Shakespeare's Montaigne

by Michel de Montaigne

  Vibius Virius, despairing of his city’s safety, besieged by the Romans, and mistrusting their mercy, in their senate’s last consultation, after many remonstrances employed to that end, concluded that the best and fairest way was to escape fortune by their own hands. The very enemies should have them in more honour, and Hannibal might perceive what faithful friends he had forsaken. Inviting those that should allow of his advice to come and take a good supper which was prepared in his house where, after great cheer, they should drink together whatsoever should be presented unto him—“a drink that shall deliver our bodies from torments, free our minds from injuries, and release our eyes and ears from seeing and hearing so horrible mischiefs, which the conquered must endure at the hands of most cruel and offended conquerors. I have,” (quoth he), “taken order that men fit for that purpose shall be ready, when we shall be expired, to cast us into a great burning pile of wood.”

  Diverse [65] approved of his high resolution, but few did imitate the same. Seven and twenty senators followed him, who after they had attempted to stifle so irksome, and suppress so terror-moving, a thought, with quaffing and swilling of wine they ended their repast by this deadly mess. And entre-embracing one another, after they had in common deplored and bewailed their country’s misfortune, some went home to their own houses, othersome stayed there, to be entombed with Vibius in his own fire, whose death was so long and lingering. Forsomuch as the vapor of the wine having possessed their veins and slowed the effect and operation of the poison that some lived an hour after they had seen their enemies enter Capoa, which they carried the next day after, and incurred the miseries and saw the calamities which at so high a rate they had sought to eschew. [66]

  Taurea Jubellius, another citizen there, [67] the consul Fulvius returning from that shameful slaughter which he had committed of 225 senators, called him churlishly by his name and, having arrested [68] him, “Command” (quoth he) “unto him that I also be massacred after so many others that so thou mayest brag to have murdered a much more valiant man than ever thou wast.” Fulvius, as one enraged, disdaining him forsomuch as he had newly received letters from Rome contrary to the inhumanity of his execution, which inhibited him to proceed any further. Jubellius continuing his speech, said, “Sithence my country is taken, my friends butchered, and having with mine own hands slain my wife and children, as the only mean to free them from the desolation of this ruin, I may not die the death of my fellow-citizens, let us borrow the vengeance of this hateful life from virtue.” And drawing a blade he had hidden under his garments, therewith ran himself through and, falling on his face, died at the consul’s feet.

  Alexander besieged a city in India, the inhabitants whereof, perceiving themselves brought to a very narrow pinch, [69] resolved obstinately to deprive him of the pleasure he might get of his victory, and together with their city, in despite of his humanity, set both the town and themselves on a light fire and so were all consumed. A new kind of warring, where the enemies did all they could and sought to save them, they to lose themselves; and to be assured of their death, did all a man can possibly effect to warrant [70] his life.

  Astapa, a city in Spain, being very weak of walls and other defences, to withstand the Romans that besieged the same, the inhabitants drew all their riches and wealth into the marketplace, whereof having made a heap and on the top of it placed their wives and children, and encompassed and covered the same with dry brush wood that it might burn the easier. And, having appointed fifty lusty young men of theirs for the performance of their resolution, made a sally where, following their determined vow, seeing they could not vanquish, suffered themselves to be slain, every mother’s child. The fifty, after they had massacred every living soul remaining in the city and set fire to the heap, joyfully leaped thereinto, ending their generous liberty in a state rather insensible than dolorous and reproachful; showing their enemies that, if fortune had been so pleased, they should as well have had the courage to bereave them of the victory, as they had to yield it them both vain and hideous. Yea, and mortal to those who, allured by the glittering of the gold that molten ran from out the flame, thick and three-fold approaching greedily unto it, were therein smothered and burned, the foremost being unable to give back, [71] by reason of the throng that followed them.

