Delphi Complete Works of Michel de Montaigne (Illustrated) E-Book

Michel De Montaigne

• Herausgeber: Delphi Classics
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Serie: Delphi Series Seven
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016

Seitenzahl: 3450

Beschreibung

One of the leading philosophers of the French Renaissance, Michel de Montaigne is famous for his ‘Essais’ (Essays), which established a new literary form, merging casual anecdotes and autobiography with serious intellectual insight. This comprehensive eBook presents Montaigne’s complete works, with numerous illustrations, rare texts appearing in digital print for the first time, informative introductions and the usual Delphi bonus material. (Version 1)

* Beautifully illustrated with images relating to Montaigne’s life and works
* Concise introductions to the texts
* All the essays, with an individual contents table
* Features THE JOURNAL OF MONTAIGNE’S TRAVELS IN ITALY, SWITZERLAND AND GERMANY — first time in digital publishing
* Excellent formatting of the texts
* Easily locate the essays you want to read
* Includes Montaigne’s letters
* Special criticism section, with essays evaluating Montaigne’s contribution to literature
* Features a bonus biography - discover Montaigne’s literary life
* Scholarly ordering of texts into chronological order and literary genres

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CONTENTS:

The Books
THE JOURNAL OF MONTAIGNE’S TRAVELS IN ITALY BY WAY OF SWITZERLAND AND GERMANY IN 1580 AND 1581
THE ESSAYS
THE LETTERS OF MONTAIGNE

The Criticism
MONTAIGNE; OR, THE SKEPTIC by Ralph Waldo Emerson
MONTAIGNE AND SHAKSPERE by J. M. Robertson
SHAKSPERE AND MONTAIGNE by Jacob Feis
MONTAIGNE AND NIETZSCHE by Charles Sarolea
SIEUR DE MONTAIGNE by Andrew Lang
MONTAIGNE by Virginia Woolf

The Biography
THE LIFE OF MONTAIGNE by Charles Cotton

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Leseprobe

The Complete Works of

MICHEL DE MONTAIGNE

(1533–1592)

Contents

The Books

THE JOURNAL OF MONTAIGNE’S TRAVELS IN ITALY BY WAY OF SWITZERLAND AND GERMANY IN 1580 AND 1581

THE ESSAYS

THE LETTERS OF MONTAIGNE

The Criticism

MONTAIGNE; OR, THE SKEPTIC by Ralph Waldo Emerson

MONTAIGNE AND SHAKSPERE by J. M. Robertson

SHAKSPERE AND MONTAIGNE by Jacob Feis

MONTAIGNE AND NIETZSCHE by Charles Sarolea

SIEUR DE MONTAIGNE by Andrew Lang

MONTAIGNE by Virginia Woolf

The Biography

THE LIFE OF MONTAIGNE by Charles Cotton

The Delphi Classics Catalogue

© Delphi Classics 2016

Version 1

The Complete Works of

MICHEL DE MONTAIGNE

By Delphi Classics, 2016

COPYRIGHT

Complete Works of Michel de Montaigne

First published in the United Kingdom in 2016 by Delphi Classics.

© Delphi Classics, 2016.

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form other than that in which it is published.

ISBN: 978 1 78656 060 5

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Hastings, East Sussex

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The Books

Château de Montaigne, Aquitaine, a house built on the land once owned by Montaigne’s family. His original birthplace no longer exists, though the tower in which he wrote still stands.

The birthplace was almost completely destroyed by fire in 1885, but the tower in which Montaigne worked in his the library escaped the fire and is unchanged since the sixteenth century.

The “library” where Montaigne wrote many of his Essais.

THE JOURNAL OF MONTAIGNE’S TRAVELS IN ITALY BY WAY OF SWITZERLAND AND GERMANY IN 1580 AND 1581

Translated and Edited with an Introduction and Notes by W. G. Waters

Montaigne’s education began in early childhood and followed a rigorous plan that his father had developed by the advice of his humanist friends. Soon after his birth, Montaigne was brought to a small cottage, where he lived the first three years of life in the sole company of a peasant family, in order to, according to the elder Montaigne, “draw the boy close to the people, and to the life conditions of the people, who need our help”. After these early spartan years, Montaigne was brought back to the family château. His father intended that Latin should become his son’s first language and his education was assigned to a German tutor (a doctor named Horstanus that could not speak French). His father hired only servants that could speak Latin and they were also given strict orders always to speak to the child in Latin. The same rule applied to his mother, father and servants, who were obliged to use only Latin words he himself employed, allowing him to acquire a thorough knowledge of the language his tutor taught him. Montaigne’s Latin education was accompanied by constant intellectual and spiritual stimulation. He was familiarised with Greek by a pedagogical method that employed games, conversation and exercises of solitary meditation, rather than the more traditional books.

In 1539 Montaigne was sent to study at a prestigious boarding school in Bordeaux, the Collège de Guyenne, then under the direction of the greatest Latin scholar of the era, George Buchanan, where he mastered the whole curriculum by his thirteenth year. He then began his study of law at the University of Toulouse in 1546 and entered a career in the local legal system. He was a counsellor of the Court des Aides of Périgueux. From 1561 to 1563 he was courtier at the court of Charles IX and he was present with the king at the siege of Rouen (1562). He was awarded the highest honour of the French nobility, the collar of the Order of St. Michael — an achievement he had sought from his youth.

In 1578, Montaigne, whose health had always been excellent, began suffering from painful kidney stones, a sickness he had inherited from his father’s family. Throughout this illness, he would have nothing to do with doctors or medicine. From 1580 to 1581, he decided to travel to France, Germany, Austria, Switzerland and Italy, partly in search of a cure, establishing himself at Bagni di Lucca where he took the waters. His journey was also a pilgrimage to the Holy House of Loreto, to which he presented a silver relief depicting himself, his wife and daughter kneeling before the Madonna. During his travels, he kept a fascinating journal recording regional differences and customs and a variety of personal episodes, including the dimensions of the stones he succeeded in ejecting from his bladder. The Journal of Montaigne’s Travels in Italy by Way of Switzerland and Germanyin1580 and 1581was published much later in 1774, after its discovery in a trunk found in the author’s tower.

