MONTAIGNE STUDIES

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MONTAIGNE STUDIES, An Interdisciplinary Forumt is issued

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CONTENTS

Vol. III, nO 1, September 1991

Robert D. Cottrell
An Introduction to La Botie's Three
Latin Poems Dedicated to Montaigne

tienne de La Botie
Poemata, Edited by James S. Hirstein
and Translated by Robert D. CottreU

15

James S. Hirstein
La Botie's Neo-Latin Satire

48

Gisle Mathieu-Castellani
Dire, Signifier: La Figure de
la Significatio dans les Essais

68

VanKelly
From the Tower: The Return to Generality
in Montaigne's De trois commerces

82

Richard L. Regosin
Montaigne's Dutiful Daughter

103

An Introduction to La Botie's
Three Latin Poems Dedicated to Montaigne
Robert D. Cottrell
The Context
The thirty-seven-year-old Montaigne spent much of 1570
preparing for his retirement from the Parlement de Bordeaux
(his resignation is dated July 24) where, for some sixteen years,
he had served as a respected if not particularly remarkable legislator. Suffering (as he would later tell us in the Essais) from
depression, he thought that his lifeat least his active, public
lifewas over. Throughout 1570, he settled old obligations and
simplified his life so that the last act, which he expected to be
brief and uneventful, might move swiftly and smoothly to its
inevitable conclusion.
In 1569, he had already paid off one important debt when he
published his translation of Raymond Sebond's Thologie
naturelle, a text that, if we are to believe what he says in the
Essais, he translated at the request of his father, who had died in
June of 1568. The publication of the Thologie was a promise
finally kept, a monument erected to the memory of "le meilleur
pere qui fut onques" (I, 28, 185a).1 It was also a talisman
intended to lay to rest the ghost of a father who at one time had
had doubts about his son's ability to manage the estate that he
would one day inherit.2
Another equally important debt to the past remained to be
settled. La Botie had died on August 18, 1563, leaving his
library and papers to Montaigne. Writing in 1570, Montaigne

1
All quotations from the Essais are from V.-L. Saulnier's reissue of Pierre
Villey's 1924 edition, Les Essais de Michel de Montaigne (Paris: Presses
Universitaires de France, 1965), and will henceforth be identified in the text.
2
In his will dated February 4, 1561, Montaigne's father specified that his wife,
not his oldest son, Michel, was to govern the estate. Nine months before his death, on
September 22, 1567, he made a new will naming Michel as executor of his property.
See Donald M. Frame, Montaigne, A Biography (New York: Har-court, Brace &
World, 1965), pp. 24-25.

Robert D. Cottrell

explains that in going through La Botie's papers he discovered a

number of political or literary works that La Botie had written
"par maniere de passetemps."3 "A la verit," Montaigne notes, "
mesure que chaque faillie luy venoit la teste, il s'en dechargeoit
sur le premier papier qui luy tomboit en main, sans autre soing
de le conserver" (Bonnefon, 61).
If La Botie had been too busy living an active and politically useful life to arrange the texts he had written into a literary
testament capable of transmitting to future readers some sense
of his mind and spirit, Montaigne would do it for him. Moreover, might not the publication of his friend's work be a
responsebelated, certainlyto the extraordinary request La Botie had made an hour or so before he died? Weakened by days
of dysentery and fever, La Botie had suddenly seemed to
recover his strength. "Il se print," Montaigne later wrote to his
father, " me prier & reprier avecques une extreme affection, de
luy donner une place: de sorte que j'eus peur que son jugement
fust esbranl."4 Montaigne sought to quiet the dying man, who,
however, "redoubla encores plus fort: "Mon frere, mon frere, me
refusez-vous doncques une place?" Montaigne then tried "de le
convaincre par raison, & de luy dire, que puis qu'il respiroit &
parloit, & qu'il avoit corps, il avoit par consequent son lieu." La
Botie answered impatiently that that was not what he meant.
Too weak and distraught to continue the conversation, he died
an hour later.
Having placated his father's ghost in 1569, the Montaigne of
1570, intent on setting things right with the past before confronting the future, had yet to fulfill an unspoken obligation to La
Botie. He had yet to find an appropriate "place" for La Botie's
manuscripts, texts that, metonymically, constituted the remains of
his dead friend. During the early months of 1570, Montaigne
gathered together what he could find of La Botie's works and

"A Monseigneur Monsieur de L'Hospital," Montaigne's dedication in the

1571 edition of La Botie's Poemata, reprinted in uvres compltes d'Estienne de
la Botie, ed. Paul Bonnefon (Bordeaux: G. Gounouilhou & Paris: J. Rouam,
1892), p. 205. References to the various prefaces in this edition will be identified
in the text.
4
Montaigne, uvres compltes, eds. Albert Thibaudet and Maurice Rat,
Bibliothque de la Pliade (Paris: Gallimard, 1962), p. 1359.

Three Latin Poems Dedicated to Montaigne

arranged for them to be published by the Parisian printer,

Federic Morel. The book appeared in 1571 in two volumes.
The first volume consists of three translations La Botie had
done from the GreekLa Mesnagerie de Xenophon, Les regles de
mariage de Plutarque, and the Lettre de consolation de Plutarque
sa femmeas well as twenty-eight Latin poems La Botie had
written, which are grouped under the generic title of "Poemata."
The second volume contains La Botie's French poems (grouped
under the equally generic title of "Vers Franois") and concludes
with the long and moving letter Montaigne had written to his
father immediately after La Botie's death. Each work is
preceded by a dedication addressed to a public figure of note, the
single exception being the Lettre de consolation de Plutarque sa
femme, which Montaigne dedicated to his own wife. Plutarch's
Lettre de consolation had been prompted by the death of a
daughter. In 1570, Montaigne and his wife lost their first child,
the two-month old Toinette, and Montaigne, in his dedication
explicitly redirects Plutarch's message of consolation to his own
wife.
Volume one opens with an "Advertissement au lecteur" in
which Montaigne explains that he was unable to locate several of
La Botie's works: namely, a poem entitled "Les antiquitez de
Bourges" and the poems La Botie had written in Greek. (These
works have never been found.) He is, however, publishing everything by La Botie he has been able to locate except for two
political texts that La Botie had written years before and that
would, Montaigne feared, be misread and misjudged in the political climate of 1570-71: the Discours de la servitude volontaire and
the Mmoire sur la pacification des troubles.
The exclusion of these two political tracts from the 1571 edition of La Botie's work means that the La Botie Montaigne
presents to readers is not the politically active, public La Botie
who had been admired by his contemporaries but a private La
Botie concerned, especially in volume one, with matters of
household management, marriage, and domesticity. There is a
subtle concordance between the subject matter of the texts
enshrined in the La Botie memorial Montaigne published in
1571 and Montaigne's own preoccupations throughout 1570 and

Robert D. Cottrell

1571, indeed, throughout the years during which he wrote the

Essais: privacy, friendship, the dynamics of family life, the
management of interior, domestic space. Scholars have perhaps
not yet fully explored the ways in which La Botie's texts, as distinct from Montaigne's memory of La Botie, contributed to the
shaping of Montaigne's own literary project, begun in, precisely,
1571 with, as Montaigne will later explain in the 1580 preface to
the Essais, no other goal in mind than the writing of a private and
domestic document. The problematic of private space, which
informs in one way or another all the texts by La Botie that
Montaigne published in 1571 (and, indeed, the two political
tracts Montaigne chose not to publish), deeply informs the
Essais.

In the dedications that introduce La Botie's texts,

Montaigne reminds his readers that what motivated him to collect La Botie's work was "la saincte amiti" that he and La Botie "[avaient] prattiqu ensemble" (Bonnefon, 205). Both La
Botie and Montaigne believed that friendship is an active virtue.
Though the bond that links friends may have its origin in
inexplicable affinities, it is tempered and tested by innumerable
small acts, by mutual "devoirs" joyfully performed. In the dedication that precedes La mesnagerie de Xenophon, Montaigne articulates, as he will later in "De l'amiti" (I, 28), his sense that friendship is both a gift, something akin to what theologians call grace,
and a relationship that must be nurtured and cultivated:
"Il [La Botie] m'a faict cest honneur, vivant, que je mets au compte de la
meilleure fortune des miennes, de dresser avec moy une cousture d'amiti
si estroicte & si joincte, qu'il n'y a eu biais, mouvement ny ressort en son
ame, que je n'aye pu considerer & juger, au moins si ma veu" n'a
quelquefois tir court. Or, sans mentir, il estoit, tout prendre, si pres du
miracle, que pour, me jettant hors des barrieres de la vray' semblance, ne
me faire mescroire du tout, il est force, parlant de luy, que je me reserre &
restraigne au dessoubs de ce que j'en say (Bonnefon, 63-64).

The Text

The theme of friendship, which informs Montaigne's

"Advertissement au lecteur" and the dedications he wrote for
each of La Botie's texts, is also the organizing theme in the
three Latin poems La Botie dedicated to Montaigne. Included

Three Latin Poems Dedicated to Montaigne

in the twenty-eight Latin poems that conclude the first volume of

Montaigne's edition of La Botie works, they testify, despite the
exaggeration characteristic of humanist poetry, to La Botie's
friendship for Montaigne. They are of further interest to readers
of the Essais in that they trace out a moral and psychological
portrait of the young Montaigne before he became, as it were,
Montaigne, author of a canonical text.
The first and shortest of the poems (50 lines) is addressed
jointly to Jean de Belot and Montaigne. Here, La Botie
expresses his distress at the prospect of a France weakened by
political and religious hostility and by a loss in the sense of civic
responsibility. He vows to flee the corruption of Europe and to
seek exile in the New World. Brief though it is, this text makes
use of the two main discourses that shaped Renaissance discussions of the New World: a Utopian discourse in which the New
World is viewed fundamentally as Other; and a colonial discourse
in which the New World is perceived as territory ripe for European exploitation.
In the second poem (72 lines), La Botie, after suggesting
that it might seem ridiculous for someone of his relative youth to
give advice, urges Montaigne, who was in fact three years his
junior, to choose a life of virtue, toil, and effort over a life of
leisure, ease, and comfort. The Montaigne that emerges from
this poem is a young man of promise who, despite his admirable
qualities and a sincere wish to emulate his virtuous father, is so
driven by a hunger for pleasure that he risks frittering away his
life in debauchery. Warning Montaigne against the subtle and
deceptive charms of hedonism, La Botie retells the ancient fable
known as "Hercules's Choice" or "Hercules at the Crossroads," a
fable first told, as far as we know, by Xenophon. In Xenophon's
account, Virtue and Happiness (the latter says her enemies call
her Vice) appear before the young Hercules. Each encourages
the youth to follow her. Each promises him rewards. Virtue
promises toil and effort, but also honor and fame. Happiness (or
Vice) promises a life of idleness and sensual delight.
In La Botie's version of the fable, Happiness becomes
Voluptas. La Botie's description of the physical attributes of
Vertu and Voluptas is close to, but not identical to, Xenophon's.
Although the changes La Botie made in his description may at

Robert D. Cottrell

first seem minor, they lift the fable from its pagan context and
situate it squarely in the context of medieval Christianity.
Xenophon says of Happiness (or Vice): "[She] was plump and
soft, with high feeding. Her face was made up to heighten its
natural white and pink, her figure to exaggerate her height.
Open-eyed was she, and dressed so as to disclose all her
charms."5 To this description La Botie adds the information
that Voluptas's rosy cheeks arouse "wanton lust" (cupido, 34).
More telling, however, are the lines that come next. Having
drawn our attention to the richness of Voluptas's dress and to the
beauty of the upper parts of her body (perfumed hair, white
shoulders, rosy cheeks), La Botie now demands that we look
beneath her dress and examine the lower part of her body, which
is hideous and repulsive. He declares that "her feet and ankles,
bony and broken with age and licence, can scarcely support her
exhausted body" (34-36). There is nothing remotely like this in
Xenophon's version. La Botie's Voluptas is "a shameless old
woman" (37), "a lewd whore" (49) on whose body are inscribed
not the signs of pagan happiness, not even the signs of pagan
vice, but, rather, the wages of Christian Sin, that is to say, Death.
Articulated in the syntax of the macabre (putrefaction of the
flesh, skeletal imagery), La Botie's Voluptas, in accord with a
theological dynamic that generated countless such representations in the high Middle Ages, figures carnal pleasure as Sin and
Death.6
The third poem (322 lines) recasts the fable of Hercules.
Here the young Montaigne is presented as a youth whose
remarkable talents would incline him towards Virtue were it not
for his passionate nature, which has, for the time being at least,
led him down the path of Pleasure. La Botie is present in the
text as a hectoring voice that seeks to warn Montaigne of the
dangers of Pleasure before it is too late. After enumerating the
perils a young man will encounter if he pursues a married women
(the text hints that twice Montaigne barely escaped being

5
Memorabilia and conomicus, trans. O. J. Todd, The Loeb Classical Library
(Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1979), p. 95.
6

See Claude Blum, La reprsentation de la mort dans la littrature franaise de

la renaissance , 2 vols. (Paris: Champion, 1989), esp. ch. 1.

Three Latin Poems Dedicated to Montaigne

whipped by angry husbands), La Botie enumerates the equally

grave perils he will encounter if he frequents brothels. Yielding
to the power of voluptas (211, 269), which La Botie also calls
libido (125, 266), the young Montaigne risks sinking into "filth,"
(coenum, 208). Already libido has so profoundly perverted his
will and reason that he actually "wants to sin" (quaeris peccare,
216).
Latin authors, Cicero and Lucretius in particular, had used
the word voluptas to designate sexual desire.7 They had not,
however, equated voluptas with libido. Nor had they established
semantic equivalence between voluptas/libido on the one hand
and coenum, peccatum (sin), and malum (evil) on the other.8 It
was Augustine who had aligned libido (carnal delight) with
coenum (the filth of lust, De magistro, 9:25, 28).9 Although La
Botie clearly modeled his poem on the Latin satires of antiquity,
the concept of "pleasure" that is inscribed in his text was
mediated by Augustine. John had said that the world of matter is
marked by concupiscentia (1 John 2:16), and Paul had affirmed
that the root of all evil is cupiditas (1 Tim. 6:10). Augustine, collapsing concupiscentia into cupiditas, made libido a synonym for
cupiditas in its sexual application. "Amor" Augustine declared,
"cum pravus est, vocatur cupiditas aut libido" (Enarrationes in
psalmos, 9:15, "Love, when it is perverse, is called cupiditas or
libido.)
By "perverse" (pravus ) Augustine means desire that is not
controlled by reason. To the extent that libido is an "irrational
desire" ("inrationalis cupiditas" De civitate dei, 14: 22), it is a sign

On Cicero's use of the word voluptas, see P. Milton Valente, s.j.,

L'Ethique stocienne chez Cicron (Pars: Librairie Saint Paul, 1956), pp. 304-10,
and Alain Michel, Rhtorique et philosophie chez Cicron (Paris: Presses
Universitaires de France, 1960), p. 324. See Lucretius's famous condemnation of
sexual passion in De rerum natura, 4, 1085-1287.
8
Lucretius uses the word mala once in his analysis of human sexuality at
the end of Book 4 of De rerum natura (1. 1141). The "evils" to which he refers are
the torments of conscience and jealousy; they are in no way linked to coenum and
peccatum.
9
For a discussion of Augustine's use of the word coenum in De magistro,
see John V. Fleming, Reason and the Lover (Princeton University Press, 1983),
pp. 109-10. Also Kenneth Burke, The Rhetoric of Religion (Boston: Beacon
Press, 1961), p. 97.

Robert D. Cottrell

10

of sin and of man's fallen state. Contrary to a later moral theology that would claim to be "Augustinian," Augustine did not
utter a blanket condemnation of sexual activity. Indeed, sexuality
was part of God's plan and had existed in the Garden of Eden,
for there God had commanded Adam and Eve to "multiply."
There is, however, a fundamental difference between preiapsarian and postlapsarian sexuality. In accord with God's design,
preiapsarian sexuality had been governed and regulated by
reason, the human faculty that most closely resembles God.
Indeed, up to at least the time of Aquinas, Christians almost
universally held that God is figured in man as reason.10 Libido,
on the other hand, is the guilty pleasure that insinuated itself into
sexuality after the Fall and that has ever since marked fallen
human sexuality.
Augustine never seeks to repress or deny the sexual nature
of human beings. We are sexual, he says, because God made us
that way. We cannot choose between being sexual or not being
sexual. But we can choose between being rationally sexual or
irrationally sexual. Reason and grace both play a role in the
management of sexual desire. Continence, for example, is a way
of managing sexuality. It is not within our power, however, to
choose continence, which can only be achieved by grace. Still,
there are a number of rational responses to sexual desire, the
most notable of which is marriage, where libido is "used" for an
honorable and God-ordained end, i.e., propagation.11 In a
famous passage in De doctrina Christiana (I:3), Augustine distinguishes between things that are to be used (uti) and things that
are to be enjoyed (fruti). Indeed, one of Augustine's definitions
of evil is the impulse to "enjoy" what should in fact be "used."

10

David Cairns, The Image of God in Man (New York: Philosophy Library,
1953), p. 110: "In all the Christian writers up to Aquinas we find the image of God
conceived of as man's power to reason."
11
Augustine's most extended discussions of these matters are in De civitate dei,
14, and De nuptiis et consupiscentia. For a very helpful discussion of sexuality in
Augustine, see "La sexualidad en San Augustin," Augustinus Magister, 2 vols. (Paris:
tudes augustiniennes, 1954), II: 727-36. On Augustine and Montaigne, see Mary B.
McKinley, "The City of God and The City of Man: Limits of Lan-guage in
Montaigne's 'Apologie'," Romanic Review 71 (1980), 122-40; also Elaine Limbrick,
"Montaigne et Saint Augustin," Bibliothque d'Humanisme et Renais-sance 34 (1972),
49-64.

Three Latin Poems Dedicated to Montaigne

11

Warning the pleasure-prone young Montaigne of the

dangers of libidinal excesses, La Botie resorts to a vocabulary
that is rich in Augustinian resonances. By the sixteenth century,
words such as voluptas, libido, coenum, and peccatum, all carried a
rich cargo of Augustinian meaning. To such words, La Botie
adds others that point no less obviously to the Augustinian intertext: malum (252, 263, 281, a common word in Augustine for
evil), utor (231, to use) and fruor (271, enjoy), errores (121, 290,
a word Virgil used to designate young Aeneas's wanderings and
that Augustine adopted in the Confessions to designate his own
youthful delusions.)12 La Botie concludes his attack on libido
by urging Montaigne to seek the practical and "rational" solution
to sexual appetite that Augustine had sanctioned: marriage.
Not that La Botie ever refers specifically to Augustine in
the Latin satire he dedicated to Montaigne.13 He didn't need to.
He didn't even need to be aware of the extent to which
Augustine had shaped his views on sexualtiy, or the extent to
which his own vocabulary was dictated by Augustine's.
Augustine's views on human sexuality had been so thoroughly
assimilated by Christianity that, in a period as deeply Christian
as the sixteenth century, they seemed to express not any particular individual's opinion but an inevitable and self-evident truth.
La Botie's portrait of a somewhat profligate young
Montaigne who was easily tempted by Pleasure corresponds
closely to what Montaigne says about himself in the Essais. In
"Que le goust des biens et des maux dpend en bonne partie de
l'opinion que nous en avons" (I, 14), Montaigne observes that his
attitude towards money changed over the years. Looking back,
he notes that he has held three distinct views about money. For
the twenty or so years after his childhood, that is to say, roughly

12

On Augustine and Virgil, see two articles by John J. O'Meara:

"Augustine the Artist and the Aeneid," Mlanges offerts Mademoiselle Christine
Mohrmann (Utrecht: Het Spectrum, 1964), pp. 252-61, and "Virgil and
Augustine: The Roman Background to Christian Sexuality," Augustinus 13 (1968), 30726. Alluding to his two brushes with syphilis, Montaigne speaks of "des erreurs
de ma jeunesse" (III, 3, 826b, my emphasis).
13
He did, however, refer to Augustine by name elsewhere. See Estienne de la
Botie, Mmoire sur la pacification des troubles, ed. Malcolm Smith (Droz:
1983), p. 43.

12

Robert D. Cottrell

from 1548-1568, he was, according to his own account, profligate.

"[Sentant] naturellement quelque volupt payer," (I, 14, 63b),
he lived "allegrement," "gayement," and "librement." With the
death of his father in 1568, Montaigne found himself burdened
with the responsibility of managing a large estate. Abandoning
his profligate ways, he went to the other extreme. He became
secretive and wary, afraid to spend money for fear of depleting
his assets. This second period, marked by morbid frugality and
an intense desire to preserve what he already possessed, lasted
"quelques annes" (I, 4, 64b). Indeed, Montaigne moved out of
his second period and into his third period only after his Italian
trip, which he had undertaken at considerable expense.
Montaigne presents the third period as release from the fear and
anxiety that had marked the second period and as a sensible
balance between profligacy and miserliness.
It is clear that in recounting his financial history Montaigne
is talking about more than his attitude towards money. "Spending," "giving," "hoarding," "preserving," "managing," and the other
terms Montaigne uses to define his relationship with money are
all richly metaphorical. They suggest psychic states and define
Montaigne's attitudes towards the world around him during different periods of his life.
La Botie knew Montaigne during his "first" period. It may
be, of course, that what Montaigne says about his "first" period is
shaped to some degreeperhaps even to a considerable
degreeby what La Botie had said about the Montaigne he
knew. While Montaigne was writing the Essais, events and attitudes of his early years may have fallen into place through a pattern of belated (Freud's term is nachtrglich) recognition, the
"logic" of which is that of La Botie's texts.
Be that as it may, Montaigne gathered and edited La Botie's texts during what he would later call his second period,
which was marked by an impulse to preserve his capital and
secure his assets from adverse contingencies. His mind, he says,
was always on the "boyte" in which his treasure was locked up:
"Laissoy-je ma boyte chez moy, combien de soubons et pensements espineux, et, qui pis est, incommunicables. J'avois tousjours l'esprit de ce cost" (I, 14, 64b). Montaigne's choice of the

Three Latin Poems Dedicated to Montaigne

13

word "boyte" is significant, for, from the standpoint of his literary

career, the important activity of the years 1568-75 was the construction of "boxes" in which the memory first of his father and
then of La Botie could be preserved. (La Botie's name,
incidentally, was spelled variously in the sixteenth century: La
Boyt, La Boyte, La Boytie, La Boithie.)14 And it was the period
in which Montaigne began to construct the huge, ornate "boyte"
that is the Essais, a vast textual structure designed to secure and
preserve the image of his father and of La Botie, certainly, but,
more importantly, the image of himself as he wished to be
remembered.
***

La Botie's Latin poems to Montaigne have been reprinted

three times since the sixteenth century: in uvres compltes
d'Estienne de la Botie, ed. Lon Feugre (Paris: Jules Delalain,
1846); in uvres compltes d'Estienne de la Botie , ed. Paul
Bonnefon (Bordeaux: Gounouilhou, 1892); and in the Bulletin de
la Socit des Amis de Montaigne, ed. Louis Cestre, lre srie, 4
(1921), 368-80.
Two French translations of these poems have been published, one partial and the other complete. In his Causeries du
lundi (dated November 1853 and reprinted in Galerie de portraits
littraires (Paris: Garnier, 1893, pp. 1-17), Sainte-Beuve translated portions of the poems in order to illustrate the friendship
between La Botie and Montaigne. The only complete French
translation of the three poems is by Louis Cestre. It was published along with the Latin text in the Bulletin de la Socit des
Amis de Montaigne, 1re srie, 4 (1921), 351-67.
The present edition of La Botie's three poems and the
accompanying English translation (the first English translation to
appear in print) are based on a copy of the Morel edition currently in the Douglas Gordon Collection at the University of Virginia Library, Charlottesville, Virginia. The editor and translator
are grateful to the librarians in the Special Collections Department of the University of Virginia Library for their kind
assistance.

14

See Gralde Nakam, Les Essais de Montaigne: miroir et procs de leur

temps (Paris: Nizet, 1984), p. 47.

14

Robert D. Cottrell

The title page of the copy in the Gordon Collection bears

the date 1572. However, the words "Achev d'imprimer le 24 de
novembre, 1570" appear on the last page of the volume. The
year 1570 was clearly the year of the "privilge" and not the year
of publication. This particular copy may have been printed in
1572, or it may have been printed in 1571, the year Morel first
published the book in two volumes, and simply given a 1572 date,
perhaps for commercial reasons. In any case, the present edition
of the text reproduces the text of the Gordon copy except that
the spelling has been modernized in accord with the Oxford Latin
Dictionary. In order to facilitate reading, the punctuation has
been brought to current standards, notably through the clear
demarcation of the sentence endings.15 An effort has been
made, however, to respect the movement expressed by the
sixteenth-century presentation of the text. In the second poem,
line 37, the editor has maintained La Botie's ametrical line over
Feugre's emendation, while in the third poem he has retained
Feugre's correction for line 247, substituting lumine for limine.
Spelling errors of previous editions have been corrected, e.g., the
third poem, line 231, quot over quos (Feugre, Bonnefon,
Cestre); line 255, speraveris over speravis (Bonnefon), and in
Cestre, cf. lines 92, 165, and 189.
Anyone who has translated sixteenth-century Latin texts is
aware of the problems and dangers in such an undertaking. I
have tried to remain close to the text. Nevertheless, given the
difference between Latin and English, I have sometimes had to
choose between a "word for word" translation and a translation
that is no doubt less literal but also less bizarre to an English ear.
In such cases, I have opted for the English sound.
I wish to thank James S. Hirstein for his assistance and wise
counsel. Of course, I alone am responsible for whatever errors
or infelicities there may be in the translation.
Ohio State University

15

See Fred J. Nichols, "Conventions of Punctuation in Renaissance Latin

Poetry," in Acta Conventos Neo-Latini Amsteladomensis, eds. P. Tuynman, et alii
(Mnchen: Wilhelm Fink Verlag), 1979, pp. 835-50.

Poemata
tienne de La Botie

Edited by
James S. Hirstein
Translated by
Robert D. Cottrell

16

tienne de La Botie

I
Ad Belotium et Montanum

10

15

20

25

Montane, ingenii iudex aequissime nostri tuque ornat

quern prisca fides candorque, Beloti, o socii, o dulces,
gratissima cura, sodales, quae mens, qui vobis animus,
quos ira deorum
et crudelis in haec servavit tempora Parca? Nam mihi
consilii nihil est nisi, quo rapiet fors, vel ratibus vel
equis laribus migrare relictis. Hoc sequar, utilius nisi
quid vidistis uterque, si modo et exilii dabitur iam
copia. Sane
et dolet et miserum estsed stat sententialongum
extremumque vale natali dicere terrae. Vidimus
excidium. Quid adhuc calcare parentis busta iuvat?
Patriae quando nihil est opis in me, parcam oculis.
Fuerat melius vitare ruentis
quam nunc eversae conspectum, munera sed ne
paeniteat gratum praestasse novissima civem, et sese
officio pietas soletur inani. Ipsa fugam iam turn nobis
minus aequa monebant numina, cum ignotos procul
ostendere sub Austro
telluris tractus. Et vasta per aequora nautae
ingressi vacuas sedes et inania regna
viderunt solemque alium terrasque recentes
et, non haec, alio fulgentia sidera caelo.
Credibile est, cum iam crudeli perdere ferro
Europam late superi turpique pararent
deformare situ viduos cultoribus agros,
providisse novum populis fugientibus orbem.

Poemata

17

I
To Belot and Montaigne
Montaigne, you who are the most impartial judge of my character,
And you, Belot, who are endowed with the loyalty and honesty of the
ancients,
O, my comrades and dear friends, concern for you is my most pleasant task.
What do you think, what is your intent, you whom the anger of the gods 5
And cruel fate have assigned to these times?
Indeed, the only solution I have found is to abandon my home and go,
Either by ship or by horse, wherever fortune will lead me.
This I shall do, unless either of you can think of something better,
And provided that it is now still possible for me to go into exile. 10 It
is certainly painful and grievous to say a long and final farewell
To one's native land, but my decision is firm.
We have witnessed its destruction. What pleasure can there be
to trample upon the grave of the one who gave you birth?
Since I can do nothing for my country, I will spare my eyes.
It would have been better to avoid the sight of my country's collapse 15
Than to see it now in utter ruin. But may no loyal
Citizen regret having fulfilled all his responsibilities; and may
Such loyalty, even though ineffectual, be its own reward.
For a long time now the gods, being less than favorable to us,
Have themselves advised flight, as, for example, when they showed us unknown
20 Tracts of land lying far away to the south. Sailors who
Crossed the vast seas have seen unoccupied spaces and empty
Kingdoms and another sun and newly formed lands and stars which, different
From ours, shine forth in another sky.
It would seem that the gods, preparing to 25 Destroy all of Europe
with cruel steel and to disfigure the fields
With shameful neglect and deprive them of their farmers,
Provided in advance a new land for the fleeing peoples.

18

30

35

40

45

50

tienne de La Botie
Hincque sub hoc saeclum dis annitentibus alter
emersit pelago mundus. Vix lubrica primum
sustinuisse ferunt rarae vestigia gentis.
Molle solum curvum nunc ultro poscit aratrum et
nulli parens invitat gleba colonos. Hic gratis
dominum lati sine limite campi quemlibet
accipiunt ceduntque in iura colentis.
Huc, iter, huc, certum est remisque et tendere velis,
unde nec aspiciam impatiens tua funera nec te aversis
palmas tendentem, Gallia, divis. Hic sedes olim procul
a civilibus armis sortiar et modicos ignobilis advena
fines;
hic quicumque manet fessum locus (haud sine vobis o,
utinam, socii!), vix est ut pectore toto excutiam casum
patriae: quacumque sequetur prostratae facies
tristisque recurret imago. Hanc mihi non ratio curam,
non leniet aetas,
non oras longo qui dividit obice pontus.
Unum hoc sollicitus, securus caetera, rerum
exul agam certusque larem non visere, fati
opperiar leges externo in litore: seu me ante
diem rapient peregrini taedia caeli
sive diu superesse colus volet arbitra vitae.