  The Abideans, pressed by Philip, resolved upon the very same but, being prevented, the King whose heart yearned and abhorred to see the fond-rash precipitation of such an execution (having first seized upon and saved the treasure and movables, which they had diversely condemned to the flames and utter spoil), retiring all the soldiers, granted them the full space of 3 days to make themselves away, that so they might do it with more order and leisure; which three days they replenished with blood and murder beyond all hostile cruelty. And which is strange, there was no one person saved that had power upon himself.

  There are infinite examples of such-like popular conclusions, which seem more violent by how much more the effect of them is more universal. They are less than several; what discourse would not do in every one, it doth in all, the vehemence of society ravishing particular judgments. [72]

  Such as were condemned to die in the time of Tiberius and delayed their execution any while lost their goods and could not be buried, but such as prevented the same in killing themselves were solemnly enterred [73] and might, at their pleasure, bequeath such goods as they had to whom they list.

  But a man doth also sometimes desire death, in hope of a greater good. “I desire” (sayeth Saint Paul), “to be out of this world, that I may be with Jesus Christ.” And “who shall release me out of these bonds?” Cleombrotus Ambraciota, having read Plato’s Phædon, was so possessed with a desire and longing for an after-life that, without other occasion or more ado, he went and headlong cast himself into the sea. Whereby it appeareth how improperly we call this voluntary dissolution “despair,” unto which the violence of hope doth often transport us, and as often a peaceful and settled inclination of judgment.

  Jaques du Castell, Bishop of Soissons, in the voyage which Saint Louis undertook beyond the seas, seeing the king and all his army ready to return into France and leave the affairs of religion imperfect, resolved with himself rather to go to heaven. And having bidden his friends farewell, in the open view of all men, rushed alone into the enemy’s troops, of whom he was forthwith hewn in pieces.

  In a certain kingdom of these late-discovered Indies, [74] upon a day of a solemn procession, in which the idols they adore are publicly carried up and down upon a chariot of exceeding greatness; besides that, there are many seen to cut and slice great mammocks [75] of their quick flesh, to offer the said idols. There are numbers of others seen who, prostrating themselves alongst upon the ground, endure very patiently to be moldered [76] and crushed to death under the chariot’s wheels, thinking thereby to purchase after their death a veneration of holiness, of which they are not defrauded. The death of this Bishop, [77] armed as we have said, argueth more generosity and less sense, the heat of the combat amusing one part of it. [78]

  Some commonwealths there are that have gone about to sway the justice and direct the opportunity of voluntary deaths. In our city of Marseille they were wont in former ages ever to keep some poison in store, prepared and compounded with hemlock at the city’s charge, for such as would upon any occasion shorten their days, having first approved the reasons of their enterprise unto the six hundred elders of the town, which was their senate. For otherwise it was unlawful for any body, except by the magistrate’s permission and for very lawfully-urgent occasions, to lay violent hands upon himself. The very same law was likewise used in other places.

  Sextus Pompeius going into Asia passed through the island of Cea, belonging to Negroponto; it fortuned whilst he abode there (as one reporteth that was in his company) that a woman of great authority, having first yielded an account unto her citizens and showed good reasons why she was resolved to end her life, earnestly entreated Pompey to be an assistant at her death that so it might be estee
med more honourable, which he assented unto. And having long time in vain sought, by virtue of his eloquence (wherein he was exceedingly ready) and force of persuasion, to alter her intent and remove her from her purpose, in the end yielded to her request. She had lived four score and ten years in a most happy estate of mind and body, but then lying on her bed, better adorned than before she was accustomed to have it and leaning on her elbow, thus she bespake: “The gods, O Sextus Pompeius, and rather those I forgo than those I go unto, reward and appay [79] thee, for that thou hast vouchsafed to be both a counselor of my life and a witness of my death. As for my part, having hitherto ever tasted the favourable visage of fortune, for fear the desire of living overlong should make me taste of her frowns, with an happy and successful end, I will now depart and licence the remainder of my soul, leaving behind me two daughters of mine, with a legion of grandchildren and nephews.” That done, having preached unto and exhorted all her people and kinfolks to an unity and peace and divided her goods amongst them and recommended her household gods unto her eldest daughters, with an assuredly-staid hand she took the cup wherein the poison was, and having made her vows unto Mercury and prayers to conduct her unto some happy place in the other world, roundly swallowed that mortal potion. Which done, she entertained the company with the progress of her behaviour, and as the parts of her body were one after another possessed with the cold operation of that venom, until such time as she said she felt it work at the heart and in her entrails, she called her daughter to do her the last office and close her eyes.