Portrait of Michel de Montaigne by Dumonstier, c. 1578

CONTENTS

VOLUME I.

PREFACE

INTRODUCTION

I

II

III

IV

VOLUME II.

V

VI

VII

VIII

VOLUME III.

IX

X

XI

XII

XIII

XIV

XV

The original frontispiece

VOLUME I.

PREFACE

UP to February 16, 1581, the “Journal” of Montaigne’s travels was written down from dictation by a confidential servant, who seems to have combined the duties of secretary and valet. On the date aforesaid Montaigne either dismissed him or gave him leave of absence, and set to work to keep the diary himself. The portion of the “Journal” written by the secretary presents certain difficulties in translation, seeing that he wrote sometimes in the first and sometimes in the third person, and occasionally had to describe events which happened in his absence, but as far as possible uniform diction has been secured. In the earlier part Montaigne added divers notes to the margin of the MS. in his own handwriting, thus showing that he revised that portion which he did not write. From May 15, to November 1, 1581, Montaigne used the Italian tongue, reverting to French as soon as he crossed Mont Cenis.

A translation of the “Journal” was made by W. Hazlitt in 1842 and annexed to his edition of Cotton’s “Essays.” In a recent reprint of the “Essays” and of all the extant “Letters,” Mr. W. C. Hazlitt, in an introduction, remarks, as a reason for not including the “Journal,” that it is all in the third person, and was dictated by Montaigne to his secretary, being unaware, apparently, that more than half of it was written in the first person by Montaigne himself.

The portions of the “Journal” which deal with Montaigne’s sojourn at the baths of Lucca are full of details of the symptoms of the malady which troubled him, and of the results of the curative treatment. In these it has been thought permissible to abbreviate some passages and to omit others entirely, seeing that they are at the same time valueless and unpleasant. But not a word which refers to any matter of general interest has been repressed; uninteresting medical details alone have been left out.

W. G. WATERS.

August 1903.

INTRODUCTION

IN the world of literature there are many instances which exhibit the personality of a particular writer identified so completely with certain of his works that he is, so to speak, divorced from all association with any others, however great their merit, which he may have left behind him. The popular verdict, so often swayed by incomprehensible impulse, is given in favour of one or two books, and all the rest fall into oblivion or neglect. How trifling is the vogue of Walton’s “Lives” compared with that of the “Angler.” To the multitude Swift is known almost entirely as the author of Gulliver, and the name of Gray suggests the “Elegy” as inevitably as that of Cowper suggests “John Gilpin.” In like manner we find the fame of Montaigne resting on the “Essays” alone; but this case is in a measure exceptional. Montaigne died in 1592, and until 1774 the “Essays” comprised the whole of his literary legacy. In the year last mentioned, a certain M. Prunis, who was collecting materials for a history of Perigord, discovered in a chest at the Château de Montaigne the manuscript account of the writer’s travels in Switzerland, the Empire, and Italy in the years 1580 and 1581.

Notwithstanding the fame of the writer, and the inherent interest of the long-hidden work, the “Journal” failed to win the public favour, and virtually Montaigne still kept the status of a single book author. It has never roused much enthusiasm in France, in spite of a generous and appreciative article by Sainte-Beuve in the Nouveaux Lundis. “Montaigne,” he writes, “is the intimate friend of every one of us, and of our intimate friends it is impossible to know too much.” And he then goes on to demonstrate the extraordinary value and interest of the “Journal” when read in connection with the “Essays.” It is casting no slur on the “Journal” to say that it is inferior to the writer’s masterpiece in literary grace; and, so much being granted, it may be asserted that nowhere in Montaigne’s writings is his personality, with its attractive wisdom and no less attractive weaknesses, more clearly and completely exhibited than in the work under consideration.

This excellence of self-portraiture may be explained by the fact that the Montaigne of the “Essays” greets us as the philosopher in his study, face to face with the innumerable problems to be canvassed in determining the rules which should guide man’s conduct towards his fellows. Here with laborious care he searches the world of books for illustrations apt for the establishment of his position and for its defence. Now and then, in spite of the quaint charm of the writing, it seems as if we cannot see the wood for the trees, and we regret that we cannot enjoy a closer personal acquaintance with the author, a knowledge at first hand, and not blurred by the cloud of approving witnesses which it has pleased him to summon up from the caverns of the libraries. But with the Montaigne of the “Journal” it is altogether different. Here we find the man giving his experience of a phase of life which, for good or evil, has become almost normal in these latter days. Most of us have crossed the Alps and descended upon Italy; and, changed as the conditions of travel are, it raises a sympathetic interest to read of the humours of the road in Montaigne’s time, and to compare his experience with our own. We are introduced to him face to face with troubles and pleasures, the intensity of which it is not difficult to gauge: the knavery of postmasters: the stupidity of guides: the discomfort of this inn, and the excellence of that. We listen to his simple narrative of his experience of men and cities, and learn to know him better here than when encumbered by the swarming, hypotheses and guarding clauses which fill the pages of his opus magnum. When he begins to speculate, his reflections are given in the plainest words, and rarely fail to reveal one or other of those lovable personal traits with which acquaintance, as well as tradition, will have invested him. His large-minded toleration, his fastidious care lest any judgment given should be based on insufficient knowledge, and his reluctance to commit himself to any positive statement — characteristics which dominate the drift of thought in the “Essays” — reappear in the “Journal,” and help to give to his utterances on the world as he found it an authority which few contemporary travellers could claim.