Poemata

19

Thus, by the will of the gods, just before the beginning of the present
century Another world emerged from the sea. 30 It is said that at first
only a few people ventured forth with unsure steps
on its slippery surface; now, however, the soft Soil calls for the
curved plow, and the earth that has no owner invites
colonists. There, vast and boundless fields welcome freely the man Who
claims them. Recognizing him as their master, They submit to the laws of the
farmer. 35 That is the place I have decided to set out for, be it by oar or by sail. And
from there I shall not see (unbearable sight) your funeral, France, nor your hands
extended in supplication to the gods, who turn away
from you. There, I, an obscure foreigner, shall choose a home of modest
size And remain far from civil strife. 40 There, wherever I may find repose from my
weariness (if only you could be
with me, my companions!). I shall never be able to drive completely
from my mind the misfortune of Our country. Its face as it lies prostrate will
follow me Wherever I go, and its sad image will always haunt me. Reason will
not alleviate this sorrow; nor will age; nor will the sea which,
with its 45 Watery obstacle, separates me from my native shore. Free
from all worry save concern for my country, I shall Uve as an exile, and, certain not
to see my home, I shall await the laws of fate on a distant shore: Either weariness of
the foreign skies will snatch me away before 50 My time or the distaff of the fates,
arbiter of our lives, will grant me many
long years.

tienne de La Botie

20

II
Ad Michaelem Montanum
An te paierais passibus arduos
luctantem honesti vincere tramites, et
ipse fervidus iuventa,
ridiculus monitor, docebo?
5 Te sponte promptum, te volucri pede
iamiam coronas tollere proximum, iam
meta in extrema, pudendis exacuam
stimulis, volantem?
Et in protervos consilium valet 10 linguae
efficacis, si tamen huic fidem auctoribus
canis senecta
conciliat gravibusque rugis.
Me levis aetas discere dignior
vigorque plenus tempore non suo
15
repellit audentem monere
et viridem reicit magistrum.
Severa Virtus quam legit indolem
hanc fingit ultro; mentibus inser
nativa non suis recusat
20
et refugit sobolem profanam.
Flagris nec illam nec monitis queat
vocare doctor. Caelitus advolat et
sponte concedit videri dura viris
superare natis:

Poemata

21

II
To Michel de Montaigne
To you, who in your father's footsteps are struggling To climb the
arduous paths to virtue, Shall I, who am burning with youth
and who would look Ridiculous as a preceptor, give counsel
and advice?
5

10

You, who are naturally quick and who, with a rapid foot, Are
already close to raising the crown Of victory, shall I
urge you on Even as you are now flying through the
last turn?
Counsel from an efficacious tongue carries weight
With impetuous youths, provided that old age with grey-haired
Authority and solemn wrinkles
Gives it credibility.

But my own youthfulness, more suitable for learning than for teaching,
And the vigor of my early manhood prevent me
15
From giving untimely advice
And dissuade me from posing as an immature counselor.
Stern Virtue, alone and unaided, shapes the character
Of the person she has chosen; she refuses by nature
To mingle with those not of her choosing
20
And shuns the race of common men.
With neither whips nor threats can a schoolmaster Summon her; she
descends from the sky And consents to appear only to Those who are
born to perform arduous tasks and to conquer.

tienne de La Botie

22

25 Asopi ut illam fertilis ad vada spectasse

pubes dicitur Hercules numenque
fulgentemque vultum intrepidus
tolerasse coram.
Hinc illa stabat, parte sed altera 30 urget
Voluptas, cui madidis comae florent
odoratae coronis
et niveis humeris solutum
vagatur aurum. Purpureo genae
fovent procacem vere Cupidinem,
35
sed corpus effetum laborant
ferre pedes gracilesque surae
annisque fractae et luxu. Ast anus impudens
falsis iuventam picta coloribus
mentitur extantemque frustra
40
dissimulat medicata fucum.
Quis cultus almae, quis fuerit status
Virtuti et ori quis decor aureo, nec
tento mortalis nec ulli
fas fuerit memorare linguae.
45 "Alcida," dixit, "num Iove te satum
vulgavit error famaque mobilis
frustra? en (nefas!) iamiam labanti
degeneres oculos moratur
obscena paelex. At, puer, effuge, 50 dum
fas valenti, perfida munera quis illa nunc
demulcet aures, mox animo expositura
virus.

Poemata
25 Thus young Hercules in the shallows of the Fertile
Asopus is said to have seen her And to have
endured without fear the presence Of her divinity
and shining countenance.

30

On one bank Virtue stood. But on the

Other Pleasure beckons, her perfumed hair
Adorned with a garland of flowers and a Gold garment draped loosely
over her snowy white shoulders;

Her cheeks, glowing with spring, incite

Bold Cupid; but her feet and ankles,
35
Bony and broken with age and licence,
Can scarcely support her exhausted body.
Yet the shameless old woman, painted
With artificial colors, simulates youth;
Even though she has dyed her hair, she cannot
40
Conceal the obvious fraud.
I, a mortal, do not attempt to describe
The teaching, the argument, the grace Of
nurturing Virtue's golden speech; Nor could
any tongue describe it.
45 "Hercules," she said, "is it possible that fickle fame
Erred when she declared that you are descended
From Jove? Behold (o horror) how you hesitate,
Your unworthy eyes already fixed

50

On the lewd whore. But, youth,

While you have the strength flee the treacherous
Favors with which she now enchants your ears, for soon The
poison will penetrate your mind.

23

24

tienne de La Botie

Heu! Tanta inerti ne manus otio

languescat. Eheu! Immiserabilis
55
ne vitet addictos honores
seque suis viduet triumphis.
O quot lacertis, me duce, me duce,
debentur istis monstra! Quot urbium
cervicibus graves tyranni
60
quos superum tibi servat ira!
Haec te manet sors. Haud levibus tamen
sperare noli condicionibus, sed nulla si
navi laboris,
nulla tibi vacet hora curae.
65 Tantum labori nil Deus abnuit,
quippe nec undas ipse volubiles
terrasque pendentemque Olympum
imperio regit otioso.
Quo vitam inerti, si minimum interest 70 vivus
sepultis? Occupat is mori qui desides edormit
annos
et taciturn innumeratus aevum."

Poemata

55

60

Alas! Let not such a great hand grow weak

Through sluggish leisure. Alas! Let it not
Shun its destined honors or deprive itself
Of its triumphs.
With me, O with me guiding your muscular arm,
How many monsters are destined to perish? How many tyrants
Who oppress their subjects and whom the wrath of the
Gods leaves to you will perish at your hand?
Such then is the fate that awaits you. Do not
Hope to attain it easily, but only Through
a life that will never be free Of hard work
or care.

65 Only to those who strive does God deny

nothing; Indeed, it is not in leisure and
repose That he rules the whirling waves,
The lands, and lofty Olympus.

70

25

What good is life to someone who is slothful

If, living, he differs little from the dead?
He who lazily sleeps away the year and moves
Silently through life is more dead than alive."

26

tienne de La Botie
III
Ad Michaelem Montanum

10

15

20

25

30

Prudentum bona pars vulgo male credula nulli

fidit amicitiae nisi quam exploraverit aetas et
vario casus luctantem exercuit usu. At nos iungit
amor paulo magis annuus et qui
nil tamen ad summum reliqui sibi fecit amorem.
Forte inconsulto. Sed nec fas dicere. Nec sit,
quamvis morose, sapiens, cum noverit ambos et
studia et mores, qui nostri inquirat in annos
foederis et tanto gratus non plaudat amori.
Nec metus in celebres ne nostrum nomen amicos
invideant inferre, sinant modo fata, nepotes.
nsita ferre negat malum cerasus nec adoptat
pruna pirus; non id valeat pugnantibus usque ingeniis
nec longa dies nec vincere cura.
Arboribus mox idem aliis haud segnis adhaesit
surculus occulto naturae foedere. Iamque turgentes
coeunt oculi et communibus ambo educunt fetum
studiis. Viget advena ramus et patrium humorem
stirps laeta ministrat et ultro
migrat in externam mutato nomine gentem.
Haud dispar vis est animorum: hos nulla revinctos
tempora dissocient; hos nulla adiunxeris arte. Te,
Montane, mihi casus sociavit in omnes et natura potens et
amoris gratior illex
virtus. Illa animum spectata cupidine formae
ducit inexpletum. Nec vis praesentior ulla
conciliatque viros et pulchro incendit amore.
Ipse ego virtuti vix ulli affinis et impar
officiis, tamen hanc fugientem impensius ultro
insequor atque ubivis visam complector amoque.
At ne dedecorem vitiis quam cognita virtus
iunxit amicitiam, studio iam totus in hoc sum.

Poemata

27

III
To Michel de Montaigne
Most prudent men, who are generally rather skeptical,
Do not put much faith in friendship unless it has been tested by time,
And unless chance has subjected it to the various harsh experiences of life.
But in our case, even though we have been friends for only a little more
than a year,
5

10

15

20

25

30

Our friendship has already reached a rare degree of perfection.

Perhaps that was rash; but, not recognizing the divine origin of our
friendship,
No perceptive man, however fastidious, knowing us both
Our interests and our characterswould ever suspect that we have known
each other for so short a time;
Nor would he fail to applaud generously a love as great as ours.
Fear not; if the fates permit it, our descendents
Will not fail to place our names among those of famous friends.
Grafted, the cherry tree refuses to bear an apple, and the pear tree
Plums. By nature they are incompatible,
And no amount of time or care can overcome their resistance to
each other.
The same unfruitful cutting, grafted onto a tree of its own kind, adapts
quickly,
Obeying nature's secret laws; soon
The swelling nodes of the scion and the stock meet; with a mutual desire
to be fruitful
They nurture the new growth; the alien branch flourishes,
For the trunk supplies it with nourishing sap in abundance.
The branch strove to adapt to its new home; willingly it
Changed its name into that of the tree to which it had been grafted.
So it is with souls. Time cannot separate
Those who are joined; nor can skill alone bring about such a union.
You, Montaigne, have been bound to me once and for all
By natural instinct and a love of virtue, which is the greatest charm
Of friendship. The sight of virtue arouses in the unfulfilled soul
A desire for beauty; no other force unites men so effectively,
Nor kindles in them such a noble love.
I myself have scarcely any aptitude for virtue, and am unequal
To her high service; yet I pursue her devotedly as she ever flees,
And whenever I find her, I embrace her and love her.
So that my imperfections will not debase the friendship which virtue in her
wisdom has formed
Between us, I have now completely dedicated myself to her.

28

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

tienne de La Botie
Sed minus hic operae: bona quippe illustria mentes
angustae haud capiunt, morbos patiuntur et acres
parcius. Affligunt ita me leviora beantque
ad summa indocilem, tantum mediocribus aptum. At
tibi certamen maius, quem scimus amici nobilibus
vitiis habilem et virtutibus aeque. Sed tu iam haud
dubie meliora capessis eoque
miror victorem laetor quoque. Cedo libens nunc ipse
tibi. At virtus cum se firmaverit aevo, turn poteris (nec
fallit amor) contendere summis; tarn bona perraro
ingeniis sors contigit altis.
Aegyptus bona multa creat, mala multa venena.
Cliniadem gravis assidue cum ambiret amator, cui non
invidit sapientis nomen Apollo, quid vidisse putas?
"Puer hic aut perdet Athenas aut ornabit," ait. "Vis
emicat ignea mentis, ostentans mirum artificem
pravique bonique.
Quisqus erit, dubium virtuti adducere conor, si
valeam expugnare. Et adhuc victoria pendet.
Surgit laeta seges, sed laetior officit herba."
Ergo mature atque opera maiore valentes
inflectendi animi et multa mercede colendi.
Quod ni mox puerum monitor nutrice relicta finget et
assidue patulas purgaverit aures ante nuces et carta
priusquam oblectet hiantem picta et falsorum capiant
spectacula regum, ni melior doctrina ferum turgente
iuventa
occupat, ilicet occidit. Haud quicquam moror ultra
quin trahat ad partes docilem insidiosa voluptas et
teneat victrix fugitivum et mancipet usu.
"Men' clarum proavis et alumnum divitis aulae,
fascia lactantem quem non nisi byssina vinxit,
tot curvum insomni vexare volumina cura?

Poemata

35

40

45

50

55

60

65

29

But this alone is not sufficient; small minds

Cannot attain high excellence; they are subject to illnesses and
to weakening
Of purpose; thus, mere trifles sometimes depress and sometimes elate me;
I am incapable of the greatest things, and am suited only for the mediocre.
But as for you, you are engaged in a loftier struggle. Your friends
know that
Your errors as well as your strengths spring from greatness.
But without a doubt you have already chosen the better course,
And I am glad and rejoice that you are the victor. How I cede willingly
The race to you; but once your virtue is matured and strengthened by age,
Thenand my love does not blind meyou will be able to vie with
the greatest.
Only rarely has such good fortune been granted to men of noble spirit.
Egypt created many potions that are good, but also many that are
poisonous.
When Socrates, the austere lover to whom Apollo did not begrudge
the title of Sage,
Used to keep constant company with Alcibiades,
What do you think he noted? "This boy," he said,
"Will bring either ruin or glory to Athens. He abounds with fiery energy,
Displaying extraordinary talent for good or evil;
Which one it will be is yet unknown. At present he is vacillating
between the two, and I am trying to guide him to virtue.
O that I may succeed! Victory is still hanging in the balance.
The wheat is sprouting in abundance, but the weeds which choke it
are springing up in even greater abundance."
Therefore, great effort must be made to mold vigorous minds
Early in life, and no expense should be spared in cultivating them.
If the preceptor does not draw the boy away from the influence of his muse
And purge his mind of nonsense before he begins to play
Games, or stare in enchantment at colored illustrations
In books, or delight in the ostentatious show of impostors,
He is lost; if serious learning does not occupy the boy when he is bursting
With youthful energy, there is no hope for him. If he delays at all,
Insidious voluptuousness will entice the docile boy to follow her;
Once she has led him away, she will ensnare him triumphantly and make
him her own.
"What! I, who was born in an illustrious family and reared in the lap
of luxury,
I, who as an infant was wrapped in nothing but fine batiste,
Am I to spend sleepless nights over a pile of books?

30

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75

80

85

90

tienne de La Botie
Ignorem solus Venerem, iam grandior? Atqui
ampia domus sumptus et vires sufficit aetas. Hic
certe est, hic usus opum viridisque iuventae. Quin
etiam ridet, sed clam, mihi dulce puella:
vel cano capiti speciosa occasio culpae!"
(Talia iactanti quis iam moderetur? Acerbus si
iurgem ut patruus, frustra hunc fortassis et ipsum me
cruciem: ludam vacuus blandisque ferocem aggrediar
melius. Quod si nihil maius, at ilium
tantisper potero pronum ad peiora morari.) "O
bone, quando tibi donant peccare licenter
nobilitas et opes nec egent rectore beati, non ego
fortunae quaero praescribere nec te sperem
ausimve bonis avidum prohibere paratis.
Sed tamen haec paucis, o felix, si vacat, audi,
ferme eadem solitus parasitum audire loquentem
dulcius an saturo venari an ludere talis, haec an
sit potior, num purior illa voluptas.
Dispice nunc mecum tibi quae tu maxima fingis
gaudia, num mera sint. Specie num credita fallunt atque
intus vitiat labor et dolor inficit ater? Primum hoc: tene
pares meretrici an dedere nuptae?" "A nupta auspicium."
"Generose. Sed mala disce illaesus ventura
impendentemque laborem.
Undique mox lustrandi aditus et limine in ipso sudandum
in primis atque hinc illincque locandae insidiae. Cuiquam
ex famulis si gratia prima est, hanc observato, sic ars iubet.
Hinc miser, hinc iam

Poemata

70

75

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85

90

Now that I am old enough, shall I alone remain a stranger to Venus?

Coming from a rich family, I have plenty of money, and, being young,
I have lots of energy.
Indeed, that's how I should spend my money and my youth.
And besides, there's a pretty girl who smiles at me when no one's looking;
What a splendid occasion for sinning; even a graybeard would be tempted."
At this point, who could do anything with such a braggart? If I
reprove him
With severity, it would probably just upset both of us,
And do no good anyway. I'll just mention it jokingly, for a casual remark
Is more likely to disarm the headstrong boy. If nothing else,
I'll succeed, at least temporarily, in preventing him from slipping further
into vice.
"My friend, since your high birth and wealth permit you
To lead a life of self-indulgence, and since people as fortunate as you do
not require a guide,
I shall not attempt to tell you what to do in your present situation;
Nor would I hope or dare to forbid you a pleasure that is readily available.
But, if you have the time, o fortunate friend, listen to the few words I have
to say,
Accustomed as you are to hearing the same kind of thing from some
fast-talking sponger:
'Do you think we should go hunting,' he would say, 'or would you rather
play dice?
Perhaps you prefer the first possibility; but maybe the second is a more
refined pleasure.'
Now, examine with me those pleasures which you believe give you the
greatest
Joy, and let us try to determine whether this joy is real or illusory;
Is it marred by the toil necessary to attain it? Does it entail a measure of
bitter pain?
First of all, do you intend to devote your time to a whore or to a married
woman?"
"Let us begin by considering the married woman." "Nobly said. Learn
now of the woes that await you
You who have thus far escaped unscathedand of the toil that lies ahead
of you.
You will have to survey all the approaches to her house, devoting particular
attention
To the main access; then you must devise various
Stratagems. If among her servants there is one that your lady is especially
fond of,
Ingratiate yourself with her; this is the time-honored method. From then
on, you will be in misery;

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assuescesque iugo atque ancillabere servae.

95 Illa quid? Emunget properantem nec minus ultro
saepe avidum fallet ridens atque improba ludet.
Ventum est ad dominam, longis ambagibus illa
consumet cupidum et miserum spe ducet amantem.
Nam quae tam rudis est et amandi nescia quae non
100 calleat et torquere mora et terrere repulsa?
Turn tibi quid misero speras animi fore? Gestis
liber inexpensum gestare onus, ut phaleris et
exultant manni peregrino murice nati
servitium in longum et saevis parere lupatis.
105
Vin' tu quae nescis expertis credere? Amantum
singultus audi lamentaque. Pulpita quanto
et scenae resonant gemitu quas exprimat aegris
dira Venus voces execratusque Cupido.
Res tot nulla elegs, tragico tot nulla cothurno
110 argumenta dedit, nisi amor turbaret, ubique
luderet. Et solo comoedia luget in illo.
Cur ita? Quid sents? Nisi multo inclaruit usu
exemplisque malum atque in proscenia venit?
A Cyclope roga valeat, morbone laboret.
115 Nam certe insanit. Stulte quassat caput hirtum,
ad surdum voces iactat mare, saltat ineptus
et plorat puerile, ut cum a nutrice relictum
excitat infantem lemurum pavor. Heus, male sanum
quis te nunc, Cyclops, agitat furor?" "Haud furor," inquit,
120 "sed me vexat amor, vehemens Deus." "Hoc quoque morbum
arguit: haud sents cum te tuus urgeat error.

Poemata
From then on, you will grow accustomed to the yoke, and you will be
the slave of a serving-girl.
95 And what will she do? She will immediately set about extorting money
from you; however, she will still keep you from her mistress,
Continually frustrating your eager desire with laughter and mocking
impudence.
When finally you get to her mistress, the lady herself will exhaust
your desire
By beating around the bush and leading you onunhappy loverwith hope.
For where is the woman so inexperienced and ignorant in matters
pertaining to love
100 That she does not excel in tormenting a lover with delays, alarming him
with refusals.
Then what do you think awaits your pitiful soul? Although you are
now free,
You long to assume a burden whose weight you do not know, similar in this
to the small Gallic horses
That, prancing about with their trappings and imported purple,
Were born to bear a long life of servitude and to obey the toothed bit.
105
In matters of which you know nothing, are you willing to believe
those who are experienced? Then listen to
The sobbing and wailing of lovers; o how
The very stage itself resounds with the groans and piteous cries
That fearful Venus and accursed Cupid wrench from their victims.
Nothing provides so much material for elegies, nothing provides
so many plots
110 For tragedies as love, which, in its deceitfulness, throws everything
Into confusion; and in comedy, love provokes tears.
Why is this so? What is your explanation, if not that this evil, having
become so well known through constant contact
And through many illustrious examples, came to be acted out on stage.
Ask the Cyclops if he is in good health, or if he is suffering from some
disease.
115 He surely must be mad; he shakes his shaggy head stupidly
And bellows at the different sea; he stamps his feet ridiculously
And, like a child, weeps, as when fear of ghosts
Terrifies a small boy who has been left alone by his nurse. Say, crazed
Cyclops,
What is this madness that is stinging you?" "It is not madness at all,
120 But love, a most powerful God, that torments me." "Such an avowal only
proves that you are stricken
With a disease; you do not realize it because you are driven on by your own
delusions.

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Angit te partus vere tuus; et tamen hunc tu

caelitibus fratrem civemque ascribis Olympo.
Te falsi spes laeta boni, te inscitia veri
125 perdidit; induxit facilem exitiosa libido.
Dices: 'quid Cyclops ad rem?' Quia nil vetat, inquam,
quin de te haec olim recinatur fabula, notus
si monitum invadet furor, et derisus in illo.
Sed non agnoscis Polyphemum. Oculatior illo
130 esse paras, et amore potes sapientius uti.
Displicet ista tibi persona? Vel indue magnum,
si libet, Alcidem, quern cum inserviret amori,
stamina callosa barbatum vellere dextra
conservae risere diu; nisi vatibus est hic
135 forte neganda fides. Sed quis non peccat amator
paene eadem aut istis minimum distantia? Pendet
ex oculis totus nutuque movetur erili.
Flet, ridet dominae arbitrio gaudetque doletque.
Si placuit carae passer catulusve puellae,
140 o felix ales, quicum cubat? Haud mora, mille
sufficit in versus catulus passerque loquaci
stultitiae. Dic iam: muliebre est carpere pensa?
Quid? Sic nugari qualem decet? Anne putamus
haec magis esse viri? Verumtamen hoc quoque quaeram:
145 qua delirabis mercede? Et quae maneant te
turpis servitii et lacrimosi praemia belli?
Si perstas longum patiens tolerare laborem,
si facere et donare nihil pudet et piget, euge!:
tandem magnanimus thalamum expugnabis adulter
150 et iunges niveo lateri latus. Hoc quoties et
quanto commodius fecit nulloque periclo
verna prior? Quamvis et pinguis pane secundo
increvit stabulis et pulvere sordet equino,
libavit spes ille tuas dominaeque pudorem.

Poemata

125

130

135

140

145

150

The offspring you have produced makes you suffer; and yet
You consider him a brother of Heaven's inhabitants and reckon him
a citizen of Olympus.
Your hope in an illusory happiness and your ignorance of the truth
Have been your downfall; submissive by nature, you have been lead astray
by a fatal passion.
'But,' you protest, 'what does the Cyclops have to do with me?' My answer
is that there is nothing to prevent
His story from becoming yours if the notorious
And ludicrous fury that is agitating him should one day, and despite my
admonitions, get the better of you.
But you do not recognize yourself in Polyphemus; you intend
To be keener-eyed than he, and think you will be able to enjoy love more
wisely than he.
Does comparison with such a character offend you? Then, if you
prefer,
Play the part of great Hercules, who, when he was enslaved by love,
Had to endure the mockery of fellow slaves, all of whom were women, as
he, the bearded hero, sat spinning cloth
With his calloused handsif, that is, we can believe
The stories of poets. But what lover is not guilty of something similar,
Or at least of something equally foolish. He reads his fate
In his lady's eyes, and obeys her every nod;
At her command, he weeps, he laughs, he rejoices, he grieves.
If the beloved has a sparrow or a little dog she is particularly fond of,
Then, O happy bird, who sleeps in her chamber! Immediately,
The little dog and the sparrow provide enough poetic conceits
For a thousand verses. Now tell me, is carding wool woman's work?
What? How is that? Is it fitting for a man like Hercules to engage in such
trivial activity?
Is there not better work for a man? But let me ask this also:
What is your folly going to cost you? And what do you expect to gain
From your shameful servitude and tender suffering?
If you continue to endure with patience such trials and tribulations,
If it does not at all shame and grieve you to behave in this way and to
neglect all other pursuits,
Well then, fine. At last, you, the brave adulterer, will take the master
bedroom by storm.
You will press your flesh to her snow-white body. But how much
more often,
And with greater ease and safety, has not a house slave
Done the same thing? Although he has grown fat on coarse bread
And is filthy with horse manure from the stables,
He has uncorked the bottle of your hopes and overcome the lady's modest)

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155 Et merito. Nutum quippe opportunus ad omnem. Nam

cur se, censes, tibi subdidit? An quia bellus atque dicax?
Nimium hoc etiam vix ultima causa est. Cur etenim
temnatque Deos famamque virumque secura extremo
quid carmine iura minentur
160 Iulia? Cur, censes, nisi quod furiosa libido
aestuet impurusque intus desaeviat ardor? Hunc
tu an fervidius solatur durus agaso? Ergo
consortem temerati admittere lecti ne querere et
partes post Davum ferre secundas.
165 Iure fit et tritum est. Tantum hoc tibi discrepat ille, quod
penus in promptu est quodque intra limina plenus nauseat
et cura vacuum praesens Venus explet aut onerat magis.
Interea tu tempora servas pervigil et captas si qua cardo
strepat et num
170 exoratus hiet postis, licet ingruat imber
verberet et grando fatuum caput. Et modo falli
clamas, mox speras placatus et anxius instas
pactae momentis tarde labentibus horae.
Praelucens illinc longe puer excubat; hinc tu
175 isque redisque avidus. Subsannat servulus ipse et
vix compescit subolens vicinia risum.
Mitto quot admissum maneant incommoda: cum vir
improvisus adest, seu casu, seu mala tentat suspicio.
Praeceps noti si denegat usum
180 postici reditus, quod restat, conscia nutrix
includet cumera aut pavidum et spirare timentem
quadrupedem angusta componet fervida capsa. Hic
captus tineis sorex luctabere. Quid si 'in capsa est,
uxor, guttus quem quaerimus,' audis?

Poemata
155 And with good reason, for he was there at her beck and call.
Indeed, why, in your opinion, did she submit to your desires? Because you
are handsome
And witty? Hardly. In any case, these would come last in a list of reasons.
Why, indeed, would she scorn with a light heart the gods, her husband,
And the menacing sanctions contained in the final article
160 Of the Julian laws? What is your explanation, if not that a raging lust
Boils up in her, and an impure passion consumes her?
Who might more appropriately satisfy such a vile desire, you or a muscular
stableboy?
And so, do not complain that you must share the defiled bed,
And that you must come second, only after a Davus.
165 This is the way it usually is, and rightly so. A house slave has an advantage
over you
In that the dainty morsel is always before him; when he is sated, he vomits
it all up
In the protection of four walls. Venus, who is readily accessible, satisfies
his lust with no danger to him,
Or rather gives him more than he wants. Meanwhile, you spend all night
On watch, waiting for the door hinge to creak,
170 Waiting to see if the door will open in answer to your prayers; and all the
while, the rain beats down,
And hail batters your foolish head. All you can do is proclaim
That you have been deceived; then you calm down and begin to hope
again. The minutes move slowly
As you wait anxiously for the hour of your rendezvous.
On one side of the door, a boy with a light keeps watch for long hours; on
the other side,
175 You pace back and forth impatiently. The little servant snickers to himself,
And the whole neighborhood, sniffing out the truth, can scarely contain its
laughter.
I pass over the mishaps that await you once you have been admitted,
when the husband,
Either by accident or by design, walks in
Unexpectedly. If it is impossible to make a getaway through a backdoor
180 You know about, then all you can do is have a complicitous nurse
Hide you in a basket or shut you up in a small chest,
Where, terrified, crouching on all fours, you will be afraid even to breathe.
Trapped like a shrew-mouse, you will have to fight off the moths. What if
You hear the husband say: 'Wife, I think that the flask we've been looking
for must be in that chest.'

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185 Expectans trepidus raphanos, vel forsitan optans,

iustius extentum ne saeva novacula moechum
eviret, et reliquis caveat prositque maritis. Nec
tamen idcirco, si qua fortuna reducet incolumem,
sapies. Tantum hoc valuere pericia,
190 quod strepitum ad quemcumque tremens et pallidus intras
expectans dum te castigent verbera. Vivis iam bis iamque
iterum fortunae munere. Tandem vive tuo! Quid adhuc
respectas? Alligat esca, atque a vermculo numquam
exterrebere donec
195 praeda vorax toties elusis pendeat hamis.
Ergo age! Nilne movent tot tantaque? Sentio: tecum
iamdudum fremis et tibi mens immurmurat intus:
Postquam me prohibes matronam tangere, saltern, quod
superest unum, scortabor, te duce. Mene?
200 Quaere ahum. Non his ego sum, ne dixeris, auctor.
Non ego te vetitae abductum de limine nuptae
invitem lustro aut quaeram intrusisse popinae. Non
modo vix dirae servatum ex ore leaenae sustineam
abiecisse lupae. Cur dicta maligne
205 in peius rapis? Officiunt nil nomina, sed res. Tu
mala desultim te iactas in nova: dextrum ut
expedias si forte pedem, gravet inde sinistrum
alta palus. Recidens caeno immerseris eodem.
Quid? Nisi moecharis, scortari tene necesse est?
210 Anne tibi nisi turpe placet nihil? Usque adeone
et prurit sola et iuvat interdicta voluptas?