  Pliny reporteth of a certain Hiperborean [80] nation wherein, by reason of the mild temperature of the air, the inhabitants thereof commonly never die but when they please to make themselves away. And that being weary and tired with living, they are accustomed at the end of a long-long age, having first made merry and good cheer with their friends, from the top of an high-steepy rock appointed for that purpose, to cast themselves headlong into the sea.

  Grieving-smart [81] and a worse death seem to me the most excusable incitations. [82]

  Of the Affection of Fathers to Their Children

  2.8

  TO THE LADY OF ESTISSAC [1]

  MADAME, if strangeness do not save or novelty shield me, which are wont to give things reputation, I shall never with honesty quit myself of this enterprise [2]; yet is it so fantastical and bears a show so different from common custom that that may haply purchase it free passage. It is a melancholy humour, and consequently a hateful enemy to my natural complexion, bred by the anxiety and produced by the anguish of carking [3] care whereinto some years since I cast myself, that first put this humorous conceit of writing into my head. And finding myself afterward wholly unprovided of subject and void of other matter, I have presented myself unto myself for a subject to write and argument to descant [4] upon. It is the only book in the world of this kind and of a wild extravagant design. Moreover, there is nothing in it worthy the marking but this fantasticalness. For to so vain a ground and base a subject, the world’s best workman could never have given a fashion deserving to be accounted of.

  Now (worthy Lady), sithence I must portray myself to the life, I should have forgotten a part of importance, if therewithal I had not represented the honour I have ever yielded to your deserts which I have especially been willing to declare in the forefront of this chapter. Forasmuch as amongst your other good parts and commendable qualities that of loving amity which you have shown to your children holdeth one of the first ranks. Whosoever shall understand and know the age wherein your late husband the Lord of Estissac left you a widow; the great and honorable matches have been offered you (as worthy and as many as to any other Lady in France of your condition); the constant resolution and resolute constancy wherewith so many years you have sustained and even in spite or athwart so manifold thorny difficulties, the charge and conduct of their affairs, which have tossed, turmoiled, and removed you in all corners of France and still hold you besieged; the happy and successful forwardness [5] you, which only through your wisdom or good fortune have given them—he will easily say with me that in our age we have no pattern of motherly affection more exemplary than yours.

  I praise God (Madame) it hath been so well employed. For the good hopes which the young Lord of Estissac, your son, giveth of himself fore-show he shall come to an undoubted assurance that, when he shall come to years of discretion, you shall reap the obedience of a noble, and find the acknowledgement of a good, child. But because, by reason of his childhood, he could not take notice of the exceeding kindness and manifold offices he hath received from you, my meaning is that if ever these my compositions shall haply one day come into his hands (when peradventure I shall neither have mouth nor speech to declare it unto him), he receive this testimony in all verity from me; which shall also more lively be testified unto him by the good effects (whereof, if so it please God, he shall have a sensible feeling) that there is no gentleman in France more endebted to his mother than he; and that hereafter he cannot yield a more certain proof of his goodness and testimony of his virtue than in acknowledging and confessing you for such.

  If there be any truly natural law, that is to say, any instinct universally and perpetually imprinted both in beasts and us (which is not without controversy), I may, according to mine opinion, say that next to the care which each living creature hath to his preservation and to fly what doth hurt him, the affection which the engenderer beareth his offspring holds the second place in this rank. And forasmuch as Nature seemeth to have recommended the same unto us, aiming to extend, increase, and advance the successive parts or parcels of this her frame, it is no wonder if back again it [6] is not so great from children unto fathers.