In any comparison he felt bound to draw between things in France and things over the frontier, toleration is his watchword; and he knew no more of the spirit of Chauvinism than he did of the word. But he seems to have found some tendencies in that direction in the carriage of certain young Frenchmen whom he met at Padua, and he goes on to lament that the number of these should be large enough to constitute a society in itself, and that on this account his young countrymen should be debarred from making acquaintance with the people of the place. Again, he shows a little resentment at finding himself surrounded by such a crowd of Frenchmen as he found in Rome. He is full of praise of the iron work of Switzerland, and of the cookery as well. The bed-chambers in Germany did not always please him, but he could not say too much in favour of the porcelain stoves and the coverlets stuffed with feathers; and when he found the charges at the baths of Baden a little arbitrary, he adds that he would have fared no better in France. He describes the private houses round Constance as being far superior to the parallel class of house in France; and, in taking exception in a general way to defects in the service at the inns, he remarks that these things seemed amiss to him chiefly because they were unfamiliar: indeed, he lavished so much praise on German ways of living that the patriotism of his amanuensis, was, in one instance stirred to remonstrance. Montaigne had evidently a strong liking for Germany (though indeed he is somewhat uncomplimentary as to the personal charms of the ladies of Augsburg) and he left it with reluctance; for, when he arrived at Botzen and marked the prevalence of Italian customs there, he wrote in a strain of regret to Francis Hottoman, the jurisconsult whom he had met at Basel, expressing his satisfaction at the treatment he had met with in that city and his regrets at bidding farewell to the Empire, even though his goal were Italy. Vanity is the proverbial weakness of the Frenchman, but the only trace of it in Montaigne’s record is to be found in his action at Augsburg when some of the town officers took him for a baron, and he bade his companions not correct the error. His remarks thereanent show that he was more swayed by considerations of practical utility than by the desire of personal exaltation; as he goes on to say that, being credited with a baron’s rank, he would doubtless receive more attention from the hands of the authorities.

To show how little of the braggart was in him it may be noted that when he visited the church of S. Lorenzo at Florence he did not refrain from naming, amongst the other sights he saw there, the French banners captured from Marshal Strozzi’s forces by the Florentines, and when on his way home he passed by Fornovo, the scene of the great French victory in 1495, he does not allude to the battle at all. On the other hand, he expressly records that he turned aside from the road between Pavia and Milan to view the field of the battle so disastrous to the arms of France.

The bent of Montaigne’s mind led him to devote his chief attention to the rules and institutions which regulated public life in the lands he visited, rather than to what modern travellers call “sights,” and in Fynes Moryson’s travels about ten, and in Coryat’s about thirty years later, the same tendencies appear. When at any time he does describe any human achievement, it is usually some mechanical device, such as the watch-tower and the water-works at Augsburg. Italy was rich, or probably much richer, in paintings than she is now, but only on three or four occasions does he find any worth mentioning. Nevertheless he writes pages in praise of the ridiculous squirts and tubes which are devised to drench the unwary visitors to Italian gardens now, just as they did at the time when he was on his travels. Artificial water-works of all sorts seem to have had a peculiar fascination for him: indeed on his way back to France he paid a second visit to Pratolino, near Florence, in order to compare the merits of the fountains there with those which he had seen at Tivoli. He ends the description of his expedition with the following thoroughly characteristic sentences: “Et essendo pregato dal casiero del palazzo di dire la mia sentenzia di quelle bellezze e di Tivoli, ne discorsi non comparando questi luoghi in generale, ma parte per parte, con le diverse considerazioni dell’un e dell’altro, essendo vicendevolmente vittore ora questo, or quello.”

Perhaps it would be unfair to attribute to indifference Montaigne’s comparative silence over Italian painting. In his day it was not the fashion to write so copiously as at present concerning this particular phase of art, nor was it deemed necessary that every third-rate painter should possess his exponent and prophet. Whatever the reason, Montaigne passed it by in silence, save in a few instances, and the cause of his appreciation in these cases was evidently that the pictures possessed historic interest. At Caprarola he found portraits of Henry II. of France, Catherine dei Medici and their two sons. He mentions the pictures at Loreto, referring probably to the ex voto daubs and not to the works of Signorelli and Melozzo da Forli. In his visit to the Vatican he notices a certain gallery which was being decorated with views of Italy, ancient and modern, by the order of Gregory XIII., the reigning Pope, and also those by Vasari in the Sala Regia depicting recent events of history which could hardly fail to interest him — the battle of Lepanto, the massacre of S. Bartholomew, and the death of Coligny. At Padua he praises the gardens of the Arena, but leaves unnoticed the chapel and its frescoes: probably he had never heard Giotto’s name. He has much to say of the Piazza at Siena, of the fountain and of the bronze wolf, but only a few words as to the exterior of the Cathedral, and not one about the many works of art within. At the Certosa at Pavia he mentions the carven façade and the tomb of Gian Galeazzo Visconti, but ignores the paintings. Sculpture seems to have had much greater fascination for him: he gives the names of many of the great works in the Vatican and Capitol, and praises Michael Angelo’s “Moses” and his statues in the Medici Chapel at Florence. He makes special mention of “la belle fame qui est aus pieds du Pape Pol tiers en la nouvelle église de S. Pierre,” the statue which the prudery of a later Pontiff caused to be encased in robes of bronze.

Montaigne would occasionally throw a hard word at the Jesuits, and probably he disliked them as a body, but, however this might be, he seldom failed to seek out any member of the order who might be resident in the cities he visited; no doubt because he knew he would meet a well-educated man, and one able to converse with him on the topics he had most at heart. At Rome he gives high praise to the diligence and ability of the Jesuits, probably for the reason that he found the practical drift of their policy congenial to his own humour. He certainly showed no sign of enthusiasm in contemplating the scenes of the more emotional phenomena of Catholicism, for he made no reference to S. Catherine when describing Siena, and Assisi he did not deem worth a visit. He probably went to Loreto on account of the historic fame of the Santa. Casa, and he was certainly much more impressed by the material aspect of the prevalent legend, the crowds of pilgrims, the shops for the sale of candles and ex votos, the riches of the treasury, and the profit of the pilgrimage to the townsfolk, than by the spiritual aspect of the same.