Poemata
185 There you are trembling, expecting the radish, perhaps even wishing for it
In the hopes of avoiding being stretched out under the cruel emasculatory
razora punishment rightfully inflicted
On adulterers for the protection and benefit of husbands.
Even if you have the good fortune to escape unharmed,
You will not have grown any wiser. The only thing you will have learned
from your narrow escape
190 Is that when you enter your lady's house, pale and quaking at the slightest
noise,
You must expect to be punished with the whip. Twice
Your life has been spared; twice fortune has saved you. Now the time has
come for you
To save yourself. Why are you still holding back? The bait lures you;
Never will you fear the worm until,
195 As victim of your own voracity, you find yourself dangling from
the fish-hook you have so often eluded.
Come now, will no danger however great and imminent bring you
to your senses? I noticed
That you became restless some time ago; you are probably saying
to yourself:
Now that you forbid me from touching a married woman, I can at least
Since only one possibility remainsgo whoring and you'll show me the way.
Me?
200 Look for someone else. I wouldn't approve of that. Don't even mention it.
After leading you away from the doorstep of a married woman, after
preventing you from seeing her,
I shall certainly not invite you into a brothel or try to entice you
into a tavern.
I would hardly have gone to the trouble of saving you from the jaws
of a dreadful lioness
Only to throw you to a she-wolf. Why do you maliciously twist
205 What I have said into something worse. It is not words, such as 'married
woman' or 'prostitute,' that are harmful, but acts.
You're jumping from one evil right into another;
Even if you manage to extricate your right foot, your left foot slips into
A deep bog, and soon you will immerse yourself again in the same filth.
What! Just because you are not an adulterer must you be a whore-monger?
210 Do you like only what is base? Does nothing
But forbidden pleasure attract and delight you?

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Cum te iura vocent ad iusti foedera lecti,

invitet natura parens et praemia ponat
liberacum primis et duri pura laboris
215 gaudia, turn dulces, gratissima pignora, natos, tu
tamen his demens quaeris peccare relictis,
legibus infensus naturae disque tibique.
Si moechae desunt, insanis Thaide. Cur hoc? Cur nisi
quod vetitum est, nisi quod re dulcior ipsa est
220 culpa tibi gratumque nihil sine crimine nosti?"
"Coniugis at durum est et blandum nomen amicae."
"Coniugis? Et cuius? Propriae tantummodo. Namque cum
peccas, aliena tibi non displicet uxor. Stulte foris dominam,
modo quae sit adultera, perfers;
225 ferre domi sociam fugis et solennia certi
iura tori. Verum haec alias. Nunc quaerere pergo quid
moechae praestet meretrix. Si paucula demas (et fortuna
eadem et ratio est communis amandi), par labor et
studium, nihiloque remissior aestus.
230 Fama premit gravior, cum limen perditus intras
omnibus et vappis tritum et nebulonibus et quot
traducit tonstrina loquax furnusque nepotes. Iam
quotus haud nupta levius meretricibus ardet?
Rarior haec ut sit, meretrix est doctior. Usus
235 plus habet et locat insidias instructius. Angit callidius
curasque ciet mollitque calentem et regit et multa
veteratrix temperat arte. Quin ubi te indueris sponte arcta
in vincula, quaeres qua propriam efficias. Nihilo sapientior
ac si
240 praecipuum Libyci quisquam maris arroget usum. Atqui
nec metus hic sua nec discrimina desunt. Cui praebebit
enim securum perfida somnum et famosa domus nullique
patens nisi qui rem perdidit ingluvie aut festinat perdere?
Quid iam

Poemata
Although the laws encourage you to accept the solemn bond of a legitimate
marriage bed,
As does mother nature, whose greater rewards
Are free (foremost among them being the pure joys of hard
215 Work and then, better yet, loving children, the most pleasant pledge
of marriage),
You, nevertheless, are mad enough to abandon all that and to offend
The laws of nature, the gods, and yourself.
If adulteresses are not available, then you pant for Thas. And why?
Why, if not that you desire what is forbidden, if not that crime is sweeter
to you
220 Than the act itself, and that nothing is pleasurable to you unless it contains
an element of vice?"
"But the word wife is harsh, and the word mistress, charming."
"Wife? Whose? Only your own. For,
When you sin, you do not find another man's wife displeasing.
Foolishly, you let yourself be dominated by the wife of another, provided
that she be an adulteress;
225 You avoid putting up with a companion at home, and flee the solemn vows
Of lawful marriage. But more on this later. Now I should like to continue
by asking
Just how a prostitute is preferable to an adulteress. There is very little
difference
In loving one or the othersame situation, same method,
Same ordeal, same zeal, same anxiety.
230 Your reputation suffers grievously when, wallowing in debauchery, you pass
through a door
Familiar to all the good-for-nothings and lazy rascals who
Come over from gossipy barber shops and bakeries.
How many men desire equally married women and whores?
The adulteress might be rarer, but the whore is more skilled; she has
had more
235 Experience and sets her traps more expertly; she is better
At riveting the yoke; she causes turmoil and assuages desire;
The crafty girl commands and governs with consummate art.
What's more, once you have yourself attached the tightly fastened chains,
you will ask
How you can make her your very own, a desire just as foolish
240 As wishing to appropriate the Mediterranean Sea for your exclusive use.
Moreover, such a relationship is not free from fears and perils.
For who will be granted a peaceful sleep in such a perfidious
And notorious house, where the only people admitted are those
Who, through intemperance, have lost their fortune or are rapidly
doing so?

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245 enumerem quoties rivalis rixa quibusque

grande malum dederit? Luit hic pede caesus; at illum
semianimem pueri referunt. Hic lumine laevo
excussus redit; huic redeunti in limine guttur
praerepta pro nocte furens transfixit amator.
250 Persaepe offensi levius doluere mariti.
Edit et hic monumenta sui Venus, edit et illic.
Adde malum quo nec gravius nec certius ullum:
nota lues, Italis si credis, Gallica. Sed nos et
nomenque et rem Italiae concedimus aequi.
255 Huius nulla quidem fuga, ne speraveris. Unum
hoc age: te ut redimas mnimo. Primumque podagra
si potes; hoc parvum est. Seu mavis ulcere putri aut
pedis aut surae aut oculis nasove pacisci. Quippe haec
haud raro concurrunt omnia, felix
260 cui tantum alterutrum restaverit. Et tamen, ut sic
quacumque effugias, alte succinctus inunctum
torrebit flammis medicus penitusque requiret
igne mali latebras. Nequiquam. Nam modo pelle
exuta, erumpes serpens novus. Altera saxa
265 quaeres rursus ubi impingas, quia taetrior haeret
quae nec cum scabie queat exudare libido.
Haec cum sint, graviora etiam, quae dicere longum est,
perpetienda tibi. Confer iam dulcia: quam non et levis et parva
est et denique nulla voluptas?
270 Quantulum in hac suave est quod poscimus? Interit una
exoriens. Dicto citius fugitiva fruentem deserit. Eripuit
sensum volucris fuga. Certe aut fuit aut veniet: nihil est
praesentis in ilia.

Poemata
245 Need I enumerate the frequent brawls between rivals who seriously
Injure each other? One of them pays with a crushed foot; another
Is carried out half-dead by his servants; a third leaves with his left eye
Gouged out; and still another returns home where, on his own doorstep, he
gets his throat slit
By his wife's lover, enraged at being deprived of a night's pleasure.
250 Very often, offended husbands are less resentful than offended lovers.
Venus leaves marks on those who frequent prostitutes just as surely as
she does on those who play around with married women.
Add to this an evil that has no equal in severity and power, namely,
The notorious plague that Italians call the French disease.
We can just as fairly concede both the name and the disease to Italy.
255 From this evil there is indeed no escape; do not expect to find one; the only
thing you can hope for
Is to get off as lightly as possible; first, with just the gout,
If you can; it is relatively harmless. Or you might prefer settling for
A purulent ulcer on your foot, leg, eyes or nose.
In fact, it is not rare for all these afflictions to assault a victim
simultaneously. Happy is he
260 Who has gotten away with only one of the possible afflictions. But, by
whatever means
You might escape, you will still have to consult a highly skilled doctor,
Who will apply an ointment to the infected area and then cauterize it,
probing deeply into your body
As he tries to burn out the secret retreats of the evil. Wasted effort. Like
the snake who has just molted,
You, your skin stripped off, will emerge a new serpent. You will look for
265 Another rock where you can rub your skin off, for loathsome desire sticks
to you
And you cannot sweat it out with the scabs.
This is what you would have to endure, or even worse, which would
take too long to relate, but which you would have to endure for
the rest of your life.
Now compare the suffering with the pleasure. How trifling,
Slight, and ultimately insignificant is carnal pleasure!
270 How little of that delight we yearn for are we able to find in this kind of
pleasure! It dies at the very moment
It begins. Faster than it takes to say it, carnal pleasure, like a fugitive, flees
from him
Who has enjoyed it; this swift flight puts an end to enjoyment. Certainly
Such pleasure exists in the past or in the future; but no part of it exists in
the present.

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Ante, labor, post haec, fastidia. Mox redit idem

275 indomitus furor atque iterumque iterumque recurrit, irritus
allatratque epulis et pabula nota appetit, illectus vanis et
imagine falsa.
Nam quae titillant tarn momentanea sensus
tamque exili animum perfundunt rore? Quid illa
280 nos facimus tanti? Contra, qui plurimus ambit et
circumvallat late dolor altus et acres infigit
morsus, hunc temnimus. Et mala laevi
dissimulamus vixque etiam sentire fatemur.
Morbus, ne dubita, morbus. Cui foetida olebunt
285 suaviter aut dulcem referent apsinthia succum, hic
num sanus erit? Ni fallor, non magis ac cui nil
dulce est. Neuter gratis discernit amara et
peccant ambo pariter, sed dispare morbo affectis
stomachis et desipiente palato.
290 Quo magis erroris quem nos asciscimus ipsi. Naturam,
immemores nati, causamur inique, tamquam nos aliquam
in fraudem pellexerit. Atqui ingenitam si vim sequimur,
studiosius illa vitat quae laedunt quam delectantia curat.
295 Nec sic laetitia, quamquam est cumulata, movemur, ut vel
tristitia mediocri offendimur. Urit in cute vix summa
violatum plagula corpus, quando valere nihil quemquam
movet. Hoc iuvat unum quod me non torquet latus aut pes.
Caetera quisquam
300 vix queat et sanum sese et sentire valentem."
"Unde igitur miseris iucunde vivere? Quidve
constanter pureque dabit gaudere? Nihilne est tristia
quod vitae permixtum condiat?" "Immo Virtus,
deliciae verae, Charis ipsa, merum mel,
305 sed tantum sapienti, ex sese qui sine fuco
introrsus verum diiudicat et neque vulgi rem
mandare fabis nec caecae sustinet urnae.

Poemata
Beforehand, it requires effort; afterwards, there is nothing but
disgust. Soon the
275 Same fierce rage returns. Vainly it comes back again
And again. It barks for satisfaction of its hunger and tries to seize
Its usual morsel, enticed by deceptive allurements and a false appearance.
Why do we attach so much importance to things
That, for a brief moment, titilate the senses or moisten the soul
280 With such scant dew? On the other hand, why do we scorn as unimportant
The senseless suffering that surrounds and assaults us from all sides,
sinking
Its cruel teeth into us? Why do we willingly disguise
Evil, scarcely acknowledging that we even feel it?
Have no doubt, this is a disease. Is he in good health
285 Who thinks that fetid matter has a lovely smell, or that wormwood
Has a sweet taste? Unless I am greatly mistaken, no more so than he
Who finds nothing sweet. Neither can discern what is sweet from what
is sour.
Both are equally wrong, but their stomachs are affected
By different illnesses, and their tastes are depraved.
290 Unjustly, we accuse nature of the errors
That we ourselves, like spoiled children, have committed,
As if she had lured us into a trap;
Let us heed the instincts nature has given us, for she avoids
Pain even more zealously than she seeks pleasure.
295 We are less moved by joy, however intense,
Than by sadness, however moderate. A slight cut
On the surface of the skin causes a searing pain,
Whereas good health provokes no reaction at all in us. The only
pleasure I get
From good health is from the fact that neither my side nor my foot is
hurting;
300 Otherwise we are hardly conscious of being healthy and vigorous.
How then can wretched humans live happily? Can anything
Provide them with a joy that is constant and pure? Is there nothing
That can be mixed with life's sorrows to mitigate them? Yes, for
Virtue, the true pleasure, a Grace, pure honey,
305 Exists, but only for the wise man, who is not deceived
when he looks into himself and
Discerns an inner truth that, however, he cannot bear to entrust
To the decision of the crowd or to the voting urn.

45

46

tienne de La Botie

Aut nihil est felix usquam aut praestare beatum

sola potest virtus. Sola haec quo gaudeat in se
310 semper habet: bene praeteriti sibi conscia, sorti
quaecumque est praesenti aequa et secura futurae.
Indiga nullius, sibi tota innititur. Extra
nil cupit aut metuit, nullo violabilis ictu.
Sublimis, recta et stabilis, seu pauperiem seu
315 exilium mortemve vehit currens rota. Rerum
insanos spectat media atque immobilis aestus.
Huc atque huc fortuna furens ruit. Illa suis se
exercet laeta officiis, secum bona vere
tuta fruens ipsoque sui fit ditior usu."
320
O mihi si liceat tantos decerpere fructus,
si liceat, Montane, tibi! Experiamur uterque.
Quod ni habitis potiemur, at immoriamur habendis!

Poemata
Either there is no such thing as happiness, or virtue alone is able
To make us happy. She alone possesses what is necessary
310 For happiness. She is conscious of an honorable past, capable
Of handling whatever might arise in the present, and confident of
the future.
Needing nothing, she depends wholly upon herself;
She neither desires nor fears anything. Inviolable,
Sublime, erect, and steadfast when the turning wheel of fortune
315 Plunges her into poverty, exile, or death, she observes
With indifference and serenity the violent confusion of all things.
Fortune rushes wildly this way and that; virtue happily
Performs those duties she has willingly assumed, enjoying
The Good in all security and enriching herself through constant contact
with it."
320
O that I may gather such fruit,
And may you also, Montaigne! Let both of us try.
If we are not able to reach it now, may we at least die in the attempt.

47

La Botie's Neo-Latin Satire

James S. Hirstein1
tienne de La Botie's poem 20 of 322 dactylic hexameter
lines is the longest of the twenty-eight published by Montaigne in
1571 and 1572.2 It is dedicated to Montaigne, as are poems 1
and 3, and was composed in either 1558 or 1559.3 Montaigne
very appropriately styles the piece a "satyre."4 Our purpose is to
describe and interpret its essential parts.
In their verse, satirists characteristically display relaxed
structure, abrupt transitions, and dialogues spoken by imaginary

I wish to thank those who have helped me: Robert Cottrell, Mary McKinley, Richard White, John Miller, Jenny Clay, David Kovacs and Mark Morford. I
have greatly benefited from their kind advice.
2
The collection begins: Mesnagerie de Xenophon..., Paris: Federic Morel,
1572 ( U. of Va., Alderman Lib., Special Collections, Gordon Bequest, 185,
"privilge": Oct. 18, 1570; "achev d'imprimer" [f. 131 r0]: Nov. 24, 1570). More
complete or recent editions of La Botie: Lon Feugre, ed., uvres Compltes
..., Paris: Jules Delalain, 1846; Paul Bonnefon, ed., uvres Compltes..., Bor
deaux: G. Gounouilhou, 1892; Malcolm Smith, ed., Memoire sur la pacification
des troubles, Genve: Droz, 1983, and Idem, De la servitude volontaire..., Genve:
Droz, 1987. See Cottrell and Hirstein in this issue of Montaigne Studies for a
translation and edition of poems 1, 3 and 20.
3
La Botie writes in line 4 that he and Montaigne have been friends for
slightly more than a year. Their first meeting took place in either 1557 or 1558.
4
Montaigne, Essais, I, 28 (Thibaudet and Rat: "T-R"), p. 187; his exact
words: "une satyre latine excellente." To be more specific, one might add that
diatribe, as an element of satire, is also present. Cf. La Botie's exhortations to
virtue: lines 191-195, 196-240, 267-322.

La Botie's Neo-Latin Satire

49

interlocutors,5 as is the case here. La Botie's decision to write

satireto follow its rules and to imitate its major practitionersraises a question when one interprets his poem. How much
is the dedicatee, Montaigne, whom La Botie apostrophizes at
both the beginning (23) and the end (321) of the piece, concerned by what is said? That is, has La Botie kindly dedicated
to Montaigne a lengthy exercice de style of which the subject was
arbitrarily chosen, or has he used satire as a vehicule for making
important personal remarks to him?6 Generally speaking, the
laws of the genre make it difficult to give a definite answer.7
However, following our predecessors,8 we have tended to err
on the side of an interpretation which allows that La Botie's
literary choices were made with Montaigne in mind. The
beginning of the poem supports this, in that La Botie speaks
concretely and precisely of their friendship, a fact which is
acknowledged later by Montaigne.9 Then, it is clear that La Botie's mastery of the pertinent ancient authors was such that he
was able to express himself freely and naturally through them.10
He could thus subordinate their words and ideas entirely to the

5
For a useful discussion of satire, see M. Morford, Persius, Boston: Twayne
Publishers, 1984, pp. 13-22.
6
Much the same question has been asked concerning the seriousness, or
sincerity, of La Botie's De la servitude volontaire. Cf. Sainte-Beuve's discussion to
which we refer here and below because of his useful comments on La Botie's satire,
Causeries du lundi', 3rd ed., vol. 9, Paris: Gamier Frres, 1857, pp. 147-150 and 152
and see Smith's introduction, op. cit.
7

For an interesting discussion, and criticism, of the "biographical interpretation" of satire, see Cynthia S. Dessen, Iunctura Callidus Acri: A Study of Per-sius'
Satires, Urbana, Chicago and London: University of Illinois Press, 1968, pp. 6-10. The
question of the author's sincerity or involvement can be very vexing when one
realizes that the "I" of the text may be that of a persona (cf. Rabelais' "Alcofrybas"
and Erasmus' "Folly").
8
9

Sainte-Beuve, op. cit., pp. 153-154.

Essais, I, 28, T-R, p. 187.

La Botie had a very strong background and a scholarly interest in ancient
literature; see Bonnefon, op. cit., pp. xiv-xv and pp. 407-418. Among his works
published by Montaigne, translations from Greek predominate. As for Latin, see, in
addition to this article, Smith's notes for De la servitude volontaire, op. cit..
10

50

James S. Hirstein

expression of his own concerns, giving personal unity to his

work.11
The poem has three parts: an introduction characterized by
agricultural imagery (1-52); a long central section concerning the
moral education of a certain puer (53-266) and a philosophical
conclusion (267-322) embracing most of the intertwined themes
of the poem: friendship, virtue, the sensible channeling of sexual
desire, mental and physical health, and Stoicism.
Both Horace (Satires, 1.2; 2.3 and 2.7) and Persius (Satires 3
and 5) exert an important influence on the themes and structure
of the poem. In its emphasis on the relationship between a
teacher and a student, the first part may recall in a very general
way the first half of Persius 3, Socrates and Alcibiades in Persius
4, and Persius and Cornutus in Persius 5. In the central section
La Botie has very much in mind Horace's remarks on the madness brought about by love (5. 2.3), the dangers of adultery (S.
2.7), and the pros and cons of visiting matrons and courtisans (S.
1.2). Finally, he must have taken inspiration from the end of
Persius 3 for the last section, through the references to sickness
and Stoicism. One may say that while there are a great many
verbal or conceptual echoes of Horace, La Botie's seriousness
concerning Stoicism reflects more Persius. In addition to these
authors, notably present in the body of the poem are, on the one
hand, Cicero in the De Amicitia, and, on the other, didactic poets:
Lucretius, Virgil in the Georgias, and Ovid in the Ars amatoria.
We will refer to La Botie's sources, when appropriate, in order
to see how he recasts them to his own use.12
La Botie opens the poem (1-9) by discussing friendship:
Prudentum bona pars vulgo male credula nulli
fidit amicitiae nisi quant exploraverit aetas et
vario casus luctantem exercuit usu. At nos iungit
amor paulo magis annuus et qui

11

He seems in fact to compose through the association of key words and

ideas, bringing to bear the contributions of diverse authors on the subject in question. He then "remembers" them in a very unobstrusive and organic way, rarely
borrowing more than one or two exact words. Cf. Feugre's remarks, op. cit., p.
393, n. 4.
12
See Feugre, op. cit., whom we often supplement, for a more extensive
list of sources.

La Botie's Neo-Latin Satire

51

nil tomen ad summum reliqui sibi fecit amorem.

Forte inconsulto. Sed nec fas dicere. Nec sit,
quamvis morose, sapiens, cum noverit ambos et
studia et mores, qui nostri inquirat in annos
foederis et tanto gratus non plaudat amori.
Most prudent men, distrusting what is facile, have no confidence in a
friendship unless time has tested it, putting it through many a trial as it
confronts chance. Yet we are joined by a love of little more than a year,
which, however, has spared nothing in moving to the highest point of
friendship. Perhaps this has been done unadvisedly. But it would not be
right to say this. Nor could there be any sapiens, however difficult he
might be, who, knowing both of us, our interests, and our characters,
would question the length of time of our friendship and not gladly
applaud such a great love. (Translations are mine.)

These lines recall Cicero's De Amicitia. Indeed, although Cicero

criticizes the unfeeling, overly abstract and pedantic, Greek, Stoic
sapientes,13 especially when they presume to judge friendship, he
wholeheartedly accepts the Stoic premise that a shared concern
with virtue is the only lasting bond between individuals.14 La
Botie wishes to address the same questions in what follows.
Alluding to Cicero's criticism of the overdemanding sapiens,15 he
humorously, as it seems here, says that not even the most finicky
sage, knowing them and their common interests, would fail to
applaud his friendship with Montaigne.
In the second subsection (12-20), La Botie begins a striking
agricultural simile:
nsita ferre negat malum cerasus nec adoptat pruna
pirus; non id valeat pugnantibus usque ingeniis nec
longa dies nec vincere cura. Arboribus mox idem
aliis haud segnis adhaesit surculus occulto naturae
foedere. Iamque turgentes coeunt oculi et
communibus ambo educunt fetum studiis. Viget
advena ramus etpatrium humorem stirps laeta
ministrat et ultro migrat in extemam mutato nomine
gentem.

13

De Amicitia: "Unfeeling" 10, esp. 48; "overly abstract and pedantic" 18,
38; "Greek" 17, 45. In criticizing the Greek Stoic model, Cicero seeks to promote
a more practical, civic-minded, Roman example of the sapiens and of friendship,
cf. 9-10, 18, 21, 28..
14

Cf. Ibid., 18, 20, 28, 48, 100.

15

See De Amicitia, 10.

52

James S. Hirstein
Grafted, the cherry tree refuses to bear an apple and the pear tree
does not accept plums. Neither time nor care would be able to overcome this while the basic characters of the trees continually fight
against it. But then, on other trees, the same vigorous scion has taken,
by means of a hidden accord of nature. Now the swelling nodes [of
the scion and the stock] unite and together nurture a new growth
through their mutual interests. The newcomer branch thrives, its fertile stem distributes the sap from the stock, and with no prompting it
has migrated to a foreign race and changed its name.

While La Botie's diction echoes that of Virgil in the Georgias,16

the organization of the image seems to be his alone (although
Seneca may in part be his inspiration for comparing friendship
and grafting).17
Once the abrupt transition has been assimilated, it becomes
clear that the description of failed and successful graftings is to
be compared to the friendship of La Botie and Montaigne. Its
location between the initial consideration of their friendship and
the apostrophe to Montaigne assures this. The simile functions
on a very subtle, almost tenuous distinction between ingenium
and an occultum naturae foedus. While some grafts are futile
because they run counter to the character of the plants
(pugnantibus usque/ingeniis), the same "energetic" ("haud segnis")
scion is nevertheless able to adhere successfully to "other trees."
Given the context, these other trees must be, as were the cherry
and apple and pear and plum, of another family. Indeed, in the
Lucretian-like phrase: occulto naturae foedere,18 La Botie
intimates that this graft, against all odds, "takes" thanks to a "hidden accord of nature."19

16

Cf. in general, Georgics 2, 9-34 and 47-82 and, more specifically, La Botie 12-14 and Virgil 2.32-34; L.B. 14 and V. 2.80; L.B. 15-16 and V. 2.47-52; and
L.B. 18-20 and V. 2.80-82.
17
In Epistulae, 112, Seneca uses a friendship-grafting simile and employs
surculus in the same way. The context is that of friendship and a graft which will
not work or "take."
18

Cf. Lucretius De return natura, 1.586, 2.302, 5.310.

La Botie may also have in mind an attraction which can be expressed in
Latin by commendatio or conciliatio (for Greek oikeiosis). Cf. Cicero, Definibus,
3.16 ss and 62-68 and Seneca, Ep. 121 and see S. G. Pembroke, "Oikeiosis," in
Problems in Stoicism, ed. A. A. Long, London: University of London, Athlone
Press, 1971, pp. 120-122.
19

La Botie's Neo-Latin Satire

53

Ingenium must be taken to mean "character," but character

which is not necessarily absolute, which can be changed or overcome, while the occultum naturae foedus seems to represent one's
absolute, permanent self, be it given by a superior outside force
("Nature") or derived from one's innermost source. This
explanation is somewhat problematic because ingenium, "that
which is inborn" is little removed from the idea of natura, "that
which exists naturally in someone."20 However, explaining satisfactorily what attracts one person to another is difficult. Consider the solution adopted by Montaigne in the case of his friendship with La Botie: "Par ce que c'estoit luy; par ce que c'estoit
moy."21
From La Botie's point of view, then, this friendship has
overcome great odds in order to survive. Despite differences in
character, he and Montaigne have been united by an occultum
naturae foedus. He insists, as a precaution, that such a union can
be sincere and lasting because, in what follows, he is going to
criticize his friend and perhaps jeopardize their friendship.
Like Virgil in the Georgics,22 La Botie uses human terms to
describe plants (ingnus, segnis, studiis, migrat, gentem, etc.). In
personalizing the grafting, La Botie links this second section to
the first. In both, one finds forms of ambo (7, 17), studium (8,
18) and foedus (9, 16), in addition to references to "time": aetas
(2) and longa dies (14).
The simile is completed in the third section: "the vital force
of souls is not at all different (21)," and strengthened through
vocabulary describing the nature or the results of strong bonds
(revinctos, dissocient, adiunxeris and sociavit)23 As he finally
addresses Montaigne (23), La Botie makes an important transition. Both "powerful nature" (natura potens) and "virtue, the
most pleasing lure of friendship" (amoris gratior illex virtus) unite

20
See De la servitude volontaire, ed. Smith, p. 47, for an interesting
reference to nature and grafting.
21
Essais, De l'amiti, I, 28, T-R, p. 187.
22
Cf. Georgics, 2, 23-24 and 82 and see Richard F. Thomas, Virgil:
Georgics, vol. I, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988, ad loc.
23
Cf. the language of Montaigne on this topic, De l'amiti, I, 28, T-R, p.
186.

54

James S. Hirstein

the two men. In the first two sections, only natura potens
(notably its occultum foedus) was concerned; now a major theme
of the rest of the poem appears: virtus.
At the risk of spoiling the poetry of the simile, one wonders,
of La Botie and Montaigne, who the "stock" is and who the
"scion" is. It seems that it is Montaigne who would adapt to the
ways of La Botie.24 Indeed, from his neo-latin poem 3, which
displays many similarities with 20, one concludes that La Botie,
slightly older (three years) than Montaigne, was supposed to be,
in one form or another, his friend's "teacher."25
In the fourth section (28-43) although La Botie flatters
Montaigne with being well ahead of him on the path to virtue,26
he significantly notes, in view of what is to follow, that his friend
is "prone to the noble vices as well as to the virtues" (37-38). He
also introduces (34) the important concept of morbus and its
effect on judgement.
In the fifth and last section of the introduction (44-52),
agricultural images again illustrate questions of character.
Aegyptus bona multa creat, mala multa venena.
Cliniadem gravis assidue cum ambiret amator, cui
non invidit sapientis nomen Apollo, quid vidisse
putas ? "Puer hic aut perdet Athenas out omabit, " ait.
"Vis emicat ignea mentis, ostentans mirum artificem
pravique bonique. Quisqus erit, dubium virtuti
adducere conor, si valeam expugnare. Et adhuc
victoria pendet. Surgit laeta seges, sed laetior officii
herba. "
Egypt creates many drugs that are good and many that are poison-ous.
When Socrates, the circumspect lover, to whom Apollo did not

24

Cf. Sainte-Beuve, op. cit., pp. 150-151..

In lines 1-16 of poem 3, La Botie, presumably responding to a request
made by Montaigne, notes that he cannot be his teacher because Montaigne is
well ahead of him in struggling to climb the path of virtue (i.e. the surgentem dextro... limite collem of Persius 3.56-57) and because he himself, lacking experience
and age, is unequal to the task. Lines 17-24 show that Virtue (personified) cannot
be taught to everyone, only to those who are ready to receive her (note the
similarity between lines 17-20 and lines 21-27 of poem 20). The long conclusion
(25-72) is taken principally from Xenophon, Memorabilia, 2.1.21-34 and shows
Hercules at the crossroads, deciding between Virtus and Voluptas .
25

26

Cf. for the same thought, his poem 3, 1-8.

27

Homer, Od., 4.229-230.

La Botie's Neo-Latin Satire

55

begrudge the name of sapiens, was constantly seeing Alcibiades, what

do you think he observed? He said: "This boy will either ruin or
embellish Athens. The burning force of his mind flashes, showing him
to be a marvelous doer either of good or of evil. Whichever it will be,
I shall try to lead him to virtue in his hesitation, if I am strong enough
to win out. Victory is still possible. The fertile wheat thrives, but the
more fertile weeds obstruct it."

