ment to which they would persuade them; let them never trouble themselves more about it,* forasmuch as they shall have credit enough with posterity to assure them, that were there nothing else but the very letters thus writ to them, those letters will render their names as famous as their own public actions could do. And besides this difference, these are not frothy and empty letters, that have nothing but well chosen words, in a proper cadence, to support them, but rather replete and abounding with fine lessons of wisdom by which a man may render himself not more eloquent, but more wise; and that instruct us not to speak but to do well: away with that eloquence which so enchants us with its harmony, that we would study it more than things; unless you think that of Cicero so perfect, as to form a complete body of itself.

quence.

And of him I shall add one story more, which we Cicero very read of him to this purpose, whereby we shall be let fond of elofully into his temper. He was to make an oration in public, and found himself a littled straitened in time, to fit his words to please him, when Eros,† one of his slaves, brought him word that the audience was deferred till the next day, at which he was so ravished with joy, that he enfranchised him for the good news.

taigne's ge

To what has been already said on the subject of Monletters, let me add, that it is a kind of writing the wherein my friends think I can do something; epistolary

66

66

* When Epicurus wrote to Idomeneus, then the slave of rigid power, and who had great affairs in his hands, to persuade him from a gay life, to the pursuit of true and solid glory, "If," said he, “ you are fond of glory, my epistles will make you more celebrated "than all things that you admire, and for which you are admired." Seneca, ep. 21, who, in the same epistle, says to his friend Lucilius," The very thing which Epicurus could promise to his "friend, I promise to you, Lucilius; I shall be in the favour of pos"terity: it is in my power to bring out names that shall be lasting." + Plutarch, in his Notable Sayings of Kings, &c. in the article of Cicero.

I have met with eight letters from Montaigne, wherewith I shall enrich this edition, that may give some idea of what he here says.

VOL. I.

X

style.

and I should rather have chose to publish my whimsies in that than any other form, did I know to whom to write; but I wanted such a settled correspondence as I once had, to attract me to it, to raise my fancy, and to support me. For to traffic with the wind, as some others have done, and to forge vain names to correspond with, on a serious subject, I could never do it but in a dream, being a sworn enemy to all manner of fiction: I would have been more diligent, and more confidently secure, had I had a hearty friend, to whom to address, than to consider the different aspects of a whole people, and I am deceived if I had not succeeded better. I have naturally a comic and familiar style; but it is a peculiar one, and not proper for public business, my language being in all respects, too compact, irregular, abrupt, and singular; and as to letters of ceremony, that have no other substance than a fine chain of courteous words, I am wholly to seek; I have neither faculty, nor relish, for those tedious offers of service and affection; I have not so much faith in them, and would not forgive myself, should I offer more than I intend, which is very different from the version to present practice; for there never was so abject and the extra servile prostitutions of tenders of life, soul, devotion, adoration, vassal, slave, and I cannot tell what, as now; when such expressions are so commonly and so indifferently bandied to and fro by every one, and to every one, that when they would profess a stronger and more respectful inclination they have not wherewithal to express it. I mortally hate all air of flattery, whence I naturally fall into a dry, rough, and crude way of speaking, which, to such as do not know me, may savour a little of disdain: I honour those most to whom I pay the least; and when my soul is cheerful, I forget all ceremony. Methinks they should read it in my heart, and that my expression injures my conception. To bid welcome, take leave, give thanks, salute, offer my service, and such verbal formalities, as the ceremonious laws of

Mon

taigne's a

vagant compli

ments in letters.

ness to

commenda

our civility enjoin, I know no man so stupidly unpro- His unfitvided of language as myself: and have never been w employed in writing letters of favour, and recom-ters of remendation, but he for whom I wrote thought them cold and flat. The Italians are great printers of letters. I do believe I have a hundred volumes of them; of all of which, those of Hannibal Caro seem to me to be the best. If all the paper I have formerly stained to the ladies, when my hand was really prompted by love, was now in being, there might perhaps be found a page worthy to be communicated to our young inamoratos, who are intoxicated with that passion.