Montaigne, sceptic as he was in dealing with religious questions, never allowed this disposition to induce him to take up an unqualified attitude of hostility. Over the claims of the miraculous he kept his judgment in suspense, and did not condemn as a necessary imposture what he could not accept as a proven truth. Joseph Glanvil, in Sadducismus Triumphatus, holds a similar position in condemning what he calls “the credulity of unbelief,” that is, when sceptics, by way of discrediting phenomena which they cannot accept, suggest, as an alternative explanation, something still harder to believe. At Loreto, in commenting on the alleged miraculous cure of a certain M. Marteau, Montaigne shows a marked inclination to accept the popular version of the story, and omits to appraise the divers subjective influences which invariably play an important part in remedial phenomena of this description. Again, he is swayed by the same humour in writing concerning the peculiar virtue of the earth in the Campo Santo at Pisa, which was fabled to preserve human remains from corruption for any length of time. —

Nothing that Montaigne saw in his travels seems to have given him more pleasure than the sight of the exquisite cultivation of the plains and hillsides in Italy and the consequent well-being of the contadini. On this subject he writes with enthusiasm and even astonishment while descending the southern slopes of the Alps, and traversing the Lombard plain and the lovely valley of Clitumnus. Nowhere in the “Journal” does he speak with a stronger note of gratification than in describing these evidences of material prosperity: not even when he tells of an interview with some learned man, or sets down some new facts concerning prevalent laws and institutions, or ventures on some shrewd and luminous inference founded on his experiences of the men and cities he had got to know in the course of his travels.

The part of the “Journal” which will be found most interesting to contemporary readers is unquestionably that which describes his sojourn in Rome. His perception was dazzled and awe-stricken at the spectacle of the vast and ruinous habitation which then sheltered the greatest unifying influence still existing in the world; but, impressed as he was by the majesty of the Papal power, he made it quite clear that this was not for him the true Rome. His conception of the genius of the place was in the main a subjective one. With an intelligence disciplined and enriched by historic study, he seemed to behold at every turn the phantom of that astounding domination, now empty, vain, and shattered; and, in recording his reflections on this pregnant theme, his style rises as near to rhapsody as his well-balanced temperament would allow.

With respect to Rome as he found it, Montaigne was profoundly impressed by the manifestation of the concentrated power of the Catholic Church, the splendour of the religious functions, and the activity and devotion of the various confraternities. He estimates this show of religious enthusiasm, and the ardour of the people over their spiritual exercises, as the chief glory of the place as it then existed. At the same time he was quite unconvinced by the spectacle of an attempt by some priests to exorcise evil spirits, and evidently viewed the whole affair as a nauseous imposture, like Fynes Moryson on a subsequent visit. His tolerant disposition is shown by the keen interest he took over the Lutheran baptismal and marriage rites which he witnessed at Augsburg, and few experiences of his travels seem to have interested him more than the ceremony of circumcision, which he witnessed in the house of a Jew in Rome, and described in minute detail and at great length.

The main object of Montaigne’s journey was to visit certain foreign baths, with the hope of getting relief from the pains which he suffered through gall-stone and gravel. Seeing that he must almost always have been in pain, or at least discomfort, and that the inconveniences of travel were in themselves no light burden in these days, the constant cheerfulness of his temper, and his freshness of sentiment and speech, whenever he chanced to be brought face to face with some attractive experience, prove what a sweet and happy nature his must have been. He records how on the road from Terni to Spoleto he was suffering from colic, which had vexed him for the last four-and-twenty hours, but this plague did not prevent him from expressing his delight over the exquisite scenery on either hand. Travel by itself was to him the keenest pleasure, as he shows in the quaint remarks he lets fall when journeying from Trent to Rovere. His companions were seemingly aggrieved that he occasionally led them a wild-goose chase, and brought them back to the point from which they started; but he gaily assured them that he never missed his way, because, as he never made plans, the place in which he might find himself at sunset must needs be the legitimate end of the day’s travel. Perhaps of all the humours he displayed en route, the most marked was his insatiable curiosity and his avidity of fresh experience. He met the Pope (Gregory XIII.), the Grand Duke of Tuscany, the Duke of Ferrara, and cardinals, ambassadors, chancellors, and officials out of number, and hardly one of these got rid of him without having to listen and reply to divers well-judged questions. He even went so far as to pay visits to the lodgings of the fashionable cortigiane in Rome, as Coryat did at Venice. In many places he writes in a strain which shows that, in spite of bodily ills and his clear perception of the troubles of the world, he felt a keen joy in life. On setting out for Italy he declared he seemed to be in like case to one who reads some delightful story or good book and dreads to turn the last page. The pleasure of travel was to him so intense, that he hated the sight of the place where he ought by rights to stop and rest. The grant of Roman citizenship evidently pleased him greatly, as did his election as Mayor of Bordeaux, though he coquetted a little with the burgesses at first. But though he and the world were good friends, he kept constantly before his mind the certainty and the nearness of the hour when they must part. There is nothing of fear, nothing even of querulousness, in his reflections when he was evidently very ill at Lucca. “It would be too great cowardice and ischifiltâ on my part if, knowing that I am every day in danger of death from these ailments, and drawing nearer thereto every hour in the course of nature, I did not do my best to bring myself into a fitting mood to meet my end whenever it may come. And in this respect it is wise to take joyfully all the good fortune God may send. Moreover there is no remedy, nor rule, nor knowledge whereby to keep clear of these evils which, from every side and at every minute, gather round man’s footsteps, save in the resolve to endure them with dignity, or boldly and promptly make an end of them.” We seem here to be very far from the traditional frivolity of the Frenchman; much nearer to the calm wisdom of Epictetus or Marcus Aurelius.

Montaigne travelled in company with M. Mattecoulon, his younger brother; M. d’Estissac, probably the son of the lady to whom he dedicated the “Essay,” Book ii. No. 8; M. de Caselis, who left the party to stay on at Padua; and M. d’Hautoy, who seems to have remained with him all through the journey. Mattecoulon remained in Rome after Montaigne’s final departure, and shortly after he was imprisoned on account of a duel (“Essays,” ii. 27), and liberated by the good offices of the King of France. M. d’Estissac seems to have remained behind with him.