"Aegyptus" (as a site of agricultural production) and the difference between wheat and weeds form implicit similes with
Alcibiades. Rather abruptly, as it seems, La Botie announces
that Egypt is the source of much "good" and of much "evil."
Then, after another allusion to Cicero,28 he gives an example of
good and evil existing in the character of one person: Alcibiades.
He expresses the polarity through the opposites perdet (47) and
ornabit (48), and pravi and boni (49; doubly joined by the "epic"
-que). Socrates' si valeam (51) recalls the non id valeat of line 13
and thus foreshadows the failure of his effort to lead Alcibiades
to virtue. La Botie ends the section, and the introduction, with
a sententia, the second simile drawn implicitly with Alcibiades:
Surgit laeta seges, sed laetior officii herba (52).29 Alcibiades'
potential is again expressed through opposites: seges and herba.
Following the context, Alcibiades is a rich field which needs to be
tended to vigorously and early on, lest the more abundant weeds,
i.e., the evil aspects of his character stunt the growth of the better
ones.30 It is possible, based on what has been said concerning the
teacher-student relationship between La Botie and Montaigne,
to pair them, carefully, with Socrates and Alcibiades. Indeed,
there is a resemblance between Montaigne's propensity to the
"noble failings as well as to the virtues (37-38)" and Alcibiades'
potential for pravique bonique (49). This potential for good and

28

De Amicitia, 7, 10, 13.

The sententia recalls Georgics (1. 69-70): illic, officiant laetis ne frugibus
herbae, /hic, sterilem exiguus ne deserat umor harenam. Virgil (63-70) is giving
instructions for the appropriate plowing of different sorts of soils. Rich soil (illic)
should be thoroughly plowed in the spring: "so that weeds may not harm the
luxuriant crop," while poorer soil (hic) only lightly in autumn: "so that the scant
moisture may not desert the barren sand."
30
See Plutarch, Alcibiades, 4, 1, where an agricultural image similar to this
one is used. Cf. De la servitude volontaire, p. 47, where the image of "herbes" is
presented differently.
29

56

James S. Hirstein

bad in Montaigne is what elicited La Botie's mention of the

good and bad drugs of Egypt. However, in spite of his reputation
and his relatively disinterested friendship, Socrates fails, with the
result that the example set by the Athenians is not encouraging
for the Frenchmen.
This last section has stressed the difficulty for a teacher or
mentor of bending or influencing the pugnantia usque ingenia.
While Persius' fourth satire concerning Socrates and Alcibiades
may have led La Botie to this subject, the Frenchman's treatment is very different. His interest in friendship may also have
called to mind the Socrates and Alcibiades of Plato's Symposium?31 However, in following the agricultural imagery of the
introduction into the main section (53-266) of the satire, one discovers what seems to be La Botie's principal source for combining discussion of the teacher-student relationship with
agricultural imagery:
Ergo mature atque opera maiore valentes inflectendi
animi et multa mercede colendi. Quod ni mox
puerum monitor nutrice relicta finget et assidue
patulas purgaverit aures... (53-56)
Strong dispositions must thus early on and with great effort be given
direction and cultivated with much cost. But if the preceptor does not soon
instruct the young boy freed from the influence of his nurse and if he has
not vigorously purged his wide open ears...

At this point it becomes clear that the poem will deal with the
moral upbringing of a certain puer, one of the imaginary interlocutors of the satire. Lines 53 and 54, while ostensibly concerning "dispositions" (animi), could, following the Virgilian and agricultural context, just as well have as their subject growing plants
or trees. Indeed, the multa mercede colendi represents a close
and appropriate adaptation of Virgil,32 since the puer here is
made to resemble a wild, young plant. However, it is lines 55-56

31

Note that Valerius Maximus, Facta et Dicta . . . ,3.1 (end) presents

Alcibiades' effect on Athens in terms similar to those of La Botie.
32

Virgil, Georgics, 2, 61-62: scilicet omnibus (i.e. all species of wild trees) est
labor impendendus, et omnes/ cogendae in sulcum ac multa mercede domandae. La
Botie's passage echoes Virgil's not only in the exact metrical position and very
similar vocabulary of multa mercede domandae and multa mer-cede colendi, but also
in the use of gerundives at the beginning and end of the lines.

La Botie's Neo-Latin Satire

57

which contain the key for understanding La Botie's thought as

mediated by classical sources. These lines evoke Persius, Satires,
5.63-64:
cultor enim iuvenum purgatas insers cutres
fruge Cleanthea...
For you, a farmer of the young, sow their purged ears with Cleanthes' crop.

Persius is praising his Stoic teacher Cornutus, who brings up

youths with the teachings of Cleanthes, one of the major Stoic
philosophers.33 It is very pertinent to note here that the teacherstudent relationship did not preclude friendship. On the contrary, one may see in the friendship of La Botie and Montaigne
an example of the contubernium, a Stoic friendship based on a
desire for moral improvement.34 When La Botie's verses are
strengthened with the context supplied by Persius, they announce
nearly the entire program of the satire. They not only foreshadow the Stoic ending of the poem, but may very likely be the
principal source for La Botie's association of the teacherstudent relationship, and of his friendship with Montaigne, with
agricultural imagery, notably with grafting.35
The puer's dispositions, then, must be seized upon very early
by a better education than that which such children commonly
receive.36 In agricultural imagery, here made sexual, his youth is
burgeoning (turgente iuventa, 59).37 In lines 63-70, the boy
speaks, or rather boasts, in direct speech.38 After an aside in
lines 71-75 as to the best way to approach the spirited youth, La
Botie introduces the second imaginary interlocutor, the ostensibly hedonistic "parasite" who will better gain the boy's confidence

33

See R. A. Harvey, A Commentary on Persius, Leiden: Brill, 1981, ad loc.

34

See Mark Morford, Stoics and Neostoics: Rubens and the Circle of Lipsius, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991, pp. 15-22.
35
Cf. also the "inseris" of Persius, 5.63 with the "inser" of La Botie 3.18
and the "insita" of 20.12.
36

Cf. the "carta . . . picta" of lines 57-58 with the "luisons images" of De la
servitude volontaire, p. 58.
37

For another agricultural or plant term with iuventa, see line 68.

38

The tenor of 63-64 makes one think of Persius, 3.17-18.

58

James S. Hirstein

thanks to the desires and vices they hold in common. Until the
end of the central section, the "parasite" questions the puer to
determine what the most absolute and satisfying pleasure is.
Burgeoning youth is most interested in sex (87). The choice
allowed is that between courtesans and married women. The
"parasite" begins by discussing how best to approach married
women.
La Botie's method has become clearer. As Socrates with
Alcibiades, the "parasite" will subtly attempt to lead the puer to
virtue. La Botie does this through satire. In fact, his lines 71-74
furnish a definition of the indirect criticism used in the genre, a
definition similar to Horace's "ridentem dicere verum" (S. 1.1.24).
His greatest obstacle is the puer's libido. Without infringing
overly much on the satirist's right to criticize someone or society
indirectly, it is worthwhile to ask what Montaigne may have in
common with the puer, who is overly devoted, if not enslaved to
voluptas, i. e., here, sexual pleasure outside of marriage.
La Botie devotes many lines, too many certainly, to practical reasons for resisting voluptas. This shows how much he
values and wishes to emphasize the concrete benefits of judicious
sexual conduct: good mental and physical health.
In lines 84 to 89, La Botie begins to think more of Horace
than Virgil, whose Georgics have supplied much of the imagery
until now. The mention of labor and dolor in line 86 recalls lines
37-40 of Horace's Satire 1.2:
audire est operae pretium, procedere recte qui
moechis non vultis, ut omni parte lahorent,
utque illis multo corrupta dolore voluptas atque
haec rara cadat dura inter saepe pericia.
It is worthwhile hearing, you who do not wish adulterers success, how they
struggle on every side and how pleasure for them is corrupted through
much pain and occurs rarely and accompanied by many hard dangers.

The mention of labor is very useful because it serves as a transition from the Georgics to Horace's Satire 1.2 and also to Ovid's
Ars amatoria.39 The term is prevalent and important in the
Georgics, provoking varying interpretations. Two things seem to

39

La Botie uses labor five times in the poem: 86, 89, 147, 229, and 274.

La Botie's Neo-Latin Satire

59

be certain: there is much "work' or "toil" for the farmer and most
often it is done in vain.40 In Horace 1.2 above (cf. also lines 76
and 78), it expresses, as a verb (38), the work uselessly expended
in pursuing married women of high place (matronae), when there
is much easier prey. In the Ars amatoria, labor generally means
the "tactics" which the lover must assiduously employ to possess
the object of his desire, who, ostensibly, is not a matron.41 Labor
in a Virgilian sense is implicit in the haud segnis of the scion in
line 15 and also in lines 53 and 54, which deal with the work
necessary to "cultivate" young minds. When the word itself
appears in line 86, in the question of the "parasite" as to whether
labor is wasted in such and such a pleasure (Specie num credita
fallunt/atque intus vitiat labor et dolor inficit ater? 85-86), it can
bear the meaning of labor lost in such cultivation, from the point
of view of either the student or the teacher, and with the laborem
impendentem of line 89, it provides a transition to the more
Ovidian and Horatian section of the poem, where the "work
which lies ahead" will be that of obtaining the favor of the
beloved. Dolor will be an important consideration at the end of
the poem.
From this point, then, the poem takes on a didactic aspect.
In line 90 the list of the lover's tactics begins and in line 93: sic
ars iubet, La Botie alludes to Ovid's mock didactic poem, the
Ars amatoria.42 The content of what follows (90-146)43 thus
becomes somewhat Ovidian. Lines 90-104 first instruct the lover
and then ironically present him as subject to the ruses of both the
hand-maidens and the domina herself. La Botie closes the section (102-104) with an image used earlier by him in the De la ser-

40

Cf. Thomas, op. cit., vol. 1, p. 16.

Despite his disavowals, Ovid often seems to have matronae in mind, see
A. S. Hollis, Ovid: Ars Amatoria, Book I, rpt. 1989, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977,
pp. xv-xvii. It seems he himself is influenced by Virgil's use of labor, see E. L.
Leach, "Georgic Imagery in the Ars Amatoria" Transactions of the American
Philological Association, 95 (1964), pp. 150 and 151 and Hollis, op. cit., p. 39.
42
See Ars am., 1, 351 for the context.
43
But for La Botie's lateri latus (150) see Ovid, Ars Am., 1.140 and 496,
etc.
41

James S. Hirstein

60

vitude volontaire, enhanced with a classical commonplace for the

servitude of the lover.44
In the case of Polyphemus and Galatea (105-130), La Botie
adapts Ovid's story from the Metamorphoses45 and, with little
effort, turns it into a warning of the dangers of the furor amoris,
the crazed passion of love.46 However, the language of the passage, especially lines 122-130, recalls Horace, Satires 2.3.39-53.
The theme of morbus, which was introduced earlier, reappears.47
Stoics look upon such passions as diseases of the mind and use
the metaphor abundantly.48 Polyphemus is so pitifully overwhelmed by the madness of love that he cannot even recognize it
for what it is (119-121). He has lost his sense of judgement and
is led on by an exitiosa libido (124-125). La Botie closes this
subsection with the catchy oculatior (129), in chiding the puer who
imagines that he is going to be more perceptive in love than the
poor Cyclops.
The example of Hercules is again a telling one in regards to
sexual desire as a disruptive passion and to Stoicism. Ovid in the
Ars amatoria49 refers to the example of Hercules enslaved to
Omphale to illustrate the lengths to which a lover should go to
please his beloved. La Botie (131-144) takes the same story to
show how love's madness leads to humiliating behavior that is
unbecoming of a man. In his neo-latin poem 3, he refers to the
Stoic exemplum of Hercules' decision at the crossroads to follow
either the difficult path of virtus or the easy one of voluptas.50 In

44
See De la servitude volontaire, p. 51, for the "manni" ("courtaus" in
French), and Virgil, Geor., 3. 208; Horace, Carm. 1. 8. 6-7; and Ovid, Amores. 1.
2. 15 for "lupatis" For La Botie's "phaleris" cf. Persius 3. 30.
45

Metamorphoses, 13. 738-897, and cf. Theocritus, Idylls, 6 and 11.

46

Furor in this sense is used twice in 119 and once in 275.

47

Morbus is used four times in the poem: 34, 114, 120, and 284.

48

Cf. Cicero, Tusculanae Disputationes, 4.11-33 and especially, Persius 3.

49

Ars am. 2. 217-221; however he treats the episode much more fully in
Heroides, 11. 53-81.
50

See our note 25.

La Botie's Neo-Latin Satire

61

the case of Hercules, although he is here rather undignified

wearing a dress and spinning, the same Stoic context is present.51
A description of the woes and dangers of being a lover of
married women fills lines 147-195. There are several disadvantages to this activity. First of all, the domestics of the
beloved may be in direct competition with her suitor. And he has
no room to complain about his fellow bed violators, who, in fact,
are better off than he is. They are inside the house, while he
paces outside in the rain, the laughing stock of the smelly neighborhood. While this passage has a ring of La Botie's own time
to it, the reference to Davus recalls Horace, Satires 2.7.46 ss.
Libido, this time furiosa, is evoked in the person of the beloved as
it sears her and drives her to flaunt all laws, human and divine.52
That a muscular lackey (162) may better quench this fire than the
suitor, reminds one of Montaigne's similar remarks on "l'amour
d'un muletier."53 A greater danger however is discovery by the
husband (177-195), which may put the lover in a very embarrassing and dangerous position.54
Beginning with line 196, the consideration of sex with
courtesans begins. La Botie here uses Horace's vocabulary, but
can no longer follow his thought from S. 1. 2, as Horace suggests
freedwomen as a happy medium between the excesses involved
in pursuing, on the one hand, matronae and, on the other,
extravagant and demanding mimae or meretrices. Indeed, for La
Botie the appropriate answer seems to be marriage. The tone
becomes more serious and dominical. In lines 196-226, the "par-

51
La Botie (134-135) seems to doubt this story of Hercules: nisi vatibus
est hic/forte neganda fides. In writing about the furor amoris La Botie also thinks
of Lucretius. In lines 139-140, the expression "Pendet/ex oculis. . ." recalls the
opening of Lucretius' De rerum natura (1, 37), where Mars, despite his power as
god of war, is subjugated by the beauty and charms of Venus. The allusion is
appropriate in this place where La Botie notes that love unmans men.
52
Cf. Juvenal, Satires 6. 85-86 and 111-112.
53

Muletier: Apologie de Raymond Sebond, II, 12, T-R, p. 471.

La Botie's source for the episode of the trunk and much of what follows
is Horace, Satires 2.7.46-82. Concerning the punishments, La Botie thinks not
only of Horace S. 1. 2. 40-46 and 127-134 but also of Juvenal, S. 10.314-317. For
raphanus, see Aristophanes, Clouds, 1083; Catullus, 15.19; Horace S. 1.2.133
("puga") and Juvenal, Satires 10.317 ("mugilis").
54

James S. Hirstein

62

asite," who seems to be more a stern moralist than a "bon vivant,"

sharply criticizes the puer. He accuses him of wanting to turn to
courtesans since married women have now been ruled out, and
castigates his perversity in wanting to do only what is forbidden:
Anne tibi nisi turpe placet nihil? Usque adeone/et prurit sola et
iuvat interdicta voluptas? (210-211).55 And yet, he could be
enjoying the sweet pleasures of domestic life (213-215).56
Courtesans are no less dangerous than married women (226240). All things being equal, they may inflict more emotional and
mental pain, as they are more experienced (veteratrix, 237).
Should one become so ensnared as to want the courtesan for his
own, this would be tantamount to claiming the Mediterranean
Sea as private property. Here La Botie's language echoes
Horace's description of the disadvantages of seeing married
women. 57 Physical dangers and pain (241-266) are no less
prevalent than when one associates with matronae; only the
nature of the danger changes: there are brawls among the rivals
(241-251) and, worse yet, the so-called "French plague" menaces
(252-266; interestingly, the word morbus is not used here).
The central section ends with a searing discussion of syphilis
in which La Botie describes the painful and futile treatment of
the disease:
...Et tomen, ut sic
quacumque effugias, alte succintus inunctum torrebit flammis
medicus penitusque requiret igne mali latebras. Nequiquam.
Nam modo pelle exuta, erumpes serpens novus. Altera saxa
quaeres rursus ubi impingas, quia taetrior haeret quae nec
cum scabie queat exudare libido. (260-266)
And yet, even though you flee by every means, the well-armed doctor will
deeply scorch you as you are covered with medicine and will search out
with fire the hiding places of the evil in the depths of your body. But in
vain. For, once your skin has been stripped off, you will burst forth a new
serpent. You will again seek other rocks where you may rub [your skin off],
because this is a desire which sticks very foully and it cannot be sweated
out with the scabs.

55

For wanting what is forbidden, cf. Horace S. 1.2. 96-100 and 103-108.
La Botie thinks here of tender lines from Lucretius, 3.895-896; cf. also
Vergil, Georgics, 2. 523.
57
Horace, S. 1.2.109-110 and 42-45 (order of occurrence in La Botie's poem).
56

La Botie's Neo-Latin Satire

63

La Botie combines the ideas of the physical sickness of syphilis

and the moral sickness of the furor amoris in treating desire,
libido, as though it were something physical which sticks to one,
but which cannot be gotten rid of. Although the mention of
syphilis recalls the sixteenth century, Horace, who in Sat 1.2.33
mentions a taetra libido, has not been forgotten.58
The third and final section begins at line 267. It has been a
long time now since the "parasite" showed his hand. He finds
none of the more common pleasures satisfying: neither other
men's wives nor courtesans seem to constitute suitable love
objects. However, returning to his creature's initial question as
to whether the puer's pleasures were absolute and not wasteful of
effort, La Botie (267-277) answers that labor is lost in them.
Recalling the Stoic conception of time: that there is no present,
only the past and the future (272-273),59 he describes voluptas as
so ephemeral as to be nonexistent. But before her there is toil
(labor) and after her disgust {fastidia). In lines (274-275), which
recall Lucretius' description of the furor amoris,60 La Botie
speaks of the indomitus furor which, like a dog, returns again and
again, barking in vain at its dishes and desiring the same food
which will never satisfy it. This final reference to an animal,
made to symbolize failure in mastering one's desires, recalls
those made to a fish and a baited hook (193-195) and to the
snake (263-266), neither of which exercises any control over
themselves.
The next to last section (278-300) presents the philosophical
conclusion which La Botie wishes to draw. La Botie's general
source of inspiration for this final part of the poem seems to be
Persius, 3. 63-65 and 88-106, who shows that those who do not
have recourse to philosophy to overcome their vices are like sick
men who could be freed of their diseases if only they would take
the cure. Nevertheless, he may derive his interest in the questions of pain and health from Plutarch's Common Conceptions

58

Virgil, Georgics 1.84-88 and 3. ad finem may also be considered.

Cf. Plutarch, Moralia, "Common Conceptions Against the Stoics' ("De
Communibus Notitiis Adversus Stoicos"), 1081.
60
Cf. Lucretius 4.1091-1105; 1115-1120; and 1203-1205. See also the image
of the dog in Seneca, Ep. 72.
59

64

James S. Hirstein

against the Stoics.61 He asks why we make so much of momentary, almost non-existent pleasure, while we ignore the essential
problem:
Nam quae titillant tarn momentanea sensus tamque
exili animum perfundunt rore? Quid illa nos
facimus tanti? Contra, qui plurimus ambit et
circumvallat late dolor alius et acres infigit morsus,
hunc temnimus. Et mala laevi dissimulamus vixque
etiam sentire fatemur. Morbus, ne dubita, morbus...
For what are these pleasures so ephemeral which titillate the senses and
bathe the soul with such a scant dew? Why do we make so much of
them? On the other hand, we ignore the deep pain which moves
everywhere, encircles us in every situation and inflicts bitter bites. We
awkwardly dissemble its evils and scarcely even admit to feeling them. But
it is a disease, have no doubt, it is a disease. (278-284)

What is this "deep pain," this dolor altus? Montaigne's essay

L'Apologie de Raimond Sebond (II, 12), which has much in common with parts of the satire, is of help. After having quoted lines
296-300 of La Botie's poem, Montaigne seems to gloss the
verses which precede them:
L'appetit qui nous ravit l'accointance des femmes, il ne cherche qu'
chasser la peine que nous apporte le desir ardent et furieux, et ne
demande qu' l'assouvir et se loger en repos et en l'exemption de cette
fievre.62

Thus, in lines 278-279, the momentary pleasure of which we

make so much is the "appetit" for sex, and its satisfaction. It
seeks to drive out the "dolor altus" (281), the "peine," which is a
manifestation of the "desir ardent et furieux," the furor amoris.
According to La Botie, we are more concerned with satisfying,
whenever it demands it, our sexual appetite. Our appetite,
however, seeks nothing other than to assuage our desire, a desire
which creates a "pain" in us. We are so intent on the acts necessary to chase away momentarily the pain that we seem to ignore
its cause. Broadly speaking, we treat the symptom but ignore the

61

See our note 59. We have chosen this source of information on Stoicism
because Montaigne, according to T-R, uses it also; cf. L'Apologie de Raimond
Sebond, pp. 464, 466, 468-471 and see Plutarch 1063. F-1064. A and 1071. C-E.
62
Montaigne, T-R, pp. 472-473. Lines 296-300 are quoted, with "pungit"
substituted for "urit" A change which will not scan.

La Botie's Neo-Latin Satire

65

disease. Although, following Montaigne, we seek only alleviation

of the "pain," La Botie points out that when it is brought about
by an indomitus furor (275), there will never be a respite.
For La Botie this furor is a sickness: Morbus, ne dubita,
morbus (284). It affects our sense of judgement (284-289). We
falsely blame Nature; falsely, because, according to the Stoics,
such lust is not natural, it is indeed a sickness, a disease of the
mind.63 A stronger innate and physical reflex, that of avoiding
pain (293-300) should guide us. If freedom from the dolor altus is
only temporary, it is better yet to avoid it somehow altogether
than to suffer from its inevitable return. This argument, which is
basically Epicurean, is surprising. First of all, it is based on
entirely physical considerations: if something hurts us, we must
avoid it. However, La Botie's concerns have not been so simple.
Voluptas is by definition pleasurable. His effort has been to show
us intellectually that it is ultimately painful and debilitating,
destructive of one's mind and judgement. What does he offer to
make us less concerned with pleasure (295-300)? Only the fact
that even slight pain overshadows greater joy. Although we may
be in excellent health, a slight wound will take all our attention.
What pleases him? The absence of pain.
Understandably, La Botie is not content to have us strive
only for the absence of pain. He wants to direct us to a higher
state which will exclude pain and all other disturbing feelings
altogether, replacing them with something nobler and surer.
The best way to live, then, as the final section (301-319)
shows, is to imitate the Stoic wiseman who follows virtue, a subject which brings us back to the beginning of the poem. La Botie seems to propose as a model the perfect sapiens, touched by
nothing and depending only upon himself, living in an absolute
state of freedom from disturbing passion. It is true that after line
307, the subject of La Botie's inspired description is virtus and
not the sapiens. However, in line 305, in answer to the puer's
question as to whether all we have to look forward to in life is the
gray absence of pain, he says clearly that there is much more:
"virtue," but that it exists only for the sapiens who will not be
touched by outside events. It can be assumed that the glowing

63

Cf.Cicero, De fin., 3. 35.

66

James S. Hirstein

description of virtue is in fact that of the sapiens possessing it. La

Botie's basic source of inspiration seems to be Horace, S.
2.7.83-88, although the Frenchman's description of the sapiens is
made in earnest.64
This virtue is self-sufficient and immune to all the madness
which surrounds it. It cannot know pain. Appropriately enough:
(312-313) Extra/nil cupit out metuit, nullo violabilis ictu, it resembles one of Lucretius' atoms.65
Yet the praise of such a sapiens is in direct contradiction to
Cicero's idea on the subject. It is true that La Botie does not
clearly embrace from Cicero the "Middle Stoa" of Paenetius,
although his close reliance on the De Amicitia could have led one
to think this. Rather, La Botie has described a finished, perfectus sapiens of the "Old Stoa." Cicero, in criticizing this form of
Stoicism, clearly points out that it can lead to disastrous consequences in friendship. Indeed, if one's goal is to avoid perturbation at all costs, then friendship, with its duties and the
inevitable worries for one's friend, must be equally avoided.66
One wonders, then, whether the sapiens of the end of the poem
would be interested in friendship at all.
This perfect sapiens recalls the sapiens, quamvis morose, of
line 7. It seems now, when we consider the austere and isolated
sapiens at the end of the satire, that La Botie might not have
been referring to the one at the beginning humorously. But the
opening of the poem clearly conflicts with what follows. After
the initial section, La Botie's attitude towards Montaigne as a
friend, and a student, seems to become much more nuanced.
While he accepts the force of the occultum naturae foedus
between them, he does not appear optimistic about the growth of
the more important element of friendship, virtus. In our analysis
of his language and images, we have seen that he is doubtful
about a teacher being successful in molding the character of his
student, in making him virtuous, something Montaigne seems to
have asked him to do.

64

Cf. also Plutarch, op. cit., 1068. B.

Cf. 1, 528 ss; for L.B. 312 see Luc. 2, 650 where the nature of the gods is
so described.
65

66

Cicero, De Amic., 48.

La Botie's Neo-Latin Satire

67

Our interest in interpreting the satire has been to know how

much of La Botie's doubt on these issues concerned Montaigne
and his friendship with him. We think that La Botie had his
friend quite firmly in mind when he undertook to reform the
morals of the imaginary puer. The names of La Botie and
Montaigne are placed together in the final lines, where the language recalls the agricultural imagery of a large part of the poem:
318: laeta, 319: fruens and 320: decerpere fructus and also reminds
one of Horace 1.2 again (lines 77-79), where decerpere fructus is
used in the same metrical position. However, while Horace is
simply pointing out that there is more trouble (laboris/plus . . .
mal) than enjoyment (fructus) in pursuing matronae, La Botie
wishes that he and Montaigne may strive after the fruits of a very
demanding, rigorous, and ascetic type of Stoicism.67
University of Virginia

67

What was Montaigne's reaction to his friend's satire? Besides referring to it in

an addition appearing in the 1595 edition of the Essais (the "satyre latine excellente")
in De l'amiti (T-R, p. 187), he seems to have had it in mind in an intriguing sentence
appearing in the 1580 edition. In touching upon the last of the various sorts of
friendship ("naturelle, sociale, hospitaliere, venerienne" T-R ., p. 183) Montaigne
evokes "l'affection envers les femmes" and the "feu temeraire et volage, ondoyant et
divers, feu de fiebvre" and the "desir forcen aprs ce qui nous fuit" (p. 184) which are
involved in it, themes which can be found in La Bo-tie's satire. He then writes, in
referring to his friendship with La Botie, which is the subject of the essay:
Sous cette parfaicte amiti, ces affections volages ont autrefois trouv
place chez moy, affin que je ne parle de luy, qui n'en confesse que trop
par ces [T-R; "ses" in Villey] vers.
Subordinate to this perfect friendship, these ephemeral loves have in other
days found lodging in me - not to speak of him who reveals this only too
clearly in these [his] verses. Georges B. Ives (who in our opinion renders
the passage most clearly), translator, The Essays of Michel de Montaigne,
with a Handbook to the Essays by the translator and Grace Norton, New
York: Heritage Press, 1946, vol. 1, p. 249.
The "luy" in question most logically refers to La Botie (this is the opinion of Ives and
Norton, ibid. vol. 3, p. 1645), who is mentioned throughout the essay, and the "vers"
may well be La Botie's satire which Montaigne had either in front of him or in mind.
Of La Botie's French poems, neither the 29 sonnets which fol-lowed De l'amiti in
the first edition nor those published by Montaigne with the neo-latin ones in 1572 fit
the context. Montaigne may then have understood much of the satire to refer to him
personally.

Dire, Signifier:
La Figure de la Significado dans les Essais
Gisle Mathieu-Castellani
Le dmantlement de la Rhtorique ne date ni d'aujourd'hui ni d'hier. Forte ses origines de son ancrage institutionnel,
triomphante au Forum et au Tribunal, affichant son lien avec la
pratique de la dmocratie, fleuron de la civilisation et de la
paixtel tait en tout cas son discours publicitaire, elle n'a cess
de voir s'amenuiser son champ, se morceler son empire. Art de
la parole efficace, technique de communication oriente vers
l'action, prise alors dans le rseau des autres sciences avec
lesquelles elle entrait en rapport de similitude et de diffrence, la
Rhtorique avait l'avantage, notamment chez Aristote,
d'interroger les modalits de l'nonciation pour construire une
typologie des discours et des situations de locution. Se mtamorphosant aux XVIe et XVIIe sicles en mta-langage critique, apte
parler indiffremment de tous les arts, verbaux et non-verbaux,
informant les potiques auxquelles elle impose la fois son
systme et ses modalits descriptives, elle devient au XVIIIe sicle un ensemble de normes.
Rduction de la Rhtorique ses cinq parties, inventio, dispositio, elocutio, memoria, pronuntiatio ou actio; rduction des
cinq parties aux trois premires, ds lors que le discours n'est
plus considr dans sa dimension institutionnelle et active;
puis des trois parties la seule elocutio, et de l'elocutio au
systme des figures: de restriction en restriction, trou et en lambeaux, le manteau rhtorique ne couvre plus que le corps
squelettique des surs ennemies et complices, Mtaphore et
Mtonymie, censes bientt polariser l'opposition de la posie et
du rcit, de la similarit et de la contiguit....
Alors mme que la Rhtorique prtend constituer un corps
de figures classant toutes les manires de dire et de penser, chez

Dire, Signifier: La Figure de la Significatio dans les Essais

69

Du Marsais, chez Fontanier, le rpertoire montre d'tonnantes

lacunes. Ainsi en va-t-il de l'trange figure de la significatio,
oublie par la rhtorique moderne, et qui, par malchance, n'a
gure d'quivalent en franais. Ses occurences chez Cicron ou
Quintilien embarrassent les traducteurs, comme du reste son
synonyme grec emphasis, qu'on ne peut gure traduire par
emphase. Le dictionnaire Gaffiot traduit significatio par allusion,
ce qui risque de faire confondre cette figure avec celle de
l'allusion verbale, mythologique et historique, qui est tout autre.
Car la significatio, proche de huponoia, insinuation par mots
couverts, est l'art d'en dire plus qu'on ne dit, de donner
entendre un sens plus profond (altiorem intellectum) que celui
que dclarent les mots seuls. Elle est en somme une figure du
discours oblique. Voil sans doute qui mrite examen.
l'origine de la petite enqute, le hasard d'une occurrence
et d'une rencontre.
Une occurrence, d'abord. l'occasion de la publication
dans une anthologie de quelques textes des Amours de Christofle
de Beaujeu (1589), dont certains, fort nigmatiques, piquaient
ma curiosit depuis longtemps, relisant l'Avis Au Lecteur qui
ouvre le volume, je trouve ceci:
Pour t'claircir entirement, ami Lecteur, de toutes les choses qui te
pourraient tre dsagrables en mes uvres, je t'avertirai de deux
choses: la premire, C'est que toutes mes lgies, Quadrains, Odes,
Sonnets, lettres en prose ont t envoyes o je ne pouvais aller: Joint
qu'en beaucoup d'endroits il y a des vers hors de rime, et de raison,
prends garde l, et tu trouveras que ce sont des noms tourns,
Anagrammes, Significations, ou jargon, qui ne sont point intelligibles,
qu'aux Desses du Temple o mes sacrifices taient faits, qui est une
chose quoi j'ai voulu mettre remde, et ne m'en tant advis que
bien tard, j'ai cuid tout gter, ayant fait en sorte que mon uvre en
sera moins recommandable, et au hasard de m'apporter du blme. (Je
modernise l'orthographe.)