in which

I always write my letters in post haste, so that The hurry though mine is an intolerable bad hand, I rather Montaigne choose to write myself, than to employ another; for wrote. I can find none able to write fast enough for my dictating, and I never transcribe any. I have accustomed the great ones that know me to put up with my blots and dashes, and upon paper without fold or margin. Those letters that cost me the most pains, are the worst; when I drag the matter in, it is a sign that I am not there. I fall to without premeditation or design; the first paragraph begets the second, and so on. The letters of this The letters of this age consist more in margin, and prefaces, than matter; I had rather write two letters, than close and fold up one, and always assign that employment to some other; so also, when the business is dispatched, I would, with all my heart, commission another hand, to add those long harangues, offers, and prayers that we place at the bottom, and would be glad that some new custom discharged us of that unnecessary trouble; as also that of superscribing them with a train of qualities, and titles, which, for fear of mistakes, I have often omitted writing, and especially to men of the law and the revenue. So many are the innovations of offices, and so hard it is to place so many titles of honour in their proper and due or der, which being dearly bought, they cannot be

changed, nor omitted without offence. I find the same fault likewise in charging the title-pages and inscriptions of the books we commit to the press, with such a clutter of titles.

The basis of our opini

and evil.

CHAPTER XL.

That the Relish of Good and Evil depends, in a great Measure, upon the Opinion we have of either. MEN (says an ancient Greek sentence) are toron of good mented with the opinions they have of things, and not by the things themselves. It were a great point carried for the relief of our miserable human condition, could the truth of this proposition be established. For if evils have no admission into us but by the judgment we ourselves make of them, it should seem that it is in our own power to despise them, or to turn them to good. If things surrender to our mercy, why do we not manage and accommodate them to our advantage? If what we call evil and torment is neither evil nor torment of itself, but only our fancy gives it that quality, and makes it so, it is in our power to change it; and it being in our own choice, if there be no constraint upon us, we are strange fools, to take part with that side which is most disgustful to us, and to give sickness, want, and contempt, a sour nauseous taste, if it be in our power to give them a more grateful relish, and if fortune simply provide the matter it is for us to give it the form.

What evil

it concerEs

Now that what we call evil is not so of itself, or is, and how at least, be it what it will, that it depends upon us to give it another taste or complexion (which amounts to the same thing), let us examine how this can be maintained. If the original being of those things we fear could lodge itself in us, by its own authority, it

would lodge in a like manner in all; for men are universally of the same nature, and, saving in greater or less proportions, are all provided with the same tools and instruments to conceive and to judge; but the diversity of opinions we have of those things, shows clearly that they only enter us by composition: one person, perhaps, admits them in their true state; but a thousand others give them a new and contrary being in their breast.

ferent ideas

We hold death, poverty, and pain, for our prin- The difcipal enemies; but this death, which some repute of death. the most dreadful of all dreadful things, who knows not that others call it the only secure harbour from the tempests of life? the sovereign good of nature? the sole support of our liberty, and the common and ready remedy of all evils? And as the one expects it with fear and trembling, the other supports it with greater ease than life. That blade complains of its facility:

Mors utinam pavidos vitâ subducere nolles,

Sed virtus te sola daret.*

O death! I wish thou wouldst the coward spare,
That of thy gifts the brave alone might share.

But let us leave this boasted courage. Theodorus answered Lysimachus, who threatened to kill him, "Thou wilt do a brave feat," said he, "to show "thou hast the force of a cantharides."* The greatest part of philosophers are observed to have either purposely prevented, or hastened and assisted their own death. How many common people do we see led to execution, and to a death mixed also with shame, and sometimes with grievous torments, appear with such assurance, what through obstinacy or natural simplicity, that a man can discover no change from their ordinary state of mind; settling their domestic affairs, recommending themselves to their friends, singing, preaching, and entertaining the peo

* Luc. lib. iv. ver. 58, 531.

+ Cic. Tusc. Quæst. lib. v. cap. 40.