The first two books of the “Essays” were published in 1580, before the author set forth on his travels, and the work, as we know it, was first given to the world in 1588, with the third book added. In this book he refers to several incidents of his sojourn in Rome — notably to the grant of Roman citizenship which was then made to him. In addition, he carefully revised the first and second books by the light of his foreign experiences, and made some six hundred additions, many of which refer to incidents connected with his journey. He mentions the strange story of Mary Germain, who underwent transformation from the female to the male sex, a story also noticed by Ambrose Paré, the great French surgeon; the execution at Rome of Catena, a notorious criminal; and his visit to Tasso at Ferrara. Curiously enough, he makes no mention of this visit in the “Journal.”

It is hard to believe that a man so communicative as Montaigne would have kept secret from his friends the existence of the written record he made of his journey; and, taking it for granted that the existence of the MS. was suspected, it is just as hard to understand how it happened that a search was not made for it after his death, and that it should have lain undiscovered till M. Prunis found it in 1774. The MS. was complete, except a leaf or so at the beginning, and nearly half of it seems to have been written from dictation by a valet or secretary, Montaigne himself having taken up the task on February 16th, 1581. The handwriting, both of master and man, was very bad, and it needed all the skill of M. Capperonier, the royal librarian at Paris, and of other experts, to disentangle the meaning of the caligraphy, and make a legible copy. When this was finished, it was placed in the hands of M. Querlon, who brought out the first edition in 1774.

It would be unreasonable to expect any elegancies of style in the portion of the “Journal” written down by the secretary from dictation, and when Montaigne himself takes the pen in hand he does not greatly mend matters. All through will be found the strangest mixture of subjects, and jerkiness of style. The most incongruous themes are treated in juxtaposition. At Augsburg, at the end of a discussion with a Lutheran theologian, he throws in the remark that they had white hares for supper; and again, while speaking of mixed marriages, he records that here they clean windows with a hairbrush fixed on the end of a stick. At Rome he passes in a breath from a consideration of the relative prevalence of heresy in France and Spain to a remark that all the cargo boats on the Tiber are towed by buffaloes. In cataloguing the advantages of the city as a place of abode he tells how many of the palaces of the high nobility were at the disposition of any strange gentleman who might wish to repair thither for the night with a companion to his taste, and how in no other city in the world could be heard so many sermons and theological disputes.

As soon as he had crossed the Alps on his homeward way Montaigne evidently looked upon his journey as over. The entries in the “Journal” are merely memoranda of the various stopping places, and the note of sadness in these closing sentences is very evident. All interest in the places he passed is now vanished, and the humours of the road appeal to him no more. He is going home, an old man afflicted by an ailment which has proved incurable, with only the prospect of a few years of invalid life before him, and he may well be excused for falling into a mood which throws a darker shade over the last pages of his record.

I

FRANCE

.. Monsieur de Montaigne sent Monsieur Mattecoulon (For notice of Mattecoulon and D’Estissac, see Introduction.)  with his squire by post to pay a visit to the count (There is no exact clue to the identity of this person, but there is a passage in the Essais, iii. 4, which seems to refer to him: “Je fus entre plusieurs autres de ses amis, conduire à Soissons le corps de Monsieur de Grammont, du siège de la Fère, où il fut tué.”) aforesaid, whom they found wounded, but not mortally. At Beaumont M. d’Estissac joined our party for the sake of company, our routes being the same. He had with him a gentleman, a valet-de-chambre, two lackeys, a muleteer and a mule, an addition equal in number to our own party, the outlay being equally divided. On Monday, September 5th, we left Beaumont after dinner, and rode in one bout to Meaux, where we arrived in time for supper.

Meaux is a small and handsome town on the Marne, divided into three parts. The town itself and its suburbs are on this side of the river towards Paris, and over the Marne lies another portion — the third — a large suburb known as the Marché, surrounded on all sides by the river and a well-constructed ditch, and containing many houses and inhabitants. This place was formerly strongly fortified by high and formidable walls and towers, but in the second period of our Huguenot troubles, the greater part of the inhabitants being of that party, all these defences were thrown down. This quarter also withstood the attack of the English, the other portions of the town being ruined, and by way of reward the inhabitants of the Marché are still exempted from payment of taille and other taxes. They point out in the Marne an island, two or three hundred feet in length, which was, they say, originally an embankment made by the English as a position from which the fortress of the Marché might be bombarded by warlike engines, the artificial work having become firm ground in the course of time. (Meaux was besieged by the English under Henry V. in 1422. The Marché was the last part to surrender. After the English had gained the town, Monstrelet writes {Ch cclvii.): “Dedens laquelle ville se loga le roy d’Angleterre et grant multitude de ses gens. Et tantost après gaigna une petite ysle assez près du marchié, en laquelle il fit asseoir plusieurs grosses bombardes qui moult terriblement craventèrent les maisons du dit marchié et aussi les murailles d’icelleui.” Ed. Paris, 1860.) In this faubourg we saw the abbey of Saint Faron, a building of great antiquity, where they show certain chambers in which Ogier the Dane (“Dans les premières années du xviii siècle on venait encore admirer à Saint Faron le somptueux tombeau d’Ogier, monument executé certainement avant le xii siècle, et suivant Mabillon dès le ix., fort peu de temps après la mort du héros. Ce n’est pas ici le lieu de décrire ce tombeau, dont une gravure nous est heureusement restée; mais pour faire voir l’étroit lieu qui unit les souvenirs historiques et les traditions romanesques, nous ajuterons que devant les colonnes avancées qui formaient une sorte de péristyle autour de la tombe d’Ogier et de Benoît, son compagnon de guerre, on distinguait) is said to have dwelt. There is also an ancient refectory, with tables of stone, very long and massive, and of an unwonted size, and in the middle of this hall was formerly a spring of fresh water which served for drinking. To this day most of the monks are men of gentle birth. Amongst other things is to be seen an ancient and stately tomb, upon which are carved in stone the figures of two knights of abnormal stature, and legend says that these represent Ogier the Dane and one of his paladins. It has neither inscription nor armorial device, nothing save a sentence in Latin which an abbot caused to be set thereon some hundred years ago, recording that two unknown heroes lie buried below; and in the treasury they still show the bones of these knights, the bone of the arm, from shoulder to elbow, being about the length of the entire arm of a man of average stature in these days, and a little longer than that of M. de Montaigne. They show likewise two of their swords, about the length of our own two-handed swords, the edges gapped by strokes of battle. At Meaux, M. de Montaigne paid a visit to the treasurer of the church of St. Stephen, one Juste Terrelle, a man of note amongst the savants of France, a little old man, sixty years of age, who has visited Egypt and Jerusalem, and lived seven years in Constantinople. He showed us his library and the curiosities of his garden, where the most wonderful thing we saw was a tree of box of round growth, and so thick by artificial cutting, that it seemed to be a circular ball, massive and trim, about a man’s height.