O il apparat que, ct des anagrammes et du jargon, la signification est une figure de l'allusion ou du cryptage du sens, un
pige pour l'ami lecteur, la trace d'une entente particulire,
demi-mot, entre un pote-amant et sa ddicataire-matresse.
Une rencontre, ensuite. Cherchant les dfinitions de la signification dans les rhtoriques latines, je remarque ces deux
formules, Tune de Cicron, reprise par Quintilien:

Gisle Mathieu-Castellani

70

et plus ad intellegendum quant dixeris, significatio (De l'Orateur III.202);

l'autre de Quintilien, propos du premier type d'emphasis:

altera quae plus significat quant dicit (Inst. Oratoire VIII.3.83).

Auxquelles fait cho en mmoire la clbre squence commentative de l'essai Sur des vers de Virgile (III.V):
[B] Plutarque dit qu'il vit le langage latin par les choses; ici de mme:
le sens claire et produit les paroles. [C] Elles signifient plus qu'elles
ne disent.

Il m'a sembl alors qu'il convenait sans doute de rouvrir le dossier: non point certes pour rvaluer l'importance de l'hritage
rhtorique dans les Essais, mais plutt pour apprcier le
caractre opratoire de la figure de la significatio dans une
thorie du langage et du texte littraire, comme nous y invitent
Chr. de Beaujeu et Montaigne, diffremment. C'est dire que la
significatio nous intressera en tant que figure d'un discours oblique, volontairement ou involontairement nigmatique. Mais
aussi en tant que figure de la passion, car, chez Quintilien,
comme chez Montaigne, la significatio est la marque d'un ros
qui dit ce qu'il ne veut pas dire, ce qu'il ne sait pas qu'il dit, ce
qu'il ne sait pas qu'il sait.
***

1. Du ct de la Rhtorique...
Une petite excursion sur les territoires rhtoriques nous fait
constater une premire ambiguit de la significatio: est-elle figure
ou trope? Le traducteur franais de l'Institution oratoire, Jean
Cousin, montre bien que l'hsitation, l'oscillation de
Quintilien, considrant la significatio comme un trope au livre
VIII, comme une figure de style au livre IX, vient de la concurrence de deux traditions, l'une stocienne, l'autre hellnistique, mais que le rhteur latin incline classer dans le groupe des
tropes, des ornements du discours. Du reste, l'quivalent grec,
l'emphasis, est chez les rhteurs une virtus orationis qui n'est
prcisment ni trope ni figure stricto sensu. Une telle indcision
est dj l'indice du trouble qu'apporte la significatio la pulsion
taxinomique de la Rhtorique....

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Deuxime remarque: la significatio est peu prs

intraduisible par un mot unique, et les traducteurs franais lui
donnent pour quivalents selon les contextes tantt emphase,
tantt litote, soit des antonymes! Il arrive Quintilien de dsigner par le grec emphasis une figure d'attnuation. Traduisant la
mme squence du De Oratore, reprise textuellement dans
l'Institutio oratoria, E. Courbaud choisit de rendre significatio par
litote l o J. Cousin prfre ( bon droit) suggestion.
Enfin, lorsque la significatio prend place dans le De Oratore au
nombre des faceti, elle devient fine raillerie, ou bon mot,
spirituelle rpartie.
Troisime remarque: si la significatio est perue par nos
rhteurs comme l'quivalent du grec emphasis (emphasis esti lexis,
di' huponoias auxanousa to deloumenon, Tryphon d'Alexandrie),
en latin, elle n'est pas synonyme d'adlusio ou allusio (le jeu, mais
adludere: jouer, plaisanter, signifie galement: faire allusion ),
mais plutt de percursio. Du reste l'allusion, qui est pour
Fontanier un trope, alors que l'emphase est une figure, fait
rfrence un discours chiffr, une subtilit chiffre comme
dit B. Gracin, tandis que la significatio est du ct de la suggestion, de l'insinuation.
Pour tenter d'y voir plus clair, revenons donc Cicron et
Quintilien. Cicron:
Significatio saepe erit major quant oratio (Orator 139).
Arguta etiam significatio est, cum parva re et saepe verbo res obscura et
latens inlustratur (De oratore II.268).
Et huic [l'hypotypose] contraria saepe percursio est, et plus ad
intellegendum quam dixeris, significatio, et distincte concisa brevitas, et
extenuatio; et huic adjuncta illusio a praeceptis Caesaris non abhorrens... (De oratore III.202).

Quintilien (outre la reprise de De oratore III.202 en IX. I. 28):

amplior virtus est emphasis, altiorem praebens intellectum, quam quem
verba per se ipsa declarant Ejus duae sunt species: altera quam plus significat quam dicit, altera quae etiam id quod non dicit (Inst. or. VIII. 3. 83).
Est emphasis etiam inter figuras, cum ex aliquo dicto latens aliquid eruitur,
ut apud Vergilium... (IX. 2. 64).
Iam enim ad id genus [...] veniendum est, in quo per quondam suspicionem
quod non dicimis accipi volumus, non utique contrarium, ut in sed alius
latens et auditori quasi inveniendum (IX. 2. 65).

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En superposant tous ces noncs (et nous observons au passage

que en dehors de sa citation cicronienne, Quintilien prfre
parler d'emphasis, ou de ce je ne sais quoi qui insinue sans
dire), on cerne sans doute assez bien les traits de cette figure
non-figure; quatre au moins sont remarquables:
1. la significatio /emphasis a pour proprit de faire surgir
la lumire quelque chose de cach, une res obscura, un quelque
chose de latens; plus claire en cela que la significatio, l'emphasis
( = rendre visible) manifeste dans son tymologie cette fonction
illuminante. Per obscurum lumen, telle serait sa devise.
2. la significatio / emphasis faisant comprendre plus qu'on
ne dit par les mots eux-mmes {verba per ipsa), suggre et
insinue; figure de Vhuponoia, elle dit mots couverts, demi,
confusment....
3. son discours implicite est plus riche que l'explicite, elle est
major quam oratio (Cicron), elle ne se borne pas signifier
plus qu'elle ne dit, elle signifie aussi ce qu'elle ne dit pas
(Quintilien).
4. elle exige ainsi de l'auditeur / lecteur qu'il collabore la
construction du sens, elle invite trouver (invenire),
inventer du sens.
La significatio ne se rduit pas , mais se situe du ct de la
brevitas (d'o parfois la traduction litote, peu approprie), de
Yextenuatio (l'attnuation, la litote), de l'allusion et de la suspicio,
de la pointe. On notera aussi que Quintilien distingue deux
sortes d'emphasis, l'une du ct de l'allusion / suggestion, l'autre,
plus fine, du ct du non-dit.
Ces diffrents traits suffisent expliquer le statut particulier
de la significatio dans les traits rhtoriques: elle n'est ni tout
fait trope ni tout fait figure, elle ne relve pas de la simple
techn, mais engage en ralit une thorie du langage. Et du
sens.
Trois couples d'oppositions structurent la dfinition:
1. l'opposition de l'ombre et de la lumire: obscura ou latens
vs inlustrare; ou du latent et du dcouvert: latens vs eruere
(extraire, dterrer).

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2. l'opposition, dcoulant de la premire, d'un sens trivial,

explicite, et d'un plus haut sens (altiorem intellectum), comme
dira Rabelais; ou l'opposition de la significatio Voratio
(Cicron) ou aux verba (Quintilien). Discours et mots, mots du
discours font comprendre, donnent comprendre; la signification donne comprendre un plus (non ut illegatur, sed ut plus
intellegatur, dit Quintilien), un surcrot de sens, qui dpasse le
niveau de la simple signification. O l'on voit que significatio
s'oppose signification, pour devenir signifiance....
3. l'opposition de dire signifier, de dsigner / dnoter
connoter. La significatio est une figure de la connotation.
Se distinguent ainsi comprhension correcte et comprhension suprieure, sens explicite et sens implicite, signification et
signifiance. Celle-ci exige un travail de collaboration de la part
du rcepteur, elle l'invite faire du sens avec le sens.
Comme on le voit, la significatio est ainsi tantt du ct de
l'allusion qui chiffre un discoursainsi chez Chr. de Beaujeu;
tantt du ct d'une signification suprieure, d'un plus haut
sens, de la signifianceainsi chez Montaigne.
2. Du ct de Montaigne...
Lecteur de Quintilien, Montaigne? Notons en tout cas que le
notable commentaire qui marie pour la plus grande jouissance
du lecteur les vers de Lucrce ceux de Virgile s'enrichit par
deux fois d'une addition postrieure 1588 o se marque la trace
d'une lecture de Quintilien: d'abord par le biais d'une citation,
Pectus est quod disertum facit, puis, quelques lignes plus bas, par
la traduction littrale de la formule cite plus haut: plus significat quant dicit / elles signifient plus qu'elles ne disent.
Gageons que la lecture de l'Institution oratoire, si elle n'a pas
modifi la forme et la substance du commentaire, a confort la
position du commentateur, soucieux de distinguer l'loquence
molle et seulement sans offense et l'loquence nerveuse et
solide, qui ne plat pas tant comme elle remplit et ravit.
Toute la tentative du nouveau commentaire, qui s'oppose au
commentaire traditionnel en ce qu'il n'a plus pour objet
d'expliquer, de transposer dans le discours ordinaire de la prose
ces braves formes de s'expliquer, ni de restituer les intentions du

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pote, vise d'abord reconnatre dans un pome au-del de sa

signification sa signifiance. une stylistique des intentions
s'oppose ici une stylistique des effets. Les textes cits chappent
leurs auteurs, Virgile, Lucrce, pour faire un autre pome,
invent par le lecteur dans son activit de rumination, de
mandication des mots. Dconstruite la syntaxe, dfaite la linarit de l'ordre syntagmatique: les mots s'accouplent en libert,
s'attirant l'un l'autre par leurs aimantations, luisant de leurs
reflets rciproques. De nouveaux rapports, le temps de la lecture
active, nouent en de dlicieuses treintes la mre circumfusa et le
fils infusus, tandis qu'un corps verbal s'anime, que ses membres
pars se rejoignent comme ceux des amants. Virgilucrce nat....
Et son pome signifie plus qu'il ne dit, offrant plus haut sens que
celui des mots-outils, devenus chair et os. Si les paroles
reprsentent un objet plus vivement empreint en l'me au lieu
de se borner le dcrire et le peindre, c'est grce au concours
d'un autre esprit, celui du lecteur co-auteur, qui reoit et rend
vive impression. Quelque chose du mien s'ajoute au langage
crit et lu: aliud latens et auditori quasi inveniendum est ici en
effet mis en lumire, rinvent par la rumination.
Mais si le commentaire atteste une rencontre entre
Quintilien et Montaigne, il importe d'observer que la figure de
significatio informe aussi la thorie de l'essai. Et plus prcisment la rflexion, toujours poursuivie, sur son sens. On se rappelle cette tonnante squenceune addition postrieure
1588dans le chapitre Considration sur Cicron (I. XL. 251):
Je sais bien, quand j'ois quelqu'un qui s'arrte au langage des Essais,
que j'aimerais mieux qu'il s'en tt. Ce n'est pas tant lever les mots,
comme c'est dprimer le sens, d'autant plus piquamment que plus
obliquement. Si suis-je tromp, si gure d'autres donnent plus
prendre en la matire, et, comment que ce soit, mal ou bien, si nul
crivain l'a seme ni gure plus matrielle ni au moins plus drue en
son papier. Pour en ranger davantage, je n'en entasse que les ttes.
Que j'y attache leur suite, je multiplierai plusieurs fois ce volume. Et
combien y ai-je pandu d'histoires qui ne disent mot, lesquelles qui
voudra plucher un peu ingnieusement, en produira infinis Essais.
[...] Elles portent souvent, hors de mon propos, la semence d'une
matire plus riche et plus hardie, et sonnent gauche un ton plus
dlicat, et pour moi qui n'en veux exprimer davantage, et pour ceux
qui rencontreront mon air.

Dans ce fragment de potique, plusieurs motifs, dont la rcurrence et l indique l'importance, se tissent en rseau:

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l'opposition du langage ou des motsYelocutioet de la matirel'inventiorappelle que pour l'crivain il ne s'agit point de distinguer l'impression de l'expression, mais de convenir que bien
dire c'est bien penser, que la dextrit de la main n'est rien si l'on
n'a point l'objet plus vivement empreint en l'me. Mais surtout l'essai
se donne ici comme exemple d'une criture de la sig-nificatio,
o on en dit moins pour en dire davantage. Ces histoires qui ne
disent mot, ces anecdotes rapportes sans com-mentaire, ces
ttes qu'on entasse sans vouloir les complter d'un corps, ces
petites graines qu'on sme sans les arroser de l'eau de la ose,
sont autant d'allusions, d'nigmes, de figures du dtour. Un
discours obliquesonnant gauche un ton plus dlicatrfl-chit
sur ses ruses. Un discours digressif commente ses excursions et
ses drobades. Un discours latens sinon obscurus justifie ses
ombres; et pour moi qui n'en veux exprimer davantage: on se
souvient que Quintilien dfinit avec prcision le triple usage de
la significatio lorsqu'elle est suspicio: lorsqu'il est trop peu sr de
s'exprimer ouvertement, puis lorsque les biensances s'y
opposent, en troisime lieu seulement en vue d'atteindre la
beaut (venustatis gratia IX. 2. 66).
Comme on le voit la lecture de Quintilien et de Montaigne, la significatio n'est pas une figure comme les autres:
Quintilien dcrit ses effets (IX. 2. 64-66) plus que son mode de
production, et la dfinit sans la nommer, par approximation, par
ressemblance. Montaigne, fidle ses rserves, et se dfiant des
appellations pompeuses, se borne noter Yeffet des paroles:
elles signifient plus qu'elles ne disent, sans mme faire allusion
l'aliusion-figure, ni citer ce Quintilien qu'il citait pourtant
quelques lignes plus haut. C'est qu'il s'agit de faire sortir la significatio de la Rhtorique pour la rendre non pas la stylistique
mais la potique du texte. Signifier n'a rien voir avec l'habilet, la technique, l'art, l'elocutio, mais avec l'inventio, les
grandes conceptions d'une belle me. Au-del de la superficielle expression, la vive impression. Signifier, c'est faire voir,
mettre en lumireemphainein, faire voir plus clair et plus
outre dans la chose un objet outre l'ordinaire. Une matire plus
riche et plus hardie.
Une autre addition postrieure 1588, dans le chapitre De
la vanit (III.IX. 995-96), s'claire galement la lueur d'une
rflexion sur la significatio:

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Gisle Mathieu-Castellani
En telle occupation [dans la lecture des Essais], qui on ne veut don-ner
une seule heure, on ne veut rien donner. Et ne fait-on rien pour celui pour
qui on ne fait qu'autre chose faisant. Joint qu' l'aventure ai-je quelque
obligation particulire ne dire qu' demi, dire con-fusment, dire
discordamment.

Est-on si loin ici des analyses de Quintilien? Cette obligation

ne doit pas grand'chose la censure sociale, ni au seul respect
des convenances, ni au poids de la biensance: elle nat plus
vraisemblablement d'une exigence interne. la fois d'ordre
pragmatique,carter le lecteur indiligent, n'accepter que celui
qui acceptera de donner son temps et son attentiond'ordre
esthtique,suggrer plus que dcrire, semer plus que commenter et expliquer sans me gloser moi-mmed'ordre
thique surtout,la confusion ne se peut dire que confusment,
la discordance ne se peut dire que discordamment. La venustas
n'est-elle pas plus suggestive lorsqu'elle est voile comme le sein
des belles dames d'un rseau la fois opaque et transparent?
C'est ce aliud latens que Montaigne vise rvler, cet obscur
objet du dsir, ni entirement rvl / rvlable celui-l mme
qui tente de le dire, ni pourtant entirement cach, qui se donne
demi, mot couvert, dans son secret. trouver (inveniendum)
par le concours de deux esprits, l'un crivant, l'autre lisant et
rvant.
Car Montaigne a mdit la fois en lecteur et en crivain, et
aussi en lecteur de son propre texte, sur cette formule admirable
de Quintilien: aliud latens et auditori quasi inveniendum.
Ruminer les vers de Virgilucrce, c'est comme (quasi) les
inventer neuf: le lecteur dont il labore l'image dans mainte
page des Essais, l'ami dont il sollicite l'attention et l'amour, est
appel lui aussi rencontrer l'air de celui qui crit. Le travail
de lecture est de collaboration active.
Quand Montaigne avoue son dpit constater qu'on loue
le langage des Essais plus que leur matire, il nous invite lire
son texte comme un pome, aller au-del de signification,l'explicitepour savourer la signifiance. L'crivain dit
demi: au lecteur d'accomplir l'autre moiti du trajet. Celui qui
aime mieux n'tre pas lu que de l'tre en dormant ou en fuyant
(III. IX) choisit ou tolre l'embrouillure non point par got de

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77

l'obscurit,laquelle, parler en bon escient, je hais bien fort,

mais plutt parce que tout dire se rvle impossible, et que la
parole entrouverte, lors mme qu'elle s'affranchit des rgles
provinciales et du souci de la biensance,Or, autant que la
biensance me le permet, je fais ici sentir mes inclinations et
affections, rencontre bien vite des rsistances intimes. Le
droit au secret est revendiqu tant par le lecteur: Celui qui dit
tout, il nous saoule et dgote (III.V), que par le scripteur.
Mais l o dire se rvle impossible, reste dsigner; l o
exprimer rencontre un obstacle interne, s'offre la voie du montrer:
Tant y a qu'en ces mmoires, si on y regarde, on trouvera que j'ai tout dit,
ou tout dsign. Ce que je ne puis exprimer, je le montre au doigt:
Verum animo satis haec vestigia parva sagaci
Sunt, per quae possis cognoscere caetera tute. (III. IX. 983)

De obscura re tem lucida carmina, disait le mme Lucrce qui

Montaigne empruntait les deux vers qui clturaient la squence.
En matire si obscure, si hardiment obscure, l'clair de la significatio illumine une parole qui ne dit qu' demi.
3. Du ct de Freud...
Il est un trait de la significatio que nous avons jusqu'ici pass
sous silence: la figure, on l'a dit en passant, prend place dans
De l'orateur au nombre des facetiae, plaisanteries, bons mots,
fines rparties. Il y a l matire rflexion.
Il faut d'abord observer que, analysant les plaisanteries en
tant que technique accessoire de l'orateur (pour se concilier la
bienveillance de l'auditoire, briller, blouir...), Cicron s'attache
d'abord tudier, comme le fera Freud dans une toute autre perspective, les sources du rire et qu'il reconnat que le plaisant et le
srieux s'abreuvent aux mmes sources:
Sed hoc [la raillerie] isdem etiam verbis [comme la louange]; ex isdem autem
locis omnia (De l'orateur II. LXI. 249).

Le comique satisfait les tendances de l'esprit, l'agressivit ou

l'hostilit et le dsir du bas et du laid (jocus in turpiculus et quasi
deformibus ponitur), le got de l'obscne. Aussi ne serait-il tre
considr comme inoffensif:

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Gisle Mathieu-Castellani
Sed hoc mementote, quoscumque locos attingam unde ridicula ducuntur, ex
isdem locis fere etiam gravis sententias posse duci (ibid. 248).

La significatio est l'une des figures du comique, ct de la percursio, de la concisa brevitas, de l'extenuatio et de l'illusio (raillerie) dans le livre III: l'art de dire beaucoup en peu de mots, ce
que Freud nommera l'effet de condensation.
Mais elle a aussi une autre virtualit: celle de faire surgir le
cach, le latent, car elle cache pour montrer, elle dissimule pour
dvoiler. Elle participe cette fonction de dvoilement que
Freud analyse dans le mot d'esprit. La bonne histoire est celle
qui dit par le biais du comique quelque chose d'interdit.
Art de dire beaucoup en peu de mots, art de faire surgir le
cach: deux traits de la significatio relevs avec pertinence par
Cicron, et que Freud mettra au compte de l'esprit tendancieux.
Dmasquer en voilant. Sa situation privilgie dans les livres du
De oratore qui traitent des plaisanteries signale son activit
heuristique: voiler / dvoiler, signifier plus qu'on ne dit.
Dans ce domaine, Quintilien apporte une contribution
dcisive l'examen de la significatio lorsqu'il applique l'analyse
cicronienne la peinture des passions. La significatio devient
alors figure de la passion. Les deux exemples qu'il donne dans le
livre IX sont particulirement intressants. L'un est pris
Virgile:
Est emphasis etiam inter figuras, cum ex aliquo dicto latens aliquid eruitur, ut
apud Vergilium:
Non licuit thalami expertem sine crimine vitam degere more feme.

Dans cette apparente critique du mariage que semble faire la

malheureuse Didon, il dchiffre l'envers du discours, le dsir
d'union charnelle:
Quanquam enim de matrimonio queritur Dido, tamen hoc erumpit, ejus
adfectus ut sine thalamis vitam non hominum putet, sed ferarum (IX.2.64).

C'est le erumpit qui fait sens: voici qu'un obscur dsir, inconnu
celle qui s'exprime, fait irruption dans son discours. Sous la
plainte, cach par elle, dguis, le dsir.
L'autre exemple est emprunt Ovide:
Aliud apud Ovidum genus, apud quem Zmyrna nutrici amoris patris sic confitetur.

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O, dixit, felicem conjuge matrem! (ibid.).

Point de commentaire ici: l'amour incestueux de Myrrha pour

son pre se dit en clair de faon oblique, tandis que s'avoue en
mme temps la jalousie de la fille l'gard d'une mre heureuse,
trop heureuse.
Ces deux traits sont des quivalents du lapsus, si merveilleusement mis en scne par Beroalde de Verville dans Le Moyen
de Parvenir, o un petit mitron, puis une belle dame tombaient, ou plutt faisaient tomber le masque qui couvrait leur
dsir (voir l'appendice). L'un par la dngation, l'autre par la
voie oblique, les discours de Didon et de Myrrha dmasquent
l'inavou inavouable. Car il est remarquable que dans les deux
cas, les jeunes femmes ne veulent pas dire ce qu'elles disent, ne
savent pas ce qu'elles disent. La significatio dit l'inconscient du
locuteur.
Retour Montaigne: il n'est pas indiffrent que la mditation sur la signification naisse la lecture de la posie rotique,
et se nourrisse de ses suggestions. La critique de Martial, Que
Martial retrousse Vnus sa poste, il n'arrive pas la faire
paratre si entire, vient en contrepoint pour opposer de faon
dcisive ouverture et couverture:
Oyez cettui ci plus ouvert
Et nudam pressi corpus adusque meum
il me semble qu'il me chapone.

Martial et Ovide, peintres obscnes chaponant le lecteur,

s'oppose Virgilucrce, entrouvrant une si belle route l'imagination. Car Et l'action et la peinture doivent sentir le larrecin.
La significatio, qui n'ouvre pas mais entrouvre, ombrage
pour donner plus de lustre, et cache certaines choses pour
montrer: Les vers de ces deux potes [Virgile-Lucrce],
traitant ainsi rservment et discrtement de la lascivet comme
ils font, me semblent la dcouvrir et clairer de plus prs. C'est
l la dfinition mme de la significatio, discours ambigu, pris
entre voile et dvoilement, utilisant le voile pour dvoiler, et
l'ombre pour clairer. Laissant au lecteur un trajet faire sur la
route de son imagination, l'incitant rver son tour, ne

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80

recourant la modestie (significatio-extenuatio) que pour mieux

trahir.... Se trahir.
* * *

Peut-tre comprend-on mieux alors l'oscillation de Quintilien, comme le silence des Rhtoriques sur cette trange figure.
Quintilien et Montaigne nous invitent voir dans la significatio
une modalit de l'nonciation. Allusion, suggestion, insinuation,
elle est la trace d'un discours oblique, d'un discours qui ne dit
qu' demi, confusment, discordamment, d'un non-dit non
dicible. Elle est moins litote qu'emphase au sens que lui donne
le pseudo-Longin, vive impression, forte impression, rvlation
dans l'obscur. Lorsque le pote Chr. de Beaujeu recourt la signification pour chiffrer son discours, il se borne sans doute
cacher au lecteur ce qui est vident pour les amants. ct des
anagrammes et du jargon, la signification n'est alors qu'une figure parmi d'autres, un simple cryptage, dont le dcodage n'exige
nul travail, mais seulement possession d'une cl. Il en va tout
autrement chez Quintilien et chez Montaigne, o la significatio
ne relve pas d'une technique, mais du gnie, comme dira
Gracin.
Il revient sans doute Cicron d'avoir su percevoir dans le
mot d'esprit lorsqu'il recourt la significatio une activit de
dvoilement qui satisfait une tendance. Il revient Quintilien
d'avoir su mettre en relation la significatio avec la peinture des
passions secrtes. Et il revient Montaigne d'avoir su reconnatre par son exprience de lecteur actif, ruminant et pesant les
mots en la bouche, que l'entrouverture tait seule capable d'ouvrir au dsir sa voie.
Universit Paris-VIII

Dire, Signifier: La Figure de la Significatio dans les Essais

81

Appendice:
Le Moyen de Parvenir, 86, Rmission (extrait). ... Cependant le
mitron regardait la demoiselle qui s'achevait d'habiller, et faisait
la litire ses ttons, qui paraissaient mignons et beaux. Il les
considrait des yeux fort goulment, que voici Monsieur qui
entre. Alors le mitron, allant vers lui, lui fait une grande
rvrence et lui dit: Monsieur, voil mon matre qui se
recommande vous, et vous envoie une panere de ttons. [...]
Le mitron, voulant faire la rvrence, trouva derrire lui un
placet qui le fit choir, de sorte que sa devantire se renversa sur
le ventre et montra toute sa pauvret, ses pauvres tritebilles.
Qu'est-ceci, ce dit le conseiller, voyez ce maraud: il se met
regarder les ttons de ma femme, il ne sait qu'il dit, et encore se
laisse tomber! Adonc la demoiselle, qui regardait le paquet
d'amour, le spectacle de l'outil de continuation de nature,
excusant ce pauvre mitron, dit son mari: Mon ami, vous le
devez excuser s'il est chu: un cheval, qui a quatre couilles, se
laisse bien choir!elle voulait dire quatre pieds, mais l'objet la
dtournait.
Rfrence des textes cits ou allgus:
Christofle de BEAUJEU, Les Amours (1589), Au Lecteur (p. 4-6). Rs. Ye 531.
Franois BEROALDE DE VERVILLE, Le Moyen de Parvenir (s.d.), transcr. et
d. H. Moreau-A. Tournon, Pub. de l'Universit de Provence, 1984, chap. 86,
Rmission, p. 280-281.
CICRON, De l'orateur, trad. fr. E. Courbaud, Belles-Lettres, 1956-59, livre II.
248 et 268, livre III.202.
FREUD, Le mot d'esprit et ses rapports avec l'inconscient, Gallimard / ides, 19.
Balthasar GRACIAN, Art et Figures de l'esprit, trad. B. Pelegrin, Le Seuil, 1983,
discours XLIX. Des figures par allusion (voir aussi XXXIII et XL).
Pseudo-LONGIN, Du sublime, trad. fr. H. Lebgue, Belles-Lettres, 1965, XIX.2.
MONTAIGNE, Les Essais, d. Villey-Saulnier, PUF, 1965, I. XL p.251, III. V pp.
871-872 et 880, III. IX p. 983, 995-996.
QUINTILIEN, Institution oratoire, trad. fr. J. Cousin, Belles-Lettres, 1975-1980,
livre VIII 2. II et 3.83, livre IX I. 28 (citation du De Oratore), IX. 2. 64 et 65.

From the Tower:

The Return to Generality in
Montaigne's De trois commerces
Van Kelly
In De trois commerces, Montaigne philosophizes from the
confines of an affective image. It is evoked only at the end of an
essay that seems to consolidate through its description of the
writing place the writer's character itself, or at least the character
of the imaginary scriptor whom Montaigne ushers on scene in
III, 3.1 He retires regularly to the tower on his domain, "d'o
tout d'une main je commande mon mesnage," a characterization present in the 1588 edition of the Essais.2 The scriptor
describes his closed space in terms of its elevation: "Elle a trois
vees de riche et libre prospect..." (828C). This specification,
added after 1588, is a critical gloss of the more general description of the tower contained in the earlier version.
The locus amoenus of the earlier edition is conducive to
reading, meditation and dreaming. The place dreamt is purely
synonymous with the production of III, 3: "L, je feuillette
cette heure un livre, cette heure un autre, sans ordre et sans
dessein, pieces descousues; tantost je resve, tantost j'enregistre
et dicte, en me promenant, mes songes que voicy" (828B). The
modified locus (level C) comports, in addition, an exit: the three

The term scriptor indicates the inscribed writer of III, 3 as distinct from
Montaigne the essayist.
2
III, 3, 828B; all book, essay and page references are to Montaigne, Les
Essais de Montaigne, eds. Villey and Saulnier, 3rd. ed. (Paris: Presses
Universitaires de France, 1978). For a description of domain and tower, see Jean
Secret, "Le Chteau de Montaigne avant l'incendie de 1885," Bulletin de la Socit
des Amis de Montaigne, 4, No. 6 (avril-juin 1966),15-19; and in the same number,
Jacques de Feytaud, "Une Visite Montaigne," 20-50.

