Michel De Montaigne: On Solitude

Michel De Montaigne has a lot of say. The essays in his collection, On Solitude, has a very loose structure. Whether is it on the topic of books or anger or fear or sleep, Montaigne seems to meander his way through these various topics, giving the reader the sense that he is simply gabbing. It helps that Montaigne is well read and educated, so even in this wandering, the reader is learning, growing, and thinking.

Although they contain much philosophy, they themselves are not a philosophical treatise. Montaigne is not attempting to make an argument; he is simply figuring out what he thinks as he goes along. He makes this clear at the beginning of his essay, “On Books,”

Anyone who catches me out in ignorance does me no harm: I cannot vouch to other people for my reasonings: I can scarcely vouch for them to myself and am by no means satisfied with them. If anyone is looking for knowledge let him go where such fish are to be caught: there is nothing I lay claim to less. (21) 

And because Montaigne is well-read and educated, even in his meandering, he refers to Greeks and Romans such as Seneca, Perisius, and Erasmus. He quotes Seneca on sadness saying, “Light cares can talk; huge ones are struck dumb.” (63)  He quotes Persius on solitude saying, “Let us pluck life’s pleasures: it is up to us to live; you will soon be ashes, a ghost, something to tell tales about.” (17) Erasmus made on impression on him on the subject of conscience, saying, “Who counsels evil, suffers evil most.” (77)

Montaigne interacts with these voices too. On playwright, Terence, he says, “he so fills our souls to the brim with his graces that we forget those of his plot.” (27) On Brutus he says, putting on a bit of imagination, “I would rather have a true account of his chat with this private friends in his tent on the even of a battle than the oration which he delivered next morning to his army, and what he did in his work-room and bedroom than what he did in the Forum or Senate.” (33)

His references are mostly devoid of religion, with the exception of St. Augustine, which he never uses in reference to faith or conviction, but most notably on the subject of gas, “Saint Augustine cites the example of a man who could make his behind produce farts whenever he would.” (51) This in turn lends itself to a section so funny, one forgets this was written in the 16th century:

Vives in his glosses goes one better with a contemporary example of a man who could arrange to fart in tune with verses recited to him; but that does not prove the pure obedience of that member, since it is normally most indiscreet and disorderly. In addition I know one Behind so stormy and churlish that it has obliged its master to fart forth wind constantly and unremittingly for forty years and is thus bringing him to his death. (51)

Apparently, bathroom humor has always been funny.

Montaigne’s conclusions don’t meet modern sensibilities. They do not summarize or tie up the information. Or leave the reader with one last zinger to contemplate. When he is out of thoughts and examples on the subject, he simply ends.

At first, I was intimidated by Montaigne but found his essays to be both charming and freeing. I would love to give myself permission to meander like this and then, why not, if Montaigne, the father of the modern essays can do as such, why can’t I?

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