their feasts the influence of Dionysos, that good deity who restores to younger men their
gayety, and to old men their youth; who mollifies the passions of the soul, as
iron is softened by fire; and in his laws allows such merry meetings, provided
they have a discreet chief to govern and keep them in order, as good and of
great utility; drunkenness being, he says, a true and certain trial of every
one's nature, and, withal, fit to inspire old men with mettle to divert
themselves in dancing and music; things of great use, and that they dare not
attempt when sober. He, moreover, says that wine is able to supply the soul
with temperance and the body with health. Nevertheless, these restrictions, in
part borrowed from the Carthaginians, please him: that men forbear excesses in
the expeditions of war; that every judge and magistrate abstain from it when
about the administrations of his place or the consultations of the public
affairs; that the day is not to be employed with it, that being a time due to
other occupations, nor the night on which a man intends to get children.
'Tis
said that the philosopher Stilpo, when oppressed with age, purposely hastened
his end by drinking pure wine. The same thing, but not designed by him,
dispatched also the philosopher Arcesilaus. But, 'tis an old and pleasant
question, whether the soul of a wise man can be overcome by the strength of
wine?
If wine can storm the very fort of wisdom.
—Horace
To what vanity does the good
opinion we have of ourselves push us? The most regular and most perfect soul in
the world has but too much to do to keep itself upright, and from being overthrown
by its own weakness. There is not one of a thousand that is right and settled
so much as one minute in a whole life, and that may not very well doubt,
whether according to her natural condition she ever can be; but to join
constancy to it is her utmost perfection; I mean when nothing should jostle and
discompose her, which a thousand accidents may do.
'Tis
to much purpose that the great poet Lucretius keeps such a clatter with his
philosophy, when, behold! he goes mad with a love philter. Is it to be imagined
that an apoplexy will not stun Socrates as well as a porter? Some men have
forgotten their own names by the violence of a disease; and a slight wound has
turned the judgment of others topsey-turvey.
Let
him be as wise as he will, after all he is but a man; and than that what is
there more frail, more miserable, or more nothing? Wisdom does not overcome our
natural limitations.
Over
the whole body therefore we see arise
Pallor
ans sweat; the tongue is tied, and the voice dies,
The
eyes grow dim, ears ring, the limbs give way;
The
whole at last collapses from the terror of the soul.
— Lucretius
He must shut his eyes against
the blow that threatens him; he must tremble upon the margin of a precipice,
like a child; nature having reserved these light marks of her authority, not to
be forced by our reason and the stoic virtue, to teach man his mortality and
our weakness; he turns pale with fear, red with shame, and groans with the
cholic, if not with desperate outcry, at least with hoarse and broken voice:
Let
him think nothing human foreign to him. — Terence
The poets, that feign all
things at pleasure, dare not acquit their greatest heroes of tears:
Thus
weeping does he speak, and bids his fleet depart. — Horace
'Tis sufficient for a man to
curb and moderate his inclinations, for totally to suppress them is not in him
to do.
Even
our great Plutarch, that excellent and perfect judge of human actions, when be
sees Brutus and Torquatus kill their children, begins to doubt whether virtue
could proceed so far, and to question whether these persons had not rather been
stimulated by some other passion. All actions exceeding the ordinary bounds are
liable to sinister interpretation, forasmuch as our liking no more holds with
what is above than with what is below it.
Let
us leave that other sect, that sets up an express profession of scornful
superiority; but when even in that sect, reputed the most quiet and gentle, we
hear these rhodomontades of Metrodorus: Fortune, I have anticipated you and
seized you; I have cut off all your access, so that you cannot come near me.
[Cicero] When Anaxarchus, by command of Nicocreon the tyrant of
Cyprus, was put into a stone mortar, and laid upon with mauls of iron, ceases
not to say, "Strike, batter, break, 'tis not Anaxarchus, 'tis but his
sheath that you pound and bray so;" when we hear our martyrs cry out to
the tyrant in the middle of the flame: "This side is roasted enough, fall
to and eat, it is enough done; fall to work with the other;" when we hear
the child in Josephus torn piece-meal with pincers, defying Antiochus, and
crying out with a constant and assured voice: "Tyrant, thou losest thy
labor, I am still at ease; where is the pain, where are the torments with which
thou didst so threaten me? Is this all thou canst do? My constancy torments
thee more than thy cruelty does me. Oh, pitiful coward, thou faintest, and I
grow stronger; make me complain, make me bend, make me yield if thou canst;
encourage thy guards, cheer up thy executioners; see, see they faint, and can
do no more; arm them, flesh them anew, spur them up;" truly, a man must
confess that there is some frenzy, some fury, how holy soever, that at that
time possesses those souls.
When
we come to these Stoical sallies: "I had rather be insane than voluptuous,"
a saying of Antisthenes. When Sextius tells us, "he had rather be fettered
with affliction than pleasure;" when Epicurus takes upon him to play with
his gout, and, refusing health and ease, defies all torments, and despising the
lesser pains, as disdaining to contend with them, he covets and calls out for
others sharper, more violent, and more worthy of him—
Among
his harmless flocks, it is his prayer to meet
A
foaming boar, or towny lion from the hills. — Virgil
—who but must conclude
that these are wild sallies pushed on by a courage that has broken loose from
its place? Our soul cannot from her own seat reach so high; 'tis necessary she
must leave it, raise herself up, and, taking the bridle in her teeth, transport
her man so far that he shall afterward himself be astonished at what he has
done; as, in war the heat of battle impels generous soldiers to perform things
of so infinite danger, as afterward, recollecting them they themselves are the
first to wonder at; as it also fares with the poets, who are often rapt with
admiration of their own writings, and know not where again to find the track
through which they performed so fine a career; which also is in them called
fury and rapture. And as Plato says, 'tis no purpose for a sober-minded man to
knock at the door of poesy: so Aristotle says that no excellent soul is exempt
from a mixture of madness; and he has reason to call all transports, how
commendable soever, that surpass our own judgment and understanding, madness;
forasmuch as wisdom is a regular government of the soul, which is carried on
with measure and proportion, and for which she is to herself responsible.
Plato
argues thus, that the faculty of the prophesying is so far above us, that we
must be out of ourselves when we meddle with it, and our prudence must either
be obstructed by sleep or sickness, or lifted from her place by some celestial
rapture.