The Return to Generality in De trois commerces

83

views or perspectives are truly an ontological chappatoire leading visually from the tower of self-recreation toward the multiplicity of evenemential creatures who may contravene the
omnipotent author in the tower. Description of a place, and
characterization of the nature entailed by place, ensconce the
scriptor in a critical tower, ventilated by metaphysical winds. The
tower is not just autobiographical. Its image would typify III, 3
by relating the scriptor's intramural saying with the extramural
being of the world.
The tower is a haven that the scriptor constructs diligently:
"C'est l mon siege. J'essaie m'en rendre la domination pure,
et soustraire ce seul coin la communaut et conjugale, et
filiale, et civile" (828C). The effort at conquest is reassured constantly: "Je passe l et la plus part des jours de ma vie, et la plus
part des heures du jour" (828C). Beyond the initial description,
after 1588, lies an attempt to impress the tower with a character
distinct from that outside it. The tower is not an unmotivated,
chance image.
Analyses devoted to the image of the "autobiographical"
tower have often relied on the critical antinomy of the inside and
outside. This contrast of categories is assumed ontologically significant in itself, but the contrast between the intramural and the
extramural is only topical, its sense per se is obscure. Thibaudet
paraphrases Montaigne's description of the tower and its library,
but when the critic passes beyond rehearsal to analysis, we
encounter the categories of inner and outer: "... le seul et constant dehors qu'il trouva, ce fut son dedans, son intrieur."3 The
interpretive model may apply to the Essais in general, witness
Jean Starobinski's variant of the inside/outside analysis of the
writing place. Starobinski ends by confounding the antithetical
terms: "Le mouvement se produit la fois hors de nous et en
nous. Il est impossible de distinguer le changement qui nous habite
et le flux des choses qui nous entoure"4 Here, the categories of
inside and outside are signifiers without mutually distinct

Albert Thibaudet, Montaigne, ed. Floyd Gray (Paris: Gallimard, 1963), p. 171;
see also p. 78.
4
Jean Starobinski, Montaigne en mouvement (Paris: Gallimard, 1982), p. 106,
emphasis added.

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Van Kelly

referents. One cannot distinguish inner change from outer flux,

despite the separate etiquettes. The categories of inside and outside are metaphysically deprived: they collapse into synonymy
upon contact with the text. They lack distinction.
Associations may thus be added to associations; the contrast
between interior furnishing and exterior experience may be
indefinitely continued. In Thibaudet's words, the Essais would
formulate a message only by "manque de composition,"
"empilage" of scriptural wealth in the form of commentaries,
paradoxes, interior "songes" and exterior life experiences.5 A
classification into inner elements and outer ones has been
endowed with hermeneutic significance. This relegates critical
discourse to the cataloguing of Montaigne's contradictory selffigurations. We see only those aspects of the Essais that are
already couched in terms responding to those categories.6
Indiscriminate accumulation postpones perpetually the critical
moment. The indefinite variety of experiences entails an
indefinitely prolonged critical paraphrase of experience, associations, life itself beyond the tower and within it. No recourse to
generalization is legitimate, if we accept this critical approach:
the synthetic moment would be foreign to Montaigne.
This accumulative approach to the Essais derives from a
generality to which Montaigne has given a succinct formulation
in De trois commerces: "La vie est un mouvement inegal,
irregulier et multiforme" (819B). Critics seldom fail to warn
against selective interpretation of the Essais in the light of such
maxims.7 III, 3, however, even in its sentential aspect, prevents
us from limiting the scope of our interpretation to III, 3 alone.
Montaigne's entire autobiographical project is explicit in the
inhabitance of the tower. The image of the isolated library on
the author's eponymous domain lends itself to a critical paraphrase in terms of the inner and the outer which confirms what
we expected in an autobiography, the contrast of inner being with

Montaigne, p. 84.
For a critique of the petitio principii in Montaigne studies, see Jean-Yves
Pouilloux, Lire les Essais de Montaigne (Paris: Franois Maspero, 1969), pp. 5860.
6

For example, Pouilloux, pp. 19-21, 32-38.

The Return to Generality in De trois commerces

85

outer reality. Writing the self, one writes the world as well:
every inner sanctum has its explicit version, the outer sanctuary,
and it is uncertain that the two are distinct.8 The hidden equivalence driving the antinomy encourages the supposition of
metaphysical identity.
Moreover, the configuration of the essay orients our reading
toward the categories of inside and outside: the expression "mes
songes que voicy" construes III, 3 as that which contains the
image of the tower. This is a peculiar inversion of categories.
The tower represented in III, 3 is the place within which III, 3 is
written. Inner and outer are indistinct, much as in Starobinski's
reading. It is the writer who originally, in III, 3, collapses inner
and outer, as if to induce us to err. The shifter "voicy" opens a
grammatical space or line of confusion between the two predicates essay and tower, it shifts what is outside inside, and vice
versa, like a Moebius strip. Where is here? Inside the essay or
inside the tower?9
III, 3 is a general sign designating a particular sign or image
that it containsthe tower. This essay is therefore the sign of a
sign. This proposition can be converted, paradoxically: the
tower as textual image is a sign from which issues another

See Denis Hollier, "Le Sige," uvres et Critiques, 8, Nos. 1-2 (1983).
Montaigne's tower, located on the wall bordering inner domain and outer estate,
evokes a further contrast between center and margin. His book starts as a "mar-quetterie
de marginalia," which reveals a writer existing "sur les bords," through his "criture
marginale" (49-50). For Thibaudet, the three books of the Essais reflect through their
three editions [sic] three stages of Montaigne's personality: "Lui-mme l'indique
nettement: J'estudiai, jeune, pour l'ostentation; depuis, un peu, pour m'assagir; cette
heure, pour m'esbatre...." in Montaigne, p. 79, (paraphrased in Starobinski, p. 168). The
assimilation of internal organisation in three books or life stages, and external
appearance in three editions, is peremptory and accidental. Criticism has presumed an
ontology, where there is only free association between entowerment and publication.
9
Hollier notes that Montaigne, who produces the Essais within the library (a
circle of books), produces confusion between container and contained: "Critique
interne? Critique externe? Qui introduit qui dans quoi?" ("Le Sige," p. 58). The
resulting characterization of Montaigne's "criture" as uncontainable ("Il ne se contient
mme pas") and " cheval" between two domains restates the obvious: the categories of
inner and outer, container and contained, permeate III, 3. Why this structure, and not
another?

Van Kelly

86

signthe essay De trois commerces.10 III, 3 is the sign of a sign of

itself.... The categories of interior and exterior confine the reader
to indefinitely convertible propositions; they foil the criti-cal
thrust. The tower is a place of close and felicitous confine-ment
where the inversion of inner and outer, essay and Essais, can
take place. The tower is the place in III, 3 where, in Pouil-loux's
words, the essay tricks itself.11 In examining this essay, we may
discover how it fosters consciousness of its own trickery, a
trickery which I would define as abuse of the contrastive
categories of inside and outside, resulting in the confusion
between one essayIII, 3, and the Essais.
What critical model would allow us, at least provisionally, to
dispense with the contrast of inside and outside when we interpret De trois commerces? A network of generalities, or maxims,
initiates the essay. This network constitutes the first in a series
of critical types that will give our interpretation greater methodological consistency. The network of generalizations, of which
'Les plus belles ames sont celles qui ont plus de varit et de
soupplesse" (818B) is representative, conveys a slightly personalized lesson: "Nostre principalle suffisance, c'est savoir
s'appliquer divers usages" (818B), (I consider this a maxim, too,
despite the first person adjective). The second type, which we
encounter as a categorization in terms of the three associations
in their relation to the scriptor's character, is introduced by a
phrase that combines sentential expression and individual example: "Le mediter est un puissant estude et plein, qui sait se
taster et employer vigoureusement: j'aime mieux forger mon
ame que la meubler" (819C). The scriptor, during his discussion
of friendship, the first association, produces a third type, the
metaphor of the "ame divers estages" (821B). While discussing
the third, bookish association, a fourth type appears, the library
reproduced through an enumeration of its dimensions. The
dimensions are indicated with precision. The tower, since it con-

10
On the relation of sign to the Essais, see Claude Blum, "Ecrire le moi:
"J'ajoute, mais je ne corrige pas," Montaigne (1580-1980), Proc. of an Interna-tional
Colloquium on Montaigne, Duke University-University of North Carolina, 28-30
March 1980 (Paris: Nizet, 1983), pp. 36-53.
11

Pouilloux, p. 87.

The Return to Generality in De trois commerces

87

tains a library, is a natural associate of the bookish matter under

consideration. The scriptor formulates a fifth type (it, too, based
on the library) in the guise of the non existent galleries that he
meditates building. The galleries are absent additions, traces of a
non addition to III, 3. In the description of the tower, I would
isolate a sixth type, this one optical, since the library affords
'trois vees de riche et libre prospect" (828C).
These six types are not entities independent of one another,
awaiting in isolation the accidental culmination of the essay. A
logic connects them and surpasses the categories of inside and
outside. A staged, hierarchical move from the initial generalities
to the final trace of a non addition replaces association and the
ensuing accretion and unmotivated commingling of isolated elements or of pairs of opposites. This move proceeds from the
general (maxims) to the specific (the gallery), only to reaffirm a
lesson of generality (one of the original maxims: "La vie est un
mouvement inegal, irregulier et multiforme"). The discriminations that we make between the diverse forms impart ontological
status to what commenced as a mere juxtaposition of categories.
The contrast of the specific and the general, unlike that of the
inner and the outer, is invested by the scriptor's procedure with a
sense of beingness that, while it does not obviate plurality,
resolves our paradoxical perceptions of plurality. Contrary to the
unstable categorization of the autobiographical project and the
writing act in terms of the essay harbored in the tower, the transformation from general to specific, culminating in a reaffirmation
of generality, establishes a stable, unequivocal practice of the
confrontation with plurality. The inner and the outer, and the
three associations, are categories that are continually exceeded
by the context that they are supposed to organize. The inner and
the outer are intussusceptive; they turn in upon one another and
become a metonymy in which it is impossible to distinguish the
container from the contained. The three associational categories
are, in contrast, vas, open to a universe of elements in haphazard contiguity that continually exceed any organizational
frame. Neither is sufficient to explain III, 3.
The first type in our analysis of III, 3 has the aspect of a multiplicity:

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Van Kelly
Il ne faut pas se cloer si fort ses humeurs et complexions. Nostre
principalle suffisance, c'est savoir s'appliquer divers usages. C'est estre,
mais ce n'est pas vivre, que se tenir attach et oblig par neces-sit un
seul train. Les plus belles ames sont celles qui ont plus de varit et de
soupplesse (818B).

Any one of these four maxims suffices to convey the message of

flexibility. Construed jointly, they form less an entity than an
agglomerate, a surplus of meaning, a repertory from which the
sense of III, 3 will emerge as though from a chaos of random,
sentential signs.
The chaotic aspect of this beginning becomes more evident
as we go down the page. An addition, gleaned from Livy,
attempts to recuperate the chain of maxims with a sense of history: "Voyl un honorable tesmoignage du vieil Caton..." (818C).
Even Cato's legendary adaptability to a variety of tasks cannot fix
the meaning of this flow of maxims, since immediately after the
historical allusion, a personal allusion usurps the exemplary function of ancient Rome: "Si c'estoit moy me dresser ma
mode, il n'est aucune si bonne faon o je vouleusse estre fich
pour ne m'en savoir desprendre" (819B). The authorial persona
is not omnipotent in its own text, however, and the sentential
chaos, again, momentarily overwhelms the intrusive
autobiographical project: "La vie est un mouvement inegal,
irregulier et multiforme. Ce n'est pas estre amy de soy, et moins
encore maistre, c'est en estre esclave, de se suivre incessamment,
et estre si pris ses inclinations qu'on n'en puisse fourvoyer,
qu'on ne les puisse tordre" (819B). Voice in a maxim is
indifferent to the person; the moi is suppressed by a soi.
The scriptor cannot immediately master this multiplication
of commonplaces. He attempts repeatedly and with only partial
success to divert the sentential forces toward specificity, toward
his own example and the examples furnished by others: "La plus
part des esprits ont besoing de matiere estrangere pour se desgourdir et exercer; le mien en a besoing pour se rassoir plustost
et sejourner, "vitia otii negotio discutienda sunt" car son plus
laborieux et principal estude, c'est s'estudier soy" (819B). The
scriptor does eventually reroute the discourse into autobiographical channels ("s'estudier soy"), but he does so indirectly, first
by contrasting his mind with that of others ("La plus part des

The Return to Generality in De trois commerces

89

esprits," "le mien... plustost"), then by describing the nature of his

mind by means of a Latin maxim, at last by converting the first
person mien ( = mon esprit) into the third person, "son plus
laborieux... estude" (= mon plus laborieux estude...). That is, once
the scriptor has brought out the contrast between the common
notion of mental ease and his own individuated notion of it, he
returns paradoxically to a form of generality by endowing the
particular, "mon esprit," with an objective, third person form:
"[B]son plus laborieux... estude, c'est s'estudier soy. [C]Les
livres sont pour luy du genre des occupations qui le desbauchent
de son estude" (819). A greater generality and a mitigation of
individuality are evident in the conversion to the third person.
The Latin maxim accentuates the shifting, ironic relation of the
general to the particular. Its sense applies both to the others who
read for intellectual exercise and to the scriptor who reads in
order to rest from the true work of self-study. For the scriptor,
reading is less a defect than it is a respite needed to restore his
alertness for the more important autobiographical labors. The
sense of the individual is filtered, however, through general
formsthe third person and the maxim.
Thus, amid a struggle to assert particular over general,
occurs the second type informing III, 3analysis of life according
to the categories of the three associations, among which the association with books. This type is diversionary. The associational
categories have their origin in the writer's struggle to master the
initial, unbridled flow of maxims. The associations do not
represent, however, the writer's primary interest, which is not to
study just friends, women and books but to study the self. The
second type is at once a conversion from maxim to associational
categories, and a diversion from the essential, autobiographical
project to an ancillary one. (At the beginning of III, 3, the series
of undiscriminated maxims, considered in themselves without
relation to associational categories, likewise prevented the solid
establishment of autobiographical discourse).
Within the limits of this second type, Montaigne cannot
invest the autobiographical project directly. He must be
autobiographical either by relating the self to sentential generalities of which his person is an example, or by describing the self
in its external association with things (books and, through them,

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Van Kelly

history) and people (friends and lovers). This vacillation of the

autobiographical project is visible as a stratification into sentential [= 1], associational [= 2] and autobiographical [= 3] levels:
[1] Le mediter est un puissant estude et plein, qui sait se taster et
employer vigoureusement: [3] j'aime mieux forger mon ame que la
meubler. [1] Il n'est point d'occupation ny plus foible, ny plus forte, que
celle d'entretenir ses penses selon l'ame que c'est. [2] (because of the
quotation from Cicero) Les plus grandes en font leur vacation, "quibus
vivere est cogitare." [1] (since I consider "l'ame" and not "mon ame' the
antecedent of the object pronoun) Aussi l'a nature favorise de ce privilge
qu'il n'y a rien que nous puissions faire si long temps, ny action la quelle
nous nous adonons plus ordinairement et facilement. [2] (allusion to his
readings) C'est la besongne des Dieus, dict Alistote, de laquelle nait et
leur beatitude et la nostre. [2 and 3] La lecture me sert specialement
esveiller par divers objects mon dis-cours, embesongner mon jugement,
non ma memoyre (819C).

The two expressions of the autobiographical goal depend on nonautobiographical elements, in the first case on an introductory
maxim ("Le mediter est un puissant estude et plein... : j'aime mieux
forger mon ame..."; emphasis added), in the second case on the
linkage with the bookish association ("La lecture me sert...").
The scriptor, in order to instill a more autobiographical
spirit, must motivate and specify the overriding validity of the
association between the autobiographical "s'estudier soy" and
outside life, between the scriptor's act of inscribing and the multiform life of associations which he must, by the force of things,
inscribe. Nevertheless, the act of writing in an enumerative and
descriptive fashion (three types of association) about a polymorphic matter (vie multiforme) may not suffice, even within the confines of this essay arbitrarily isolated from the rest of the Essais,
as an attempt to reduce existence to the confines of a consciousness inscribed in an autobiographically noteworthy room. In fact,
the image of the tower is preceded textually by a discussion of at
least six ideas or topics voiced within the discursive frame of the
three associations. These six topicspersonal versus societal
obligation, the ideal of "honnestes et habiles hommes" (824B),
love contrasted with friendship, style in conversation, education,
and finally the comparison of life to a voyagereveal the insufficiently inclusive nature of the discursive frame: the analysis
according to association with friends, women and books is but a
pretext for the encyclopedic exposition of the world as the scrip-

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91

tor inscribes ituneven, irregular, multiform, exceeding the associational categorizations which the scriptor, the ghost of a self,
has imposed upon it discursively.
The progressive, transformational relation of the six types
encountered in III, 3 becomes apparent in the transition from
maxim, to associational categories, to the third critical type
metaphor. The scriptor initiates III, 3 with a series of max-ims,
one of which leads to the discussion of the three associa-tions.
He then produces a variant of one of the initial maxims: "Nostre
principalle suffisance, c'est savoir s'appliquer divers usages"
(818B) is transformed into "Ce n'est pas estre amy de soy, et
moins encore maistre, c'est en estre esclave, de se suivre
incessament, et estre si pris ses inclinations qu'on n'en puisse
fourvoyer, qu'on ne les puisse tordre" (819B). He then applies
the variant to the description of the self: "Je le dy cette heure,
pour ne me pouvoir facilement despestrer de l'importunit de
mon ame, en ce qu'elle ne sait communment s'amuser sinon o
elle s'empeche, ny s'employer que bande et entiere" (819B).
The scriptor's characterial need laboriously to construct a selfimage ("s'estudier soy" [819B]) makes the scriptor "delicat la
pratique des hommes" and "incommode aux actions communes"
(820B). The maxims of adaptability constitute the ideal to which
the scriptor, of difficult character, has difficulty conforming.
This self-characterization in terms of association"l'importunit de mon ame" (819B)is subsequently linked to a preliminary form of the tower, a form which is for the moment metaphorical:
Je louerois un'ame divers estages qui sache et se tendre et se desmonter, qui soit bien par tout o sa fortune la porte, qui puisse deviser avec
son voisin de son bastiment, de sa chasse et de sa querelle, entretenir
avec plaisir un charpentier et un jardinier... (821B).

The "ame divers estages" is metaphorical beyond its juxtaposition of soul and building. It reveals that adaptability is a term of
comparison foreign to another termthe scriptor's self.
Considered in themselves, the original maxims of adaptability are undetermined: we do not necessarily draw the contrast between them and the scriptor's character. They could
prepare many other developments and so would impart to III, 3 a

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Van Kelly

direction entirely different from the one it does take. We do

infer contrast between maxims and character once a formal,
explicit contrast has been created between the two initial types,
the maxims and the associational categories, but the relation
between maxims and character nevertheless needs to be inferred
by the reader or stated openly by the scriptor; it does not possess
its own explicit form or synoptic image. The contrast of maxims
and character, until the introduction of the third type in the
image of the "ame divers estages," is only unfixed, dispersed
between two forms improper to itself. The contrast between
maxims of adaptability and the scriptor's associational character
finds, however, in the sentence bearing the soul-tower metaphor,
a unified aspect, explicit and formal: the "ame divers estages"
represents in a unique syntactic moment both the adaptability
that ideally should preside over conversational commerces (the
soul diversified like the levels of a tower) and, through the scriptor's elegiac and conditional distance from this ideal type (Je
louerois un'ame divers estages..."), his inadaptability to that
ideal characterial range. The sense of III, 3 becomes more
specific as the text proceeds to manifest its evolution through
types, from maxim, to categories specifying the sense of the
maxim, to metaphor formally encompassing the contradictions
between the scriptor's non associational character and the maxims prescribing adaptability.
This preliminary representation of the tower, the "ame
divers estages," excludes the scriptor from its semantic field. He
is excised from the metaphorical tower, exiled from the paradoxfree exercise of conversational associations. Though the scriptor's "naturel" tends toward lively discourse in society"Ma forme
essentielle est propre la communication et la production..."
(823C)another character trait prevents him from indulging his
nature. Society is not just conversation; it also consists of
"affaires" that require restraint in the presence of others rather
than unrestrained production of discourse. In such affairs or
business, the scriptor is of a "complexion difficile" (820B). The
paradox of sociable nature and painstaking production reveals an
inability to moderate the tendency to produce in front of others.
The scriptor characterizes himself as an eminently sociable being
who nevertheless chooses to isolate himself from society, "voire

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93

chez moy, au milieu d'une famille peuple et maison des plus

frquentes" (823B). He dislikes "non tant la foule des hommes
que la foule des affaires" (823C).
The scriptor's difficult and privacy-creating character,
depicted through the metaphor of soul, induces a certain isolation. This process also foreshadows enclosure in a tower, mentioned but as yet unseen, which is non metaphoricalself-integral
rather than self-deprecating. If the tower in III, 3 emanates order
and undivided authority, elsewhere the scriptor's "domina-tion" is
only an "auctorit verbale: en essence, confuse" (828C). The
metaphor of the syncretistic, multilevel soul routes the scrip-tor
from well-peopled life to solitude, but the metaphor contains the
hint of an inversion in which local solitude would lead the
scriptor to envision the world and even the universe at leisure:
"La solitude locale, dire verit, m'estand plustost et m'eslargit
au dehors; je me jette aux affaires d'estat et l'univers plus
volontiers quand je suis seul" (823B). At such an early point in
the essay, however, there is no place to contain this expansion.
The tower is present only metaphorically as the soul with different levels, a form devoid of the scriptor's unitary presence.
The metaphor shows his character to be incomplete, too defective to be at ease with the initial maxim, "Nostre principalle suffisance, c'est savoir s'appliquer divers usages." Expansion is
provisionally deprived of any outlet beyond the limitations of the
self.
The tower, a replete image superseding its own metaphor,
occupies later parts of III, 3. From a discussion of the importance of books, the discourse changes to a description of the
place where he keeps them. The sentence locating books and
bookshelves also mentions that the library is round: "La figure
en est ronde et n'a de plat que ce qu'il faut ma table et mon
siege, et vient m'offrant en se courbant, d'une veu, tous mes
livres, rengez cinq degrez tout l'environ" (828C). The roundness of the tower which contains these seldom-used books also
allows the scriptor to encompass them in one glance, synthetically
and acutely. The transformational structure governing III, 3 is
most in evidence here, in that the hyperspecification accrues to
the essay from level C, as though Montaigne were laboring consciously to ensconce his figure, the scriptor, in a perfected form

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of specificity, both as concerns dimension and arrangement. The

room is "seize pas de vuide en diametre" (828C). The first floor
is a chapel, the second a bedroom, the third contains "une grande
garderobe," adjoined by a "cabinet," "capable recevoir du feu
pour l'hyver"(828C).
The connection between local configuration and thought
about the universe has already been presented in paradoxical
form in the metaphor of the multilevel soul (peopled house leading to local solitude, local solitude leading to thought about the
world and the universe), but the fourth type, the tower in a descriptive form that transcends metaphor, specifies the truly nonparadoxal nature of the connection. The transformation that the
fourth type procures restores to our attention, through an effect
of contrast, the original line of force established by the essaycommencing maxims. The scriptor has never ceased attempting
to define himself in relation to multiform movement and
irregularity, but upon the emergence of the fourth type, the scriptor enters a self-contained haven distanced from the multiform
life which is the subject matter of his discourse. He has at his
disposal the spiritual, material and intellectual necessities of
existencea chapel, bed, warmth and books.12
The description of the tower entails a categorization of life
beyond the tower; it also induces a characterization of the scriptor, its inhabitant. The descriptive process by which the tower is
produced as imagethat is, the fourth type in a chain of types
founds an ontology of the writer, an autobiographical dis-course
on the agent of the inscriptions concerning multiform life.
Although the notions of inner and outer seem natural to an analysis of III, 3, they are nevertheless nave forms the existence of
which is perceived simply and the articulation of which is thereafter assumed to be in itself evident and significant. The tower,
to the contrary, is a masterpiece of artifice. It is meticulously
derived from prior forms, the articulation of which traces its
gradual fabrication and motivation. It has theoretical unity, since

12
See Alyette Plumail-Girard, Reflets et chos de Michel de Montaigne (Paris:
A.- G. Nizet, 1984), pp. 113-14, who notes that the tower is a "lieu complet
d'habitation." She uses the image of the tower as a leitmotif in her discussion of the
Essais; see pp. 15-17, 41, 81, 113-123.

The Return to Generality in De trois commerces

95

no part of it is taken to be self-evident. That it responds to an

analysis in terms of what is within it and what is outside of it is
less important than the manner in which it fits into a transformational sequence that does not depend on the categories of inner
and outer. The tower, an image that nests the agent of discourse
on multiform life, depends on the seriation of maxims, associational categories and metaphor.
The tower is described in two phases, the first of which, level
B, simply indicates the existence of the library ("Chez moy, je me
destourne un peu plus souvent ma librairie ..." [828B]), its
domestic convenience ("d'o tout d'une main je commande
mon mesnage..." [828B]) and its function (reading, dreaming,
writing). The second paragraph, level C, contains the more
detailed dimensional description of the tower as well as its more
profound ontological characterization. After 1588, a critical
reflection accrues. The material description of the tower characterizes the scriptor's method in that it lends unity only to the
scriptor's inscribing of self, not to the data which he ascribes to
multiform life. The place is specified in this manner in order to
build the scriptor's character. The scriptor seems finally to have
expulsed all but autobiography from his writing. He appears to
have mastered the sentential forces that had heretofore
prevented his own accomplishment. Though the tower creates a
beingthe scriptor self-inscribingit provides only an associational, insufficient, taxinomic frame for the irregular life of associations which extends indefinitely beyond the claustral, selfinforming space. Through a description of the characteristics
informing his solace in the tower, the scriptor divulges a
metaphysics of closed space: his self-representation is the nexus
of dream ("mes songes...") and substantive being ("mes songes
que voicy," vague dreams materialized as a text contained in the
tower). Self-representation seems to have produced, in the
dimensionally precise image of the tower, a higher form that
transcends multiform life.
The essay, up to the point where the scriptor divulges the
fourth type (the tower in its actual dimensional aspects), may be
recapitulated in stages, each typified by a form. The first is the
sentential orientation wherein the maxim of adaptability is introduced. The second stage is the discussion of the associations,

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Van Kelly

wherein the scriptor is represented as an individual dissonance in

relation to the universal ideal of adaptability. In a third stage,
the tower occurs as a metaphora soul with different levels. This
is a figure of stratification that helps him to delineate and adorn
his opinions: the metaphor, foreign to the scriptor's character
though not to his aspirations, evidences by formal contrast his
associational "importunit," his inaptness to discuss the subject
matter of the essay in which he is embedded. The fourth stage
contains the transformation of metaphor into image, of "ame
divers estages" into "librairie," of place description into selfcharacterization. Through the effects wrought by the oniric
enclosure, that is, through ontological imagining incorporated in
the text, the scriptor's sentential pronouncements, importunate
character and difficult associations are now perceived as pretexts to the fictional logic of the tower.
The dimensionally precise image of the towerthe fourth
type to be produced in III, 3does not appear until the latter part
of the essay and allows the scriptora figure of consciousness of
the text in its totality, before, during and after its enunciationto
capture the reader, implicating him or her in the preceding transformation of the general maxim into specific, dimensionallyimaged form. The maxim of adaptability at the beginning of the
essay, the associational categories, and the metaphor of the soul
with different levels, prepare the affective ground for the image
of the tower as the text place which generates consciousness of a
self that is within the scriptor yet beyond him. The reader,
previously "exstance," is now in-stance, a component of the text,
figured by the ghostlike secretary to whom the scriptor dictates
III, 3 itself.13 Autobiography has acquired an inscribed public.
Although the imaged tower provides a place conducive to
the evolution of the autobiographical project, it also has the
potential to dissipate the efforts at self-building. If the tower and
the union it contains are real, the image also has a Utopian
adjunct, which constitutes the fifth type in III, 3:

13
For the notion of "exstance," see Gaston Bachelard, La Potique de
l'espace, 2nd. ed. (Paris: PUF, 1958), p. 184. Thibaudet, p. 78, and PlumailGirard, p. 114, note the use of the verb "dicte" to indicate the secretary's presence in the
library.

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97

Et, si je ne craignoy non plus le soing que la despense, le soing qui me

chasse de toute besongne, je pourray facilement coudre chaque cost une
gallerie de cent pas de long et douze de large, plein pied, ayant trouv
tous les murs montez pour autre usage, la hauteur qu'il me faut. Tout
lieu retir requiert un proumenoir. Mes penses dorment, si je les assis
(828C).