From Meaux, where we took our dinner on the Tuesday, we set out and slept at Charly, seven leagues distant. On Wednesday after dinner we went on to sleep at Dormans, seven leagues farther on, and on the morrow we arrived in time for dinner at Esprenei. After our arrival M. de Montaigne and M. d’Estissac went to the church of Notre Dame to hear Mass, as was their wont. M. de Montaigne had taken note that when M. de Strozzi was slain some years ago at Thionville they had buried his body in this church, wherefore he now inquired what manner of sepulture had been given him, and found that he had been buried in a spot in front of the high altar which was marked neither by memorial nor tombstone, nor armorial device, nor epitaph. They told us, moreover, that the queen had caused him to be buried thus simply because this was his desire. The day being the feast of our Lady of September the office was said by the bishop of Rennes, one of the Parisian family of Hanequin and abbé of this church. After the Mass was finished, M. de Montaigne met in the church M. Maldonat, a Jesuit well known to fame by reason of his philosophical and theological learning. They held divers learned discourses together during and after dinner in M. de Montaigne’s lodging, whither Maldonat had come to see him. Amongst other matters Maldonat described the baths of Spa, near by to Liège, where he had recently sojourned in company with M. de Nevers. These are exceedingly cold, and it is there considered that the colder the water the better. The springs are so cold that some who drink thereof fall into a trembling and shuddering, but soon after the water causes a fine feeling of warmth in the stomach. In his case he took a hundred ounces; the glasses being supplied by the attendants of whatever measure each particular visitor may require. The waters may be drunk fasting and also after a meal, and their effect seemed to be similar to those of Gascony. As to his own experience he gave certain observations concerning their strength, and as to the hurt which had befallen him through drinking the same when sweating and fatigued. He marked how frogs and other small animals died immediately they were thrown into the water, and how a handkerchief, which was placed over a glass filled with the same, quickly became yellow. The shortest course of treatment is fifteen days or three weeks. It is a place where excellent accommodation and lodgment may be found, and is most salutary in cases of gravel or obstruction. Nevertheless neither the speaker nor M. de Nevers got any relief from the waters.

Maldonat had with him the maître d’hotel of M. de Nevers. They gave to M. de Montaigne the printed paper relating to the dispute between M. de Montpensier and M. de Nevers, so that he might be rightly informed concerning the matter, and be able to explain the same to any gentlefolk who might question him thereanent. We set forth on the Friday morning and travelled seven leagues to Châlons. Here we lodged at the “Crown,” a fine house, where we were served on silver plate, and most of us were provided with silken bedding. The ordinary houses of this district are built of chalk stone, cut into small blocks about half a foot square; some, however, are of turf, treated in like fashion. On the morrow we set out after dinner and slept at Vitri le François, seven leagues farther on.

This is a small town on the banks of the Marne, built some thirty-five or forty years ago in place of the former town, which had been burnt. It still keeps its original form, pleasant and well proportioned, and in the midst thereof is a large square, one of the finest in France. During our sojourn there, three marvellous stories were told to us. One was that Madame the Dowager de Guise de Bourbon, who was living at the age of eighty-seven years, could still go afoot for the distance of a quarter of a league. Another was, that a short time ago, execution had been done at Montirandet, a place close by, upon one condemned for a certain offence. Several years before, seven or eight girls belonging to Chaumont-en-Bassigni had secretly determined to put on male attire, and to live the life of men. Amongst these one, called Mary, came from Vitry aforenamed. She got her living by weaving, passing as a well-favoured young man, and on friendly terms with every one. She engaged herself to marry a woman of Vitry, who is still alive, but on account of some strife which arose between them, the match went no further. Afterwards, having gone to Montirandet, and still following the weavers calling, she fell in love again with a certain woman, with whom she married and lived, as the story goes, contentedly four or five months. But, having been recognised by some one living at Chaumont, and the matter having been brought to the notice of the courts, she was condemned to be hanged; whereupon she Montier-en-Der. declared she would liefer suffer thus than live a woman’s life. She was hanged on the charge of using unlawful appliances to remedy the defects of her sex.

The third story is of a man still living named Germain, of humble condition, and engaged in no employment. Up to the age of twenty-two years he had been regarded by all the townsfolk as a girl, albeit the chin was more hairy than that of other girls, for which reason she was called Marie la barbue. It came to pass one day when she put forth all her strength in taking a leap, that the distinctive signs of manhood showed themselves, whereupon the Cardinal of Lenon-court, at that time bishop of Châlons, gave him the name of Germain. This personage is still unmarried, and has a large thick beard. We could not see him because he was away at the village where he lived. A popular song, sung by the girls of the place, warns all girls against taking long strides lest they should become men like Marie Germain. Report says that Ambrose Paré has taken note of this tale in his book on surgery. It is certainly true, and testimony thereof was given to M. de Montaigne by the chief officials of the town. We left this place after breakfast on Sunday morning and travelled to Bar, a distance of nine leagues.