  This other Aristotelian consideration remembered: that he who doth benefit another loveth him better than he is beloved of him again; and he to whom a debt is owing loveth better than he that oweth. And every workman loveth his work better than he should be beloved of it again, if it had sense or feeling. Forasmuch as we love to be, and being consisteth in moving and action. Therefore is every man, in some sort or other, in his own workmanship. Whosoever doth a good deed exerciseth a fair and honest action; whosoever receiveth exerciseth only a profitable [7] action. And profit is nothing so much to be esteemed or loved as honesty. Honesty is firm and permanent, affording him that did it a constant gratification. Profit is very slippery and easily lost, nor is the memory of it so sweet or so fresh. Such things are dearest unto us that have cost us most; and to give is of more cost than to take.

  Since it hath pleased God to endow us with some capacity of discourse, that as beasts we should not servilely be subjected to common laws [8] but rather with judgement and voluntary liberty apply ourselves unto them, we ought somewhat to yield unto the simple authority of Nature, but not suffer her tyranny to carry us away: only reason ought to have the conduct of our inclinations.

  As for me, my taste is strangely distasted [9] to its propensions, [10] which in us are produced without the ordinance and direction of our judgement. As upon this subject I speak of, I cannot receive this passion wherewith some embrace children scarcely born, having neither motion in the soul nor form well to be distinguished in the body whereby they might make themselves lovely or amiable. And I could never well endure to have them brought up or nursed near about me.

  A true and well-ordered affection ought to be born and augmented with the knowledge they owe us of themselves; and then, if they deserve it (natural inclination marching hand in hand with reason), to cherish and make much of them with a perfect fatherly love and loving friendship; and conformably to judge of them if they be otherwise, always yielding ourselves unto reason, notwithstanding natural power. For the most part, it goeth clean contrary, and commonly we feel ourselves more moved with the sports, idlenesses, wantonness, and infant-trifles of our children than afterward we do with all their actions when they be men, as if we had loved them for our pastimes, as we do apes, monkeys, or perokitoes, [11] and not as men. And some that liberally furn
ish them with sporting babbles [12] while they be children will miserably pinch it in the least expense for necessaries when they grow men. Nay, it seemeth that the jealousy we have to see them appear into and enjoy the world, when we are ready to leave them, makes us more sparing and close-handed toward them. It vexeth and grieveth us when we see them following us at our heels, supposing they solicit us to be gone hence. And if we were to fear that, since the order of things beareth that they cannot indeed neither be nor live but by our being and life, we should not meddle to be fathers.

  As for me, I deem it a kind of cruelty and injustice not to receive them into the share and society of our goods and to admit them as partners in the understanding of our domestical affairs (if they be once capable of it) and not to cut off and shut up our commodities to provide for theirs, since we have engendered them to that purpose. It is mere injustice to see an old, crazed, sinew-shrunken, and nigh-dead father sitting alone in a chimney-corner to enjoy so many goods as would suffice for the preferment and entertainment of many children, and in the meanwhile, for want of means, to suffer them to lose their best days and years without thrusting them into public service and knowledge of men; whereby they are often cast into despair, to seek by some way how unlawful soever to provide for their necessaries. [13] And in my days, I have seen diverse young men of good houses so given to stealing and filching that no correction could divert them from it. I know one, very well allied, to whom, at the instance of a brother of his (a most honest, gallant, and virtuous gentleman) I spoke to that purpose, who boldly answered and confessed unto me that only by the rigor and covetism [14] of his father he had been forced and driven to fall into such lewdness and wickedness. And even at that time he came from stealing certain jewels from a lady in whose bed-chamber he fortuned to come with certain gentlemen when she was rising and had almost been taken. He made me remember a tale I had heard of another gentleman, from his youth so fashioned and inclined to this goodly trade of pilfering that, coming afterward to be heir and lord of his own goods [and] resolved to give over that manner of life, could notwithstanding (if he chanced to come near a shop where he saw anything he stood in need of) not choose but steal the same, though afterward he would ever send money and pay for it. And I have seen diverse so inured to that vice that amongst their companions they would ordinarily steal such things as they would restore again.