The non existent galleries are less missing characters of the

building than a means of heightening our perception of the tower
as an artificial construct of primarily theoretical and not
autobiographical import. Its theoretical import is quite evident
since the pragmatic disadvantages of the bookish association
exercised in the library have been made explicit even in the 1588
edition: "... Tame s'y exerce, mais le corps, duquel je n'ay non
plus oubli le soing, demeure ce pendant sans action, s'atterre et
s'attriste" (829B). A penalty must be paid for removing oneself
from multiform life to the tower, yet in 1588, it only devaluated
the third, bookish association.
The modifications that level C brings to the depiction of the
writing place inflect the sense of the library. Detailing transforms the tower into what seems to be the culmination of the
conversion from one mode of signifying, the sentential generality,
to another, the dimensional and structural specification in which
the tower is described. This progressive increase in the dimensional specification and significance of the claustral tower
modifies, too, the reverberative economy of HI, 3. The
autobiographical project emerges distinctly, the reader is
incorporated in the writing space as a witness to autobiography.
However, given this increased specificity of the claustral image
within the post-1588 III, 3, any attempt to sap the structural
integrity of the towera suggestion, for instance, that its dimensions are over-reduced, that its structure is deficient or in some
way lacking, that the mind finds there its recreation to the detriment of the bodyis of greater import than in prior editions. The
absent galleries now devaluate, in addition to the third association, the ontological effect that the tower exerts on both scriptor
and reader: the independence from multiform life and the distance from it, which residence in the tower has made them prize,
are now in doubt.
The imaginary galleries, on level C, expulse scriptor and
reader from a library in which the bookish association had

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Van Kelly

previously evolved without distractions, but the galleries also

expulse them from a certain form of consciousnessconsciousness of the association of writing act and reading act within a
space devoted to the production of the autobiographical text.
They are expulsed, ultimately, from consciousness of the inside as
a mode of being in opposition to the outside. The galleries, in a
utopian specificity that mocks the extant dimensions of the tower
("... chaque cost une gallerie de cent pas de long et douze de
large..."), exclude from legitimacy a prior state of mind, because
in that state, the mind undergoes a forgetfulness of the body to
which, like the imaginary galleries, it is sewn: the ultimate sense
of III, 3 is not the articulation of inside to outside; it is rather the
refusal of that articulation. One cannot be, if one is in opposition
to an outside of multiform life, if one consents to separate inner
sanctum from outer world. The galleries denounce the ontological, autobiographical ambitions which the scriptor originally harbored for the contrastive categories of inside and outside.
In expulsing scriptor and reader beyond the categorical confines of the tower in which the antinomy of inner and outer once
seemed a cogent way to analyze the relation between self and
multiform life, the galleries force us to seek other means for
completing our anaysis of III, 3, another fashion of understanding the relation of writing act to autobiographical project.
Neither the scriptor nor the inscribed reader can escape the
multiform life which exceeds the limits of the tower. The topical
forging of the self which the library localizes braces them against
the pressures of producing conversation in the open world of
associations. The closed space is extruded; it is already outside.
It exhibits multiform, associational, extramural values at the
expense of univocal, creative, intramural ones. The tower houses
a contrast between topical and Utopian considerations. The analysis of the three associations, and the description of the extant
tower in its dimensions and array, are topical. The galleries are
Utopian. The contrast anticipates with trepidation the multiplicity of experiences, of topics, of movements which lie in wait
for scriptor and inscribed reader beyond the closed space, a multiplicity that the scriptor's act of inscribing this essay within
imagined walls only factitiously excluded. Once again, the maxim

The Return to Generality in De trois commerces

99

of multiform life has disputed the autobiographical project and

postponed it.
Moreover, the contrast anticipates multiplicities beyond the
closed space, but it does not attempt to specify them, once the
frame of the three forms of association has proven too restrictive to
represent life property as a multiform entity. Consciousness of life
beyond those walls is curiously abstract, and not just because
multiform life is expressed sententially in III, 3. After 1588, the
sixth and ultimate type in III, 3 expresses life as a visual abstraction as well as a sentential one. Champion has noted that
Montaigne relates impersonally what he sees from the tower: "...
il ne trouve pas un mot aimable pour sa colline, pour la rivire
qui en baigne le pied, pour l'horizon qu'il dcouvre du haut de sa
tour."14 More significant is how this blank horizon is given context in III, 3. The immediate foreground of the scriptor's sight is
highly specific. It depicts the interior of the tower with three
levels, its five shelves in circular array, its sixteen foot diameter,
its three horizontal views. (In addition to these views, the library
also "vient m'offrant en se courbant, d'une veu, tous mes livres,"
but the galleries, paradoxically, would remove him, through
exercise, from this bookish perspective: "Tout lieu retir requiert
un proumenoir. Mes penses dorment, si je les assis. Mon esprit
ne va, si les jambes ne l'agitent. Ceux qui estudient sans livre, en
sont tous l" [828C], [emphasis added]). In the middle ground
(situated on a lower plane, and oriented away from the other two
views) is a dimensional specification of the array of Montaigne's
domain, behind the tower: "Je suis sur l'entre et vois soubs moy
mon jardin, ma basse court, ma court, et dans la pluspart des
membres de ma maison" (828B). On the highest plane, to the
front of the tower, we see the "trois veus de riche et libre prospect"; but what riches does he see from the tower, that place of
circumspection? What prospects does he envision? The farreaching horizontal view from the tower is both dimensionless
and unspecified, except in the form of the maxim of multiform
life, itself an abundant generality.
The sixth type, three views on an abstract countryside, confirms the tendency of the fifth type, the imaginary gallery extend14

Edme Champion, Introduction aux Essais de Montaigne (Paris: A. Colin,

1900), p. 35, as quoted in Thibaudet, p. 171.

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Van Kelly

ing back to multiform life. The gallery does indeed signal,

though unexpectedly, the reversion from the specific description
of the tower itself to the general, sentential tenor that characterized, through the series of maxims, the beginning of III, 3. In
1588, the essay reads thus, with neither galleries nor blank
panoramas:
Chez moy, je me destourne un peu plus souvent ma librairie, d'o tout
d'une main je commande mon mesnage. Je suis sur l'entre et vois soubs
moy mon jardin, ma basse court, ma court et dans la pluspart des
membres de ma maison. L, je feuillette cette heure un livre, cette
heure un autre, sans ordre et sans dessein, pieces des-cousues; tantost
je resve, tantost j'enregistre et dicte, en me promenant, mes songes
que voicy. Si quelqu'un me dict que c'est avil-lir les muses de s'en servir
seulement de jouet et de passe-temps, il ne sait pas, comme moy,
combien vaut le plaisir... (828-829B).15

In this earlier version, neither does the horizontal panorama in

which evolves multiform life exist, nor does one encounter in
highly specified form the foreground, that is, the autobiographical place where the writing act occurs. The formal categories of
inside and outside have free, indefinite play in the 1588 edition
and prior, since there is no alternate set of categoriesthe general and the specificto limit their semantic expansion. The
metaphysical warp of the general contested by the specific has
not yet been woven into the fabric of III, 3, and the way of seeing
things within the tower and without the tower has been neither
restricted nor invalidated.
Episodic, heterological stylethe text as oscillation between a
primary, private sense and a multiplicity of contravening, public
sensescontests the univocal nature of the tower in De trois commerces. Isolation in the closed space permits the enclosed
inhabitant, whom the inscribed reader accompanies, to
synthesize a seeming world order in the form of an essay on the
constant succession of personal, social, familial and bookish
interactions. Therein, multiform life is a temporarily structured
disorder, a character imposed on the flux of events and associations.
15
1588 version as verified in F. Strowski and F. Gebelin, eds., Les Essais de
Michel de Montaigne, publis d'aprs l'exemplaire de Bordeaux... (Bordeaux: F. Pech,
1919), III, 53-55; and in H. Motheau and D. Jouaust, eds., Les Essais de Montaigne,
publis d'aprs l'dition de 1588, avec les variantes de 1595..., V (Paris: Librairie des
Bibliophiles, 1887), 229-231.

The Return to Generality in De trois commerces

101

Discontinuity and disruption occur when the inhabitant must

proceed to live in the world as he has supposedly ordered it
intramurally. The scriptor, and with him, the reader, cease to be
primal essencesthe demigods ensconced in the libraryand
become existence, contingency, accident, creatures. The language of diversity which the scriptor uses to describe the virtual
galleries mimics the specificity of the description of the claustral
habitat and thereby puts into doubt the foundations of the
enclosure, its stability through autobiography. Author and
readerbecome scriptor and lector, textual momentsgravitate
toward this structured and newly-generated center of characterial
stability, the motionless tower of repose, only to find a
simulacrum of its specificity, the imaginary galleries that route
them back ineluctably to the instability of multiform life. III, 3 is
but a writerly reflection of this lifelike process: a highly specified
provisional structuration, followed by a necessary dissolution of
structure and a return to generality.
De trois commerces is a text both centered and
generalizedcentered in the specific descriptive order of the
solitary tower, generalized as a sentential, multivalent discourse
on the disordered world. The maxim naturally comes to
dominate Montaigne's open discourse, for only the maxim is multifarious enough to coordinate all exceptions in a general signifying mode. The maxim is a language the limits of which can never
be exceeded. In a reversal of the initial movement in this essay
from general to specific, the scriptor finally has produced a form
thus general enough to be complete unto itself. The maxim is
semantically and ontologically valid, because, being inclusive of
all the sentences that the scriptor can generate from it, it is inclusive as well of all the criteria of being to which the scriptor
ascribes: all of life's specific movements and irregularities fulfill
the maxim and accomplish its sense. The most individualistic of
writers, whose production accords value to the exceptions that
articulate life into an encyclopedia of experiences, nevertheless
adopts the exception as a rule: "La vie est un mouvement inegal,
irregulier et multiforme." The general subordinates the specific
and forces the specific to accomplish the general, whereas the
inner never escapes its indefinite reversibility with the outer: the
inner and outer thus become equivalent. They are mutually

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Van Kelly

insubordinate. Their alternation admits of no hierarchy of elements, no motivation, no theorization. The inner and the outer
are random occurrences.
The tower is not a haphazard occurrence of literary form; it
is instead a systemic disclosure of such form. Even within the
tower, the play of specificity and generality, of galleries and maxims, fabricates a philosophical issuance beyond the selfdescriptive and self-assumptive act of writing the autobiographical project. The Utopian galleries disperse into the generality of
associations the act and product of writing, they make writing the
autobiography ("mes songes que voicy") just one more association among many others. Writing the self subsumes nothing.
Like all other specific phenomena, the writing act and the
autobiographical project as they are represented in III, 3 are
atypical. Therein, the final written product, a maxim on multiform life, negates the intrinsic value of autobiography.16 The
autobiographical project is subsumed by the greatest of generalities, a maxim signifying an all-pervasive, impersonal mode of
being which designates not the scriptor's specificity in the tower,
but vie multiforme.
University of Kansas

16
Cf. Floyd Gray, La Balance de Montaigne: Exagium/Essai (Paris: Nizet,
1982), pp. 128-139. For Gray, III, 3 is a "tombeau de lectures." He considers that the
withering of reading pleasure leads to the main autobiographical project - the
meditation of death.

Montaigne's Dutiful Daughter

Richard L. Regosin
J'tais sa fille, je suis
son spulcre, j'tais
son second tre, je
suis ses cendres.
Marie de Gournay

I
When Socrates explains to Phaedrus why speech is superior
to writing, he challenges the written word where it purports to be
strongest, in its reliability and permanence. Writing seems to be
alive and intelligent, he asserts, but if you ask the word what it
says, it can only repeat the same thing forever. And it drifts all
over the place, getting into the hands of those who have no business with it: "it doesn't know how to address the right people,
and not address the wrong. And when it is ill-treated and unfairly abused it always needs its parent to come to its help, being
unable to defend or help itself (275e).1 The written word,
Socrates' own (written) speech ironically reveals, cannot by itself
guarantee the integrity of its meaning and constantly needs to be
supplemented by explanation and elaboration. All writing is vulnerable to misunderstanding, and susceptible to willful misreading, a helpless child faithfully if stupidly repeating its father's
words, but unable in any real sense to protect itself or to
safeguard its author's intention.
Socrates' parable of the defenseless and errant text might
have served Montaigne to gloss the situation of La servitude
volontaire, the political treatise of his late friend La Botie which
had gotten into the hands of those who had no business with it
and had been misused and abused, misread against its author's
intentions to the detriment of his reputation. Reprinted after his
death by the Protestants and forced, in spite of itself, to serve
their seditious purposes, the work betrayed its helplessness, and

1
The Collected Dialogues of Plato, ed. Edith Hamilton and Huntington
Cairns (Princeton: Princeton University Press), p. 521.

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Richard L. Regosin

showed itself doubly vulnerable because its "parent" could no

longer defend it (and himself). If La Botie's meaning was to be
protected and his memory preserved, a surrogate parent was
needed, a guardian for the orphaned child as well as for the dead
father, someone who could reply to the question, "what does the
word say?" As the faithful friend, Montaigne himself responds on
their behalf, in the well-known defense of the closing section of De
l'amiti (I,28,194), and elsewhere, as his poignant claim in De la
vanit infers: "Et si toute force je n'eusse maintenu un amy que
j'ay perdu, on me l'eust deschir en mille contraires visages" (III,
9,932).2
The implications of Socrates' words and of La Botie's experience impinge dramatically on Montaigne's project of selfknowledge and self-portrayal, on the written text he conceives as the
child of his mind, another himself (II,8,402), and they are not lost on
him. If writing and, by extension, representation (and selfrepresentation), are by their very nature incomplete, if they can
never say all that they have to say or that must be said once and for
all, then even the author who says "Je ne laisse rien dsirer et
deviner de moy" (983) has not said the last word. "Je reviendrois
volontiers de l'autre monde pour dmentir celuy qui me formerait
autre que je n'estois, fut ce pour m'honorer" (983), the essayist
declares just before claiming his defense of La Bo-tie, but it is
clear that he cannot speak, either now or later, so as to silence the
voices of his "mis-readers." And because Montai-gne apparently
will leave behind no friend to safeguard him as he did La Botie, his
textual progeny will be left alone to fend for itself, endlessly,
insistently, and perhaps desperately to repeat the same insufficient
words to those readers who would tear him, as they threatened to tear
his friend, into a thousand different faces.
Montaigne's writing thus appears not only to originate in the loss
of the friend, in the desire to compensate for his absence, as

2
References to the Essais are from Les Essais de Michel de Montaigne, ed.
Pierre Villey and V.L. Saulnier (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1965).

Montaigne's Dutiful Daughter

105

many critics have claimed, but in a sense it projects that loss and
its consequences into the future, beyond the writing, into the
reading.3 The plaintive cry "O un amy!" which echoes in De la
vanit (III,9,981), not only sounds Montaigne's regret and his
longing for companionship, it anticipates as well the loneliness
which will accompany his progeny: "Si bonnes enseignes je
savois quelqu'un qui me fut propre, certes je l'irois trouver bien
loing; car la douceur d'une sortable et agreable compaignie ne se
peut assez acheter mon gr. O un amy! Combien est vraye
cette ancienne sentence, que l'usage en est plus necessaire et plus
doux que des elemens de l'eau et du feu." These are mediocre
times, as the essayist informs us in De la prsumption (II,17),
when few have measured up to the standards of the past or to
Montaigne's highest aspirations. La Botie, of course, was the
exception, "un' ame la vieille marque" (659), and he remains
the model to which all others are compared and found wanting.
There have been some worthy of notemilitary lights like de
Guise and Strozzi, men of uncommon virtue like Olivier and
l'Hospital, the poets Daurat, Bze, du Bellay and Ronsard, and
noble souls like the Duke of Albe, the conntable de Montmorency and Franois de la Noue, but "de grand homme en general, et ayant tant de belles pieces ensemble, ou une en tel degr
d'excellence, qu'on s'en doive estonner, ou le comparer ceux
que nous honorons du temps pass, ma fortune ne m'en a fait
voir nul" (659). Ordinary friendship is a common thing and
should not be confounded with its perfect form, Montaigne
claims in De l'amiti, where the paradoxical words of Aristotle
serve to describe the essayist's condition, friendless in the midst
of friends: "O mes amis, il n'y a nul amy" (190). If this is the

On Montaigne and La Botie see, among others, A. Wilden, "Par divers

moyens on arrive pareille fin: A Reading of Montaigne," MLN 83 (1968): 577597; M. Butor, Essais sur les Essais (Paris, 1964); A. Thibaudet, Montaigne, ed.
Floyd Gray (Paris, 1963), pp. 143 ff; J. Starobinski, Montaigne en mouvement
(Paris, 1982), pp. 52-86; F. Rigolot, Les mtamorphoses de Montaigne (Paris,
1988), pp. 61-78; and my The Matter of my Book (Berkeley and London: 1977),
pp. 7-29.

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Richard L. Regosin

legacy that the essayist will leave to his child of the mind, then no
one will second that offspring, no one will protect it (and its
author) from being misrepresented.
Here history and literature converge to produce an extraordinary sequel to this dilemma. In the space in the Essais that
Montaigne clears of family and natural offspring so that the child
of the mind can grow and prosper unencumbered, undisturbed by
sibling rivalry which would vie for the attention of the father,
another child surges forth unexpectedly at the end of De la
prsumption (II,17,661-62). This child, after Montaigne's death,
will play out in history the role that the text had assigned to the
friend. Marie de Gournay le Jars, whom the essayist calls "ma
fille d'alliance," takes her place in the pantheon of notables that
Montaigne erects to recognize the few exceptions to the ethical
mediocrity of his time. This startling juxtaposition places the
mantle of nobility on a young woman who will be known to the
readers who discover her there primarily, if not exclusively, as the
editor of the posthumous 1595 publication of the Essais that they
have in their hands. How does Marie de Gournay merit inclusion in this context and what does Montaigne say about her?4
The first difficulty in answering these questions is that we do
not know if Montaigne says anything at all about Marie de
Gournay in the Essais. The authenticity of the passage in which
she is named and praised has been questioned by numerous
scholars, some even suggesting that she might be its author. The

4
Marie de Gournay is beginning to receive the attention she deserves both as a
writer in her own right and in her complex relationship to Montaigne. See especially
M. H. Ilsley, A Daughter of the Renaissance: Marie le Jars de Gournay, Her Life and
Works (The Hague, 1963); Elyane Dezon-Jones, Fragments d'un dis-cours fminin
(Paris, 1988) and "Marie de Gournay: le je/u/ palimpseste," L'Esprit crateur XXIII,
No. 2 (Summer, 1983), 26-36; Domna Stanton, "Woman as Object and Subject of
Exchange: Marie de Gournay's Le Proumenoir (1594), L'Esprit crateur XXIII, No. 2
(Summer, 1983), 9-25 and "Autogynography: The Case of Marie de Gournay's
Apologie pour celle qui escrit, Autobiography in French Literature, French
Literature Series 12 (1985), 18-31; Tilde A. Sankovitch, French Women Writers and
the Book: Myths of Access and Desire (Syracuse: 1988), 73-99.

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Villey-Saulnier edition expresses the sentiments of Frame and

others: "Cet loge de Marie de Gournay ne figure pas dans
l'exemplaire de Bordeaux, o pourtant la place n'aurait pas manqu pour l'inscrire. C'est ce qui a fait souponner parfois qu'il
est de Marie de Gournay elle-mme" (661n.). Others have disagreed, however. Taking into account Montaigne's habit of writing on separate pieces of paper and the notational system for his
textual additions, M. Rat, the editor of the Pliade edition,
remarks that although the paragraph is not in the Bordeaux edition, "il y a des signes de renvoi sur la page, et le feuillet a d se
perdre" (1595 n. 10). But rather than attempt to address the
problem of attribution, I prefer to exploit the uncertainty of
authorship and read the passage twice, as if it had been written
by both Montaigne and Marie de Gournay. These readings, I am
going to say, are mutually inclusive, and from their double perspective across the generations and across the difference in gender they shed complementary light on issues of authority, of
friendship and filial responsibility, and of textual integrity and
meaning. And in the process they trace the emergence into
selfhood of Montaigne's dutiful daughter.
II
During the years up to 1588 the Essais expressed Montaigne's belief that his text would be left on its own after his death.
In the passage in De la vanit where he threatens to return from
beyond the grave to set his readers straight about himself, and
where he speaks of his own defense of La Botie, the essayist
acknowledged his solitude and looked ahead to his own absence:
"Je say bien que je ne lairray apres moy aucun respondant si
affectionn bien loing et entendu en mon faict comme j'ay est
au sien. Il n'y a personne qui je vousisse pleinement compromettre de ma peinture: luy seul jouyssoit de ma vraye image,
et l'emporta. C'est pourquoy je me deschiffre moy-mesme, si
curieusement" (983 n.4). Because there is no one pledged to
him, ("aucun respondant," from the latin, re-spondere, to promise

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in return, to make a pledge), no one who has returned his promise of friendship and to whom he could entrust his portrait
("compromettre de ma peinture"), there will be no sponsor, no
one who will respond in his behalf to those who would misinterpret and misunderstand him after he is gone. The text will be
asked to carry a burden it will not be able to manage, to assume a
responsibility it cannot fulfill by itself, whatever support
Montaigne gives it, that is, however painstakingly and fully he
succeeds in reading (and writing) himself. The child of the mind
will, as we said, faithfully (and stupidly) repeat what it says to
those who would interrogate it, but that will not be enough to
forestall the fragmenting effects of commentary and the distortions of misreading.
The 1595 edition contains two revisions which dramatically
alter this picture of the friendless essayist and his soon-to-be
orphaned text. Montaigne had thought first to sharpen that picture. In the "exemplaire de Bordeaux," after "peinture" in the
passage we quoted above, he added, "Et si en y a que je recuse,
pour les cognoistre trop excessivement proclives en ma faveur."
He had already said with a certain bravado that he would return
from the other world to give the lie to any man who portrayed
him other than he was, even if it were to honor him, and now he
repudiates the potential friend in advance, as excessively
prejudiced in his favor. But this marginal addition never made it
into print. Montaigne crossed it out and, more significantly, he
did what he says he never does ("j'adjouste, mais je ne corrige
pas"), he deleted its immediate context from the body of his
textfrom "je say bien..." to "...si curieusement." What remained,
then, was the expression of his desire not to be misrepresented
even by his friends, the statement of his own defense of La Botie as the expression of his friendship, and the openingwhich
he had previously foreclosedwhich indeed allows the
sponsor, the "respondant," to emerge.
The second revision occurs several hundred pages earlier, at
the end of De la prsumption, where Marie de Gournay le Jars

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109

emerges in the textual addition to the 1595 edition to which we

have referred and which bears quoting in full:
J'ay pris plaisir publier en plusieurs lieux l'esperance que j'ay de Marie
de Gournay le Jars, ma fille d'alliance: et certes ayme de moy beaucoup
plus que paternellement, et enveloppe en ma retraitte et solitude, comme
l'une des meilleures parties de mon propre estre. Je ne regarde plus
qu'elle au monde. Si l'adolescence peut donner presage, cette ame sera
quelque jour capable des plus belles choses, et entre autres de la perfection
de cette tres-saincte amiti o nous ne lisons point que son sexe ait peu
monter encores: la sincerit et la solidit de ses murs y sont desj
bastantes, son affection vers moy plus que sur-abondante, et telle en
somme qu'il n'y a rien souhaiter, sinon que l'apprehension qu'elle a de ma
fin, par les cinquante et cinq ans ausquels elle m'a rencontr, la travaillast
moins cruellement. Le jugement qu'elle fit des premiers Essays, et
femme, et en ce sicle, et si jeune, et seule en son quartier, et la
vehemence fameuse dont elle m'ayma et me desira long temps sur la
seule estime qu'elle print de moy, avant m'avoir veu, c'est un accident de
tres-digne consideration.

Let us read the passage as if it were Montaigne's own. Although

nothing in these lines explicitly appoints Marie de Gournay as
Montaigne's future guardian, she does assume a privileged position which bears upon the future. As the only person the essayist
claims still to think about in the world, she displaces Montaigne's
family and becomes a "fille d'alliance" who takes the place of wife
and natural daughter, linked to the father through a private
covenant which transcends the limitations of the relation
between parent and offspring. Marie de Gournay is thus, in a
sense, more than daughter, and that is perhaps why Montaigne
loves her "plus que paternellement." As one of the best parts of
his being, we might imagine that she is rather like the metaphorical child of his mind, a product of his noble soul and of his
writing, an offspring of whom he is both the father and mother,
and one who will represent him and bring him honor. The
emphasis in these lines projects strongly into the future as a
presage of what Marie de Gournay is to become, a future which
is clearly situated after Montaigne's death, evoked as the father's
concern over the daughter's apprehension of his impending end
but an indication as well of the father's own preoccupation with
his death and with what he will leave behind.

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We might also choose to hear in these lines variations on

Montaigne's past, reverberations of his friendship with La Botie, links that were forged, as later in the case of Marie de
Gournay, even before they met, through the mediation of their
writing. The description of the privileged relationship in De
l'amiti in which being was shared reads as the subtext of Marie
de Gournay's entrance into the Essais, and the youthful promise,
both personal and intellectual, that was realized in the all too
short life of the first friend bodes well for her future and for the
role she is destined (expected?) to play. Cast in the future tense,
as an adolescent worthy of great expectations, as a soul which
one day will be capable of the finest things, and among them the
perfection of sacred friendship, Marie de Gournay represents the
fulfillment of the bond broken by the death of La Botie.
Montaigne anticipates the coming into being of the (a) friend
after his own death, in a sense, the return to being of the friend
at a future time when friendship will be carried out by representing the absent partner, and by the loyal defense of the text meant
also to represent him. Earlier he had entrusted his portrait to La
Botie, to the friend who alone enjoyed his true image, and the
friend had carried it off in his death. Now after Montaigne himself has been 'carried off," Marie de Gournay will be the guardian of this textual self-portrait which he will leave behind, this
other true image through which she had enjoyed him. Marie de
Gournay le Jars enters the Essais for Montaigne's benefit, he
inscribes her as the textual figures of both daughter and friend so
that he will be less troubled by his mortality, and less concerned
by what he cannot do in any real sense, that is, return from the
other world to protect himself.
Daughter and friend, woman and friend. Montaigne recognizes the unanticipated juxtaposition, perhaps even that the figure he inscribes is an oxymoron. Twice he draws our attention to
the fact that Marie de Gournay is a young woman: "...la perfection de cette tres-saincte amiti o nous ne lisons point que son
sexe ait peu monter encores"; "Le jugement qu'elle fit des

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111

premiers Essays, et femme, et en ce siecle, et si jeune, et seule en

son quartier...." In defining perfect friendship in De l'amiti the
essayist had ruled out that possibility with one's children and
moreover, as his vocabulary slipped in that section of the essay
from talk of "enfans" to references to "fils" and to the personal
allusion to his own father, the daughter disappeared from consideration altogether. Women too were excluded from the
sacred bond although they are acknowledged before being set
aside: "d'y comparer l'affection envers les femmes, quoy qu'elle
naisse de nostre choix, on ne peut, ny la loger en ce rolle" (185).
But Marie de Gournay escapes the bland indifference of Montaigne's attitude toward Lonor, for example, his only surviving
child whom he names but once in passing in the Essais. Unlike
the absent natural daughter, Marie de Gournay le Jars is brought
in from the margins, in recognition of her extraordinary reaction
to his Essais and what Montaigne claims is the remarkable eagerness with which she loved him and wanted his friendship. For
now, in her adolescence, she too is silent; Montaigne speaks for
her and about her ("J'ay pris plaisir publier en plusieurs lieux
l'esperance que j'ay de Marie de Gournay le Jars"), inscribing her
in his text as his "fille d'alliance," bound to him by their covenant
and a part of his being. But our reading reveals that the
covenant is formed in anticipation of the voice she will assume
when the promise of her youth is realized. Or perhaps we might
say that the covenant is formed in order to allow Marie de
Gournay to speak, and to speak in a certain way, when that
promise is realized, after Montaigne is dead. When Montaigne
deletes the passage we cited earlier from the 1588 version of De
la vanit, he stifles his own voice on the subject of his "respondant" and provides the silent space within which Marie de
Gournay will be able to speak in her own voice.
We should continue to emphasize that "speaking in her own
voice" in the context of the Essais means that the daughter will
speak for Montaigne. In the absence of a natural son, in the
absence of a perfect friend, where the writer and his text stand

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Richard L. Regosin

alone together, and where the text will soon stand all alone,
Marie de Gournay le Jars comes from the outside, and the way
Montaigne tells it, is drawn to him: virtue recognizes itself in
virtue, judgment in judgment, the aspiring intellectual finds the
famous author, the promise of youth responds to the fulfillment
of maturity. This is an affirmation of Montaigne, of who and
what he is, and what he is here, among the other things we mentioned, is the father (figure) sought by the adolescent girl, the
friend of she who one day will be capable of that sacred friendship. Thus a solemn alliance is formed, doubly bonded in family
and friendship, a covenant that is also an exchange. Montaigne
gives the "daughter" his name as father, and his protection; he
gives voice to her promise and accords status by his praise; and
he admits herin the futureto the sacred bonds of friendship,
allowing her to achieve what no woman has yet achieved. In
return, as the gesture of deletion allowsand as subsequent history has revealed, Marie de Gournay will become the "respondant," the friend who in her turn gives voice to protect Montaigne
and his text, who returns the pledge of friendship and fulfills the
promise of the covenant.
III
One could argue, persuasively at this point, I believe, that
like all fathers Montaigne has dominated his "daughter" and
forced her to do his bidding, and that even the voice she will
attain, and that we have called her own, derives exclusively from
him, and is in a certain sense an extension of him. As if the
essayist were going to practice a kind of ventriloquy from beyond
the grave, where Marie de Gournay would merely mouth the
words the father intended, like an alter ego well ensconced within
a traditional patriarchal order. Or we might say, with more or
less the same result but from the perspective of textuality, that
Marie de Gournay derives from the rhetorical and thematic
dynamic of the text, that she is a figure who serves the norms and
values expressed in and as Montaigne's text, an element in the

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113

discursive network of children and friends meant to carry on in

the absence of the father/friend. Marie de Gournay le Jars thus
fulfills her role in the Essais as "fille d'alliance," we might add,
just as all the other historical and literary personages (or offspring) play theirs, even Socrates and La Botie himself. In
either case the autonomy and integrity of the feminine voice is
compromised, subordinated as it has been historically to the
dominant masculine discourse.
But only if we end our reading here. This picture changes
radically when we adopt our second perspective and assume that
the passage at the end of De la prsumption was written by
Marie de Gournay herself and inserted in the 1595 edition after
Montaigne's death. In this reading she is no longer Montaigne's
creation, or his creature, but her own, no longer a daughter to
whom the father (alone) has given birth but a writer who has
engendered herself as daughter, who has inscribed her own being
in the text of the father. The essayist does not speak for and
about the passive, silent daughter; rather, the active feminine
voice usurps that of the father to speak in his name, usurps the
pen(is) and writes herself into the family, the father's being, the
book.
One might claim that only the father's death allows this bold,
unauthorized action, that Marie de Gournay would not have
dared to threaten the father, and to displace him, in his presence.
But it is well known that paternal authority extends beyond the
grave; one always runs the risk of being an insurgent, of contravening the father's will, even when one is only confronting his
memory. Moreover, in this case authority maintains a concrete
presence, embodied in the (male) child/text of the mind who
transmits the paternal word for all time. Marie de Gournay le
Jars intrudes into the Essais to challenge the place of the father
and of the son, she breaches the order of masculine succession by
inserting herself as the legitimate heir and friend and by
anticipating her future role as defender of paternal intention and
meaning.