M. de Montaigne had already visited this town. He now came upon nothing fresh worth noting, save the extraordinary outlay which a certain priest, the dean of the place, had made, and was still making, over public works. His name was Gilles de Trêves. He has built a chapel of marble, with paintings and ornaments, the most sumptuous of any in France; and besides this, he has erected and almost furnished a house which is the finest in the town, of the fairest structure, the best planned and furnished, elaborated with rich carved work and most comfortable as a residence. This he desires to make a college, to endow the same, and set it to work at his own charges. From Bar, where we took our dinner on the Monday morning, we journeyed four leagues to Mannese, where we slept.

This was a small village, where M. de Montaigne was forced to halt by reason of a colic, for which same cause he put aside the plan he had formed of seeing Toul, Metz, Nancy, Joinville, and St. Disier, towns scattered along the route, and repaired direct by diligence to the baths of Plombières. From Mannese we departed on the Tuesday morning, and took our dinner at Vaucouleur, a place a league farther on. Passing along the banks of the Meuse we came to Donremy-sur-Meuse, seven leagues from Vaucouleur, where was born the famous Maid of Orleans named Jeanne Day or Dallis. Her family was afterwards ennobled by the king, who made a grant of arms which was shown to us; azure with a straight sword, crowned and with a golden hilt, and two fleurs-de-lis in gold beside the sword aforenamed. A certain receiver of Vaucouleur gave a painted escutcheon of the same to M. de Caselis. The front of the little house where she Charles VII. was born is all painted with her feats, but the colour is much decayed through age. There is also a tree beside a vineyard which they call “l’arbre de la Pucelle,” but there is nothing remarkable about it. That evening we slept, after travelling five leagues, at Neufchasteau.

Here in the church of the Cordeliers are many ancient tombs, three or four hundred years old, erected to the memory of the nobles of the province. The inscriptions thereon all run in these terms: “Here lies a certain one who died when the tale of years was passing through the twelve hundreds,” &C. M. de Montaigne went to see the library, which contains many books, but none of them rare; and a well from which  water is drawn by vast buckets which are turned by stepping with the feet on to a wooden plank attached to a wheel: the axle of the wheel aforesaid being a piece of wood to which the well rope is fastened. He had seen elsewhere others like it. Beside the well is a great stone trough, six or seven feet above the brim, and the bucket rises and empties water into this trough without further help, and lowers itself when empty. This trough is raised so high that by means of leaden pipes the water of the well finds its way to the refectory and kitchen and bath-house. It likewise springs forth out of masses of stone, built to counterfeit natural fountains. We breakfasted in the morning at Neufchasteau, and after travelling six leagues we supped at Mirecourt.

This is a fair little town where M. de Montaigne heard tidings of M. and Madame de Bourbon who dwelt near thereto. On the morning of the morrow after breakfast he went a quarter of a league or so aside from our route to see the nuns of Poussay. This was one of those religious houses, of which there are many in these parts, established for the maintenance of women of good family. Each one has pension by way of sustenance, of one, two, or three hundred crowns, some less, some more, and a separate dwelling where each one can live apart. There little girls are taken in to nurse; no obligation of virginity is laid upon any except those holding office, to wit, the abbess, the prioress, and certain others. They have liberty to dress as they will, like other ladies, except that they wear on their heads a white veil; and, in church during the Mass, they wear a large cloak which they leave behind them in their seat in the choir. The inmates can receive any acquaintance who may come to seek them, whether to urge them to matrimony or for any other reason. Any one who is so minded may sell her annuity to whomsoever she will, provided that this person be of the class and condition required. For certain of the nobles of the district have this duty laid upon them, to wit, that they must be satisfied by a sworn declaration as to the lineage of the candidate whom any one may bring forward. It is not unbecoming for one nun to hold three or four annuities. During their sojourn they attend religious services the same as in other places, and the greater part of them end their days there without desiring change of condition.

On leaving this place we rode five leagues to supper at Espine, a well-built little town where entry was denied to us for that we had journeyed by Neufchasteau where the plague had raged a short time ago. On the next day in the morning we reached Plommieres in time for dinner, a journey of four leagues.

From Bar-le-Duc onwards the leagues are again of the Gascon measure, and as one approaches Germany they become longer and longer, so that, at last, they wax double, or even treble. We entered Plommieres on Friday the 16th of September 1580, at two o’clock in the afternoon. It is on the borders of Lorraine and Germany, situated in a chasm between divers lofty scarped hills, which close it in on all sides. At the bottom of this valley several springs, cold and hot as well, flow forth. The hot water has neither smell nor taste, and is by nature as hot as any one can endure to drink: so much so that M. de Montaigne was obliged to pass it from glass to glass. Only two of the springs are drunk. One which flows from the eastward and forms the bath, which they call the Queen’s Bath, leaves in the mouth a certain sweet taste, not unlike liquorice, and no disagreeable aftertaste. But after very careful attention, M. de Montaigne declared that a slight flavour of iron might be detected therein. The other spring which rises at the base of the mountain opposite, and of which M. de Montaigne drank only one day, is slightly harsh, and has the flavour of alum. The habit of the place is to take a bath two or three times a day. Some take their meals in the bath, where they are cupped and scarified, and do not drink the waters except after a purge. If they drink at all, they take a glass or two in the bath. They deemed the practice of M. de Montaigne a mighty strange one, to wit that, without any preparatory medicine, he should take nine glasses of water, amounting to a potful, every morning at seven, and dine at mid-day; that on the days when he bathed — every other one — he should fix upon four o’clock, and only stay about an hour in the water. And on these days he willingly went without his supper.

We saw some men cured of ulcers and others of pimples on the body. The wonted course is a month at least, and rooms are let most readily in May. Few people frequent the place after the month of August, by reason of the cold, but we found much company there till, because the heat and drought had been abnormally prolonged. Amongst others, M. de Montaigne gained the friendship and acquaintance of the Seigneur d’Andelot of Franche Conté, the son of the master of the horse of the Emperor Charles V. He himself was chief field-marshal in the army of Don John of Austria, and he held the governorship of St. Quentin after we lost the place. One portion of his beard and one side of his eyebrow had become white, and he told M. de Montaigne how this change had come about in a moment of time, on a certain day when he was filled with distress over the death of one of his brothers, whom the Duke of Alva had put to death as an accomplice of the Counts Egmont and Horn. He was sitting resting his head upon his hand, which touched the places beforenamed, wherefore his attendants, when they saw what had happened to him, deemed that some flour must have fallen upon him by accident. He has been like this ever since.

This bath was formerly used only by Germans, but for several years past the people of Franche Conté and France have come in great numbers. There are several baths, and the principal one is built oval in shape, after the fashion of an ancient edifice. It is thirty-five paces long and fifteen wide. — The hot water rises from several springs, and cold water is made to trickle down into the bath so that the heat may be moderated according to the taste of those who use it. The places in the bath are set out side by side by bars suspended like those in our stables, and planks are laid over the top so as to keep off the heat of the sun and the rain. The visitors in this place maintain a singular propriety of carriage, and it is reckoned indecent for men to bathe naked or with less clothing than a little jacket, or for women to wear less than a chemise. We lodged at the “Angel,” which is the best house, because it communicates with two of the baths. The charge for lodging, when several rooms were engaged, was no more than fifteen sous a day. The hosts supply all wood for this charge, but the country is so rich therein that it costs nothing but the cutting, and the hostesses do exceedingly well in the kitchens. When the high season comes a lodging like this one would cost a crown a day, and be cheap at the price. Horse feed is seven sous a day, and everything else the visitor needs to buy is good and reasonable in price. The chambers are not sumptuous, but very convenient, and, by reason of the numerous galleries, there is never need to pass through one to reach another; but the wine and bread are bad. The people are worthy, independent, sensible, and obliging. All the laws of the land are religiously observed, and every year they write afresh on a tablet, hung up in front of the principal bath, the laws there inscribed in the German and French tongues as follows: —

“Claude de Rynach, knight, lord of St. Balesmont, Montureulz en Ferette, Lenda-court, &c., councillor and chamberlain of our sovereign lord monseigneur the Duke &c., and his balli of the Vosges.

“Let it be known that for securing the comfort and quietude of the many ladies and other persons coming from divers countries to these baths of Plommieres, we have (according to the intention of his Highness) decreed and ordained as follows:

“Let it be known that corrective discipline for light offences shall remain as heretofore in the hands of the Germans, who are enjoined to enforce observation of all ceremonies, regulations, and police, which have hitherto been used for the seemly maintenance of the baths aforesaid, and for the punishment of offences committed by those of their own nation, without granting exception to any person by the payment of ransom, and without using blasphemy or other irreverent remarks against the Catholic Church and the traditions of the same.

“It is forbidden to all people, of whatever quality, condition, region, or province they may be, to use provocation in insulting language tending to lead to quarrels: to carry arms while at the baths aforesaid: to give the lie: to put hand to arms under pain of severe punishment as breakers of the peace, rebels and disobedient to his Highness.

“Also it is forbidden to all prostitutes and immodest women to enter the baths, or to be found within five hundred paces of the same under penalty of a whipping at the four corners of the town. And the householders who shall receive or conceal them shall incur the pain of imprisonment and arbitrary fine.

“The same penalty will fall on those who shall use any lascivious or immodest discourse to any ladies, or damsels, or other women and girls who may be visiting the baths, or touch them in a manner unbecoming, or enter or quit the baths in ribald fashion, contrary to public decency.

“And because by the boon of the baths aforenamed God and nature have afforded us cure and relief in many cases, and because decent cleanliness and purity are necessary in order to keep off the many contagions and infections which might well engender in such a place, it is expressly commanded to the governor of these baths to take the utmost care, and to inspect the persons of those who frequent the same by day and by night; to make them keep decency and silence during the night, making no noise, nor scandal, nor horse-play. And if any person will not render obedience the governor shall forthwith carry the affair before the magistrate, so that an exemplary punishment may be given. Beyond this it is prohibited to all persons coming from infected places to repair to Plommieres under pain of death. It is expressly laid upon all mayors and officers of justice to have careful watch over the place; and upon all the townsfolk, to furnish us with billets containing the names, surnames, and residence of all the people they may have taken into their lodgings, under pain of imprisonment. All the ordinances above declared have been this day published in front of the great bath of Plommieres aforesaid, and copies of the same, both in French and in German, affixed to the nearest and most prominent portion of the bath, and signed by us, Balli of the Vosges: Given at Plommieres the fourth day of May in the year of our Lord 15.”

We tarried at this place from the 18th to the 27 th of September. M. de Montaigne drank the water eleven days, nine glasses on eight days, and seven glasses the other three, and took five baths. He found the water easy to drink, and the effects of the same all he could wish. Appetite, digestion, and sleep were alike good, and his general health suffered no injury from these waters. On the sixth day he was seized with a colic, more violent than his ordinary attacks, and with pain on the right side, where he had never hitherto been troubled, save once in the course of a very trifling attack at Arsac. This seizure lasted four hours, and while it was on him he felt plainly the working and the movement of the stone in the urethra and the lower part of the stomach. The first two days he passed two small stones from the bladder, and gravel occasionally afterwards. When he left these baths he deemed that he had still in his bladder both the stone of this attack of colic, and certain other small ones of which he had felt the downward passage. He judged the qualities of these waters, with regard to his own case, to be much the same as those of the high spring of Banieres, where there is a bath. He found the temperature of the bath very mild, indeed, children of six months or a year old are wont to sprawl about therein. His perspiration was copious and gentle. He directed me for the gratification of his landlady to let her have the escutcheon of his arms on wood — this being the custom of the country — which escutcheon a painter of the place did for a crown, and the hostess caused it to be hung up on the outside wall.