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I have expressly chosen the active metaphors of breaching

and intruding to characterize the forcefulness of Marie de
Gournay's gesture and to represent her seizure of traditional
male prerogative. She herself will articulate this same strength of
purpose and design in the intensity of her accounts of her first
contact with the Essais, and of her desire to meet and to know
Montaigne. At the same time, we recognize that the challenge
takes place indirectly, in the guise of the father's own voice and
consistent with his style, both textual and personal. We might
want to say that at this stage Marie de Gournay is a ghost writer,
one who writes for and in the name of another and that she is not
yet what can be called an autonomous speaking subject. She
enacts here the appropriation of masculine discourse that Hlne
Cixous has expressed by the verb "voler" (to steal the discourse,
to fly beyond it), and that represents the first stage of feminine
writing.5 The passage in De la prsumption is a presumptuous
theft of Montaigne's voice and counterfeit of his writing, but it is
also a subterfuge. Reacting to the muffling and marginalizing of
the feminine voice in the sixteenth century, the voice of indirection attains a covert, muted and masked presence. This then is a
"ghostly" presence, transparent yet palpable, seen yet absent.
And Marie de Gournay's gesture is presumptuous in yet another
way, for to presume is to take in advance, to speak or to act in
anticipation of the future. Although not yet willing (or able),
because of personal, social or political reasons, to write in her
own name, Marie de Gournay opens the way for herself to
become a writer by positioning herself to fulfill the traditional
roles of the son and of the friend.
In this second reading, "Montaigne's" praise of Marie de
Gournay in De la prsumption and the privileged status it
accords her as "fille d'alliance" thus provide an aegis, a shield,
under which she can begin her long career as writer, and as

Domna Stanton cites Cixous's "Le Rire de la Mduse" (L'Arc, 1975), p. 49 in

"Woman as Object and Subject of Exchange," p. 10.

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115

editor, novelist, poet, translator, literary critic, autobiographer

and feminist. The fact that these words legitimize her voice and
lend authority to her writing might be reason enough to suppose
that Marie de Gournay le Jars added these lines to Montaigne's
essay, precisely at a time when she was about to publish, or had
just published, her first work, "Le Proumenoir de Monsieur de
Montaigne par sa fille d'alliance" (1594), and while she was
preparing the edition of the Essais which would appear in 1595
and the preface that introduced it. A young, unknown writer,
and a woman, would benefit immeasurably from the association,
as she reveals by repeating Montaigne's name in her titles and by
identifying herself as his covenant daughter. The question of
intention, though, is essentially a moot one; what interests us
rather is the way in which Marie de Gournay attempts to protect
the father's word and image, the Essais, and how that effort signals the emergence of her own word and of herself in her words.
The "Preface sur les Essais de Michel Seigneur de Montaigne,
par sa Fille d'Alliance" gives voice to Marie de Gournay le Jars
and to the "respondant" that Montaigne feared he had lost.6
IV
At the time that Madame de Montaigne sent a copy of the
annotated text of the Essais to Marie de Gournay in 1594, contemporaries both great and small were debating the merits of the
work. Scaliger scoffed at the treatment of Sebond, Lipsius
lauded the essayist's practical judgment, Badius his psychological
insight, and Pasquier praised Montaigne as "un autre Seneque en
notre langue" while pointing to shortcomings of language and of
clarity. Various lesser luminaries were shocked by Montaigne's
gasconisms, annoyed by what they considered the triviality of his

Using the 1595 edition of the Essais in the Firestone Library at Princeton
University, Franois Rigolot has republished the "Prface," with introduction, notes
and glossary in Montaigne Studies, Vol. 1 (1989), 7-60. Page references in my text
refer to this edition. We are indebted to Professor Rigolot for making this important
text available and for his insightful introductory remarks.

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Richard L. Regosin

self-portrait, scandalized by his sexual licence and by what was

read as his religious indifference.7 The essayist had responded to
the charges of obscurantism and linguistic abuse in Sur des vers de
Virgile in his 1588 edition (III, 5, 875), alleging that his faults
were what made himself, and he had expressed there his confidence in the integrity of his portrait: "tout le monde me reconnoit en mon livre, et mon livre en moy." But controversy about
his "vraye image" persisted. Marie de Gournay writes her
"Prface" to respond to what she calls the "censeurs" and
"mpriseurs," the misreaders and misrepresenters, and she
responds as well to the call for a friend, "O un amy," the call to
s/he who will respond.8
Filial responsibility (from the Latin filius, son: another masculine term meant to includeand absorbthe feminine) and
friendship (can the two be separated out in this case?) motivate
the daughter's desire to defend the father, but what right does
she have to speak, either to speak for the father or to speak on
her own? She is a daughter who is not even a daughter, a
daughter whose filial status is as much a Renaissance commonplace as it is a sacred covenant; she is a woman friend who
cannot be a friend, a woman who aspires to a friendship that
Montaigne himself admits cannot admit of women; and now she
desires to be a writer and a reader in a world in which men alone
count as writers and readers. To write a preface to the Essais, to
introduce the edition and its author to their readership, to justify
and explain what Montaigne has said, this demands that Marie
de Gournay introduce herself, that she justify not only what she
writes but that she writes. A son, a male friend, would have
taken on the mantle of authorship as a legitimate, natural right of

7
On reaction to the Essais see Alan Boase, The Fortunes of Montaigne: A
History of the Essays in France, 1580-1669 (London: Methuen: 1935; reprinted NewYork: 1970).
8
On the 1595 "Prface" see Cathleen M. Bauschatz, "Marie de Gournay's
'Prface de 1595': A Critical Evaluation," Bulletin de la Socit des Amis de
Montaigne, Nos. 3-4 (1986), 73-82.

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inheritance in the transmission of authority from male to male.

Marie de Gournay must claim authorship, she must appropriate
it, guard and defend it.
In the preface to the posthumous edition of the Essais, the
complex relation between daughter/friend and father that we
have been describing and the tensions that inhere in it both structure the writing and constitute its content. Because Marie de
Gournay cannot defend Montaigne without defending herself,
her discourse must constantly reflect upon itself, it must double
back to speak up for the right to speak.9 In this sometimes dizzying play of mirrors, discourse and meta-discourse both generate
each other and are their products, just as the father engenders
both covenant daughter and the daughter as writer and the
daughter originates the father's true image, and becomes the
source of his (textual) meaning and of her own. The form is
unorthodox, unclassical. The nascent voice of the feminine, and
we should say, the insurgent voice proclaiming its right to be
heard, articulates itself as the complex subject matters and multiple discursive voices, the abrupt shifts in perspective and sharp
transitions, the unapologetic tone. All these elements constitute
what has long been regarded as a perverse, or false, rhetoric, and
this illegitimate and unsanctioned mode of expression posed a
threat to ordersocial and political as well as aesthetic and
rhetoricalwhich needed to be stifled. We should not be surprised that contemporary writers mocked and derided Marie de
Gournay. Where gender alone could determine what she would
call "le crdit d'en estre creu, ou pour le moins escout," the
determined woman writer directly confronted the reproach, and
the sarcasm, of the dismissive "c'est une femme qui parle" (27).
Marie de Gournay's design is, in part, to place Montaigne
beyond reproach, to situate him outside the critical grasp of a
public unequal to his genius, or to his virtue, and to authorize her

9
Rigolot points out the structural importance of what he calls "un double
discours" which defends Montaigne and legitimates Marie de Gournay. Cf. his
"Introduction," p. 17.

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Richard L. Regosin

own voice through strategies of association and resemblance.

Whether the vulgar readers critique or praise the Essais is moot:
"qu'est-ce donc que le dire de la commune?" Montaigne's text is
inherently worthy and its value is underscored by the positive
judgment of a great man of learning like Justus Lipsius. And the
appraisal of this revered scholar corroborates her own reaction,
it authenticates her natural, spontaneous response to her first
reading of the Essais"ils me transsissoient d'admiration" (24),
and it provides the cover under which she now defends the text
on intellectual grounds. By the complex logic of mutually reflecting worth (Justus Lipsius is a worthy man who recognizes the
intrinsic worth of the essays; he is also worthy because he recognizes their worth; Marie de Gournay recognizes their worth as
well and is judged worthy by Justus Lipsius; she is thus doubly a
woman of worth), Marie de Gournay attempts to situate herself
in the charmed circle of authentic readers and to participate in
their privileged insight and authority. "C'est de telles ames," she
says, "qu'il fault souhaitter la ressemblance et la bonne opinion"
(25).
Genealogy also bestows privilege in the "Prface." The title
of the introduction identifies Marie de Gournay not by name but
as Montaigne's "fille d'alliance," and on at least nine occasions
she refers to the essayist not by his name but as "mon pre."
These honorific titles may be Renaissance commonplaces, as we
suggested, but they acquire uncommon usage in this case where
Marie de Gournay derives her identity, her being, her self from
them: "Je ne suis moy-mesme que par o je suis sa fille" (25).
We will have to come back to this extraordinary self-subordination on the part of a woman insisting on the right to speak in her
own voice. For the moment we want to emphasize the rhetorical
advantage of this filiation which assures both intimacy and
empathy. Marie de Gournay's ecstatic reaction to her discovery
of the Essais and her intense desire to meet Montaigne ("apres
qu'ils [les Essais] m'eurent fait souhaitter deux ans cette sienne
rencontre, avec la vehemente solicitude que plusieurs ont cog-

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nue" [24]) comprise a story that is told in Montaigne's pages and

that she retells numerous times. Here in the "Prface" they are
inscribed as the history which foretells the forging of the family
link and the ultimate fulfillment of filial obligation in the defense
of the father.
From within the family, in the name of the father, the
daughter presumes to speak, to interpret his intention ("je te
dirois qu'il a pens..." [23]), and to express his meaning ("je te
diray que la faveur dont il parle n'est pas celle..." [24]). Even and
especially about his most personal religious attitudes, which the
writing may not entirely clarify: "C'est moy d'en parler; car
moy seulle avois la parfaicte cognoissance de cette grande ame,
et c'est moy d'en estre creue de bonne foy, quand ce livre ne
l'esclaircirait pas.... Je dis donc avec verit certaine que..." (34).
In the juxtaposition of the "I" that speaks and the "he" that is
spoken for, the daughter's voice repeats and supplements that of
the absent father, because their thoughts and their souls were
one. Reading Montaigne, and rereading him just now as she
prepares her edition, Marie de Gournay finds herself in him and
finds him in herself:
Et parce que mon ame n'a de sa part autre maniement que celuy de
juger et raisonner de ceste sorte [like Montaigne], la nature m'ayant
faict tant d'honneur que, sauf le plus et le moings, j'estois toute semblable mon Pere, je ne puis faire un pas, soit escrivant ou parlant, que
je ne me trouve sur ses traces; et croy qu'on cuide souvent que je
l'usurpe. Et le seule contentement que j'euz oncques de moy-mesme,
c'est d'avoir rencontr plusieurs choses parmy les dernieres additions
que tu verras en ce volume, lesquelles j'avois imagines toute pareilles,
avant que les avoir veues (45).

Marie de Gournay naturalizes the resemblance ("nature m'ayant

faict tant d'honneur...") as if to lend to her covenental relation
with her "father" the profound and mysterious identity that
nature passes to future generations in the seed that the essayist
evokes in De la ressemblance des enfans aux peres. There
Montaigne's legacy of resemblance was bequeathed to the son, as
we observed; here the daughter inscribes it as her own.

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Richard L. Regosin

The echoes of that other "he" and "I," Montaigne and La Botie,
and of the perfect knowledge each had of the other, reverberate
through this presentation of unity and resemblance, sounding another
aspect of Marie de Gournay's genealogy. She writes herself into her
text as the fulfillment of the promise of her adolescence by enacting
the perfection of that sacred friend-ship announced in De la
prsumption. We saw earlier in our dis-cussion of that passage of
disputed authorship that in a real sense Marie de Gournay is as much
the descendant of La Botie as she is Montaigne's offspring. Here in
the "Prface," with barely a mention of the name of the revered
friend (and perhaps in this way making him all the more present), she
takes the place of this other "father." La Botie survives in the person
of the daughter as the perfect friend; this time he could be said to
survive Montaigne and to keep him, in his turn, from being torn into
a thousand faces: "Il ne m'a dur que quatre ans," she writes, "non
plus qu' luy la Boetie" (51).
In a sense, Marie de Gournay le Jars rewrites Montaigne's essay
De l'amiti as her "Prface," she writes herself into that long tradition
of essays on friendship that reaches back to Aristotle add to Cicero,
appropriating the father's voice, and his role, and making them her
own. Drawing from Montaigne's paean to male friendship, she turns
its conceptual framework to her own ends so that it serves the writer
of genius maligned by his public, and the daughter who will be
maligned by hers for speaking on his behalf. The force of
resemblance that bound Montaigne and La Botieexpressed in

De l'amifi by such terms as "corres-pondance,"

"communication," "concorde," "convenance," "con-ference,"
"couture"here becomes the agency that draws the "grand
esprit" towards "un pareil," "un semblable." Marie de Gournay
is, of course, talking about the ideal relationship letween writer
and reader, between Montaigne and his public and most
centrally, between the essayist and herself as reader, and her
goal is both to protect the "grand esprit" from the judg-ment of
those unequal to him and, by extension, to authenticate

Montaigne's Dutiful Daughter

121

the judgment of those like herself who recognize greatness. We

saw this strategy operating earlier in what we referred to as the
logic of mutual worth. But even more is at stake here. When
Marie de Gournay defines friendship as movement towards a
kindred soul, and movement as the source of being (recalling
Montaigne's words in De l'affection des peres aux enfans: "estre
consiste en mouvement et action" (II,8,386), she locates the sense
of self in the impulse toward union with the other. "Les grands
esprits," she claims, "sont desireux, amoureux, et affolez des
grands esprits: comme tenans leur estre du mouvement, et leur
prime mouvement de la rencontre d'un pareil" (47). This is, of
course, the paradoxical other of friendship, the other who is not
other but another oneself, in whom the self both loses and finds
itself.
The fulfillment of the writing act, like the realization of
friendship, is a merging of understanding, a life-giving union
which is predisposed, predetermined, waiting to happen. The
"grands esprits...desireux, amoureux, et affolez des grands esprits"
move toward the object of desire, open themselves up in order to
make themselves known, seek to couple in that fusion of self and
other from which the sense of being derives. In the selfreflecting grammar of the "grands esprits" as both subject and
object, where the disparity of self and other is already overcome,
writer and reader, friend and friend (the two pairs are purposely
interchangeable in the "Prface"), meet in this markedly narcissistic act whose sexual undertones are unmistakable, as if the
spiritual union must be concretized, materialized in order to be
expressed, communicated. On its own the self clearly cannot
know itself in any absolute way, nor can it be the sole source of
its being; if it could, it would not have to write or yearn after a
friend. But the self can desire and seek that which is most like
itself; it must, if it is to be a "self," look to meet another itself, in
order to complete itself and to experience the ecstasy of being.
Paradoxically, friendship and readingas they are constituted
both by Montaigne and Marie de Gournayare not the present

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Richard L. Regosin

participation in this union or in the fulness of being but are their

aftermath, the experience of separation and of absence, of rupture and of deprivation. In effect, to be a friend or a reader in
the context of the Essais and of the "Prface" is to function in the
void of loss and of non-presence, to confront traces inscribed in
memory and/or the signs marked as textuality (is there a fundamental difference?), in a word, to be forced to remember, to
reconstitute, to resurrect what has been lost. And what has been
lost is not only the missing other for whom one has become the
"respondant," the dead friend/author who can no longer speak
for himself, but one's own self that is now also missing. Like the
isolation and anonymity that precedes "la rencontre d'un pareil,"
the desolation that follows the death of the kindred soul is
provoked by being only half of what one is. Montaigne had written in De l'amiti, "J'estois desj si fait et accoustum estre
deuxiesme par tout, qu'il me semble n'estre plus qu' demy"
(I,28,193). Marie de Gournay rewrites this experience of
cleavage in the "Prface": "Estre seul, c'est n'estre que demy.
Mais combien est encore plus miserable celuy qui demeure demy
soy-mesme, pour avoir perdu l'autre part, qu' faute de l'avoir
rencontr!"(47).
And yet the writing which articulates the experience of rupture and of fragmentation is also meant to overcome it, to be the
means by which the self recovers itself, by which it comes to know
itself (as in the case of Montaigne) or to assert and be itself (as
in the case of Marie de Gournay). The desire to recuperate the
self in this way derives both from the conviction that writing
writes the self into the text ("tout mouvement nous descouvre,"
Montaigne says [I,50,302]) and that reading can read it there. In
Marie de Gournay's (feminine) version of De Vamiti, she
inscribes friendship as the origin, the mother of being, that
friendship which she experiences as ideal reading and which is
also the mother of both writer and reader. The sense of her own
selfhood that she earlier ascribed to her privileged status as
Montaigne's daughter ("je ne suis moy-mesme que par o je suis

Montaigne's Dutiful Daughter

123

sa fille"[25]) can now be named an effect of her friendship with

the essayist and the paradoxical consequence of its loss. And
most profoundly, the effect and consequence of its textual formulation and expression.
In her account of the movement that propels writer and
reader toward each other, in the "communication," "concorde,"
"convenance," and "correspondance" (to use Montaigne's lexicon
of friendship) that results from their conjunction, Marie de
Gournay le Jars discovers herself as "un semblable," "un pareil,"
and she discovers as well her role, and the role of all serious
readers, in the regeneration of the writer. Writing must be a
public act through which the writer makes him / herself known,
through which s/he bears witness to what s/he is to a worthy
reader, a reader who is him/herself "capable de le gouster," "un
homme de bien" (48), "un grand tesmoing" (49). To be wholly
private, or to be unknown, or to be known by those incapable of
truly knowing, is not to be at all, in a sense, to be dead: "Estre
incogneu c'est aucunement n'estre pas; car estre se refere
l'agir; et n'est point, ce semble, d'agir parfaict, vers qui n'est pas
capable de le gouster" (48). After the death of the writer/friend,
Marie de Gournay, like Montaigne, having been a reader comes
to her own vocation as writer. Or perhaps we should say that it is
through the writing that she both seeks and enacts her vocation,
that writing in her own voice is both the call (L. vocare) to
selfhood and its response. Having been a witness to the other,
having allowed that other "to be," Marie de Gournay bears witness to herself, she acknowledges and realizes her "self."
V
Dutifully Marie de Gournay proceeds to defend her "father,"
but there is something so troubling in this defense that she seeks
almost immediately to disavow it. Scarcely a year after the publication of the 1595 edition, she confesses her regret at having
written the preface in a letter to Justus Lipsius at Louvain:

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Richard L. Regosin
J'ai fait une prface sur ce livre-l, dont je me repens, tant cause de ma
faiblesse, mon enfantillage et l'incuriosit d'un esprit malade, que par ce
aussi que ces tnbres de douleur qui m'enveloppent l'me on semble
prendre plaisir rendre l'envi cette sienne conception si tnbreuse et
obscure qu'on n'y peut rien entendre.10

And she entreats him to make certain that the "Prface" is not
included in any publication of the Essais in Louvain, at least
before it is "corrected." Six months later, Marie de Gournay
informs Justus Lipsius that he will find eight or ten pages cut
from the beginning of each of the three copies of the Essais that
she has sent him: she has removed the preface "que je lui laissois
couler en saison o ma douleur ne me permettoit ni de bien faire
ni de sentir que je faisois mal."11 In its place, she adds, he will
find a ten-line introduction:
LECTEUR, si je ne suis assez forte pour escrire sur les Essais, aumoins
suis-je bien genereuse pour advour ma foiblesse, et te con-fesse que je
me retracte de cette Preface que l'aveuglement de mon aage et d'une
violente fievre d'ame me laissa n'aguere eschaper des mains: lors
qu'aprs le deceds de l'Autheur, Madame de Montaigne, sa femme, me
les feit apporter, pour estre mis au jour enrichis des traicts de sa derniere
main. Si je me renforce l'advenir, je t'en dirai, sinon ce qu'il faudroit,
aumoins ce que je pense et ce que je say: ou si je ne say rien, encore
prendray-je la plume pour te prier de m'apprendre ce que tu sauras. Pour
cette heure, dis-je, ne te don-neray rien que mes oreilles afn d'ouyr quel
sera ton advis sur ce livre. Que t'en semble donc Lecteur?

Just to complete the story, this preface first appeared in print in

the 1598 edition and remained in successive editions until 1617
when it was replaced with a reworked version of the original 1595
text. Forms of that first preface also accompanied the editions of
1625 and 1635; Marie de Gournay republished it as well in its
original state in the third edition of her Proumenoir de M. de
Montaigne in 1599.12

10
Letter of May 2, 1596, written at Montaigne's chteau and quoted in full in
Dezon-Jones, Fragments, p. 191.
11
Letter of November 15, 1596, in Dezon-Jones, Fragments, p. 193. The
text that follows, and that was sent to Justus Lipsius in manuscript form, prefaces
the 1598 edition (in the Firestone Library at Princeton) and is quoted in full by
Rigolot, p. 12.
12

Boase,p. 52.

Montaigne's Dutiful Daughter

125

What explains the curious genealogy of the 1595 "Prface,"

its public disavowal and removal, and its diverse reappearances?
Franois Rigolot has suggested several possibilities: that Marie
de Gournay might have realized that its naive enthusiasm was
offensive; or she may have felt that its critique of Montaigne's
critics was too strong; perhaps she sensed that her feminist
defense was out of place appended to the Essais and would be
more persuasive standing on its own; or finally, that by withdrawing the text and taking up its arguments elsewhere she was creating the occasion to speak in her own name and her own voice
(13). These are interesting and insightful explanations but Marie
de Gournay's own words provide a somewhat different perspective. Without alluding to any specific failings of her text they
condemn it as the product of her weakness, her childishness and
grief. And most profoundly her words condemn her, for having
been weak and childish, and for having allowed her sorrow to
obscure her thoughts and make her careless. Marie de Gournay
publicly confesses her fault, and her guilt, she repents of her
action and attempts to redeem herself both by admitting that
guilt and by undoing the wrong, that is, by taking back her words.
This extraordinary gesture may be occasioned by the shame she
feels at the effusiveness of her prose or the boldness of her
criticism but much more appears to be at stake here. We might
insist on asking, "Of what is Marie de Gournay guilty?"
I would argue that Marie de Gournay is guilty of having misspoken and, more seriously, that she is guilty of having spoken at
all. Traditionally, as the daughter she has no right to speak, even
if, as in this case, the father seems to have authorized her voice
in his text and again from his deathbed when he bequeathed the
editorship of the Essais to her. The fact that as the offspring she
has the obligation to speak in the name of the father, that she is
destined to speak in this way, underscores the problematical
situation of the child per se, but it sets in particularly bold relief
the impossible position of the child as daughter. Marie de
Gournay cannot speak, but since she must speak, she can only do
so as the daughter; she must draw attention to her feminine

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Richard L. Regosin

voicebecause she is forced to defend it, and demand her right

to speak as herself, as Montaigne's (intellectual) heiress. Thus, as
we have seen, her discourse is always excessive, always in excess
of a direct defense of the father and always "overstated" in order
to make her feminine voice heard and to give it authority. In
speaking of the father she must always speak of herself as
daughter, she must always center herself as herself merely to
speak. As daughter, as woman, Marie de Gournay irresistibly
displaces the father, competes for textual space (and social and
psychological space as well), rivals and betrays him.
Unless she speaks in another way, in a way that uses discourse paradoxically to deny her own right to speak. Marie de
Gournay's confessional mea culpa and her public retraction relinquish her claim to represent the father and herself; they enact a
withdrawal to the traditional role of dutiful daughter. Her language of self-condemnation, which reflects the historical condemnation of the feminine as weak, childlike and emotional,
accepts that feminine as her own and puts her back in her "place,"
the place contemporary critics reserved for her and for all her
sisters when they said that woman's proper role was spinning ("la
quenouille").13 A domestic rather than a public life, handiwork
rather than intellectual activity, silence instead of discourse.
Marie de Gournay disavows the presumptuous speech of the past
and attributes it to that vulnerability that is taken for woman: "I
was weak, I was blinded by youth and feverish emotion, I was
passive and the preface escaped from me." She confesses in the
contrite speech of the present that she spoke when she should
not have spoken, or what she should not have spoken, but speaking this way makes her the woman who still has no right to speak.
If I grow stronger in the future, she now says to the reader, I will
(have the right to) speak of what I know, or I will admit that I do
not know and solicit your teaching. For now, she is all ears ("ne
te donneray rien que mes oreilles..."), the silent and submissive

13

Marie de Gournay recognizes and refuses this feminine "place" in

"galit des hommes et des femmes" (1622). Cf. Fragments d'un discours
fminin, p. 113.

Montaigne's Dutiful Daughter

127

(feminine) listener, passively deferring to the reader's will and to

his words. Montaigne will have to speak for himself, his textual
offspring will be obliged to speak for itself in the name of the
father, and the reader will speak undeterred, unchallenged,
unopposed, in the empty space of Marie de Gournay's suppressed voice and of her silence. "Que t'en semble donc Lecteur?"
This extraordinary act of self-abnegation thus redeems the
dutiful daughter who would remain silent and condemns the dutiful daughter who would speak for the father. But if filial
deference ensures faithfulness to the father, the reluctance to
speak in his name betrays him. How can the daughter be dutiful?
Only by speaking and not speaking at the same time, only by
denying herself and simultaneously asserting herself as herself.
Perhaps Marie de Gournay escaped some of the impossible burden of this schizophrenic bind by finding another self already
split off from her in the person of Montaigne's natural daughter,
Lonor, who she says, "la chrissait plus que fraternellement."14
Here was the daughter who remained dutifully silent, who did
not challenge the father by her presence during his lifetime but
was not present either to defend him after his death. In a sense
then, Marie de Gournay did not have to be that dutiful daughter;
she could be the daughter who spoke up for the father and for
herself, who protected him by displacing him, and who found her
proper place herself. If in the preface of 1598 she temporarily
abdicates that role to become (like) Lonor, the return of the
original text of the "Prface" and the history of its succesive versions enact Marie de Gournay's desire, and her courageous
resolve, to live the difficult life of the dutiful daughter who
speaks (out).
University of California-Irvine

14

Copie de la vie de la Demoiselle de Gournay (1616) in Dezon-Jones, Fragments, p. 139.

CONTENTS

Vol. III, no 2, December 1991

John Bernard
Montaigne and Writing: Diversion and
Subjectification in the Essais

131

Hassan Melehy
Montaigne's "I"

156

Michael J. Giordano
The Relationship between Du repentir (III, 2)
and De mesnager sa volont (III,10):
Conscience in Public Life

182

Ian Winter
Form, Reform, and Deformity
in Montaigne's "Du repentir"

200

Tom Conley
Montaigne en Montage: Mapping
"Vanit" (III, ix)

208

Olivier Pot
L'inquite estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

235

Montaigne and Writing:

Diversion and Subjectification in the Essais
John Bernard
"Ma langue nouvelle, qu'elle
me livre mes membres."1

Writers in the sixteenth century faced a daunting task. As a

result of the new technology of the printing press, for the first
time in human history instead of the traditional, quasi-oral discourse aimed at an implied "audience" they had to forge a new
criture, a "text" designed for an anonymous reader engaged in a
solitary and, increasingly, silent encounter with words deployed
visually on a page.2 More than a century after the invention of
printing, Montaigne capitalized on this state of affairs in the
Essais. Declaring his book to be "consubstantial" with himself,
and supposing a reader capable of completing the meaning of his
text, Montaigne plays out his intuition that no author can exist
apart from his reader. Indeed, to a great extent the reader brings
to the text an authority as great as that of the author himself. In
the process of exploiting this intuition, Montaigne makes an
epochal contribution to the theory of writing, and the writing
"subject," in the early-modern age of print literacy.

1
Hlne Cixous, La (Paris: Gallimard, Des Femmes, 1976), p. 133. A version of this article was read at the Sixteenth-Century Studies Conference in Minneapolis, in October of 1989. I am greatly indebted to Janet Whatley and Marcel
Tetel for their generous criticisms of subsequent redactions.
2
See, inter alia, Franois Dagognet, criture et iconographie (Paris: J. Vrin,
1973), p. 31.

132

John Bernard
I. Montaigne and his reader

Modern speculation about the audience of the Essais has

been inconclusive. All such conjecture must of course begin with
the prefatory address "Au lecteur," which Montaigne placed at
the beginning of his collection in the first edition of 1580. There
he adopts the paradoxical posture of a writer about to release his
writings to the public yet disingenuously inviting that public to
ignore the book, which is, he claims, destined only for a private
group of "parens et amis " (I, 0, 3).3 Hence a text that begins with
an advertisement of "good faith" at once exercises bad faith by
falsifying the relation of its author to his reader, whom it warns
away ("t'advertit") from reading. Many readers have taken
Montaigne at his word in this, supposing that he initially wrote
for a small group of intimates and only later, after the successful
first edition, realized the potential of a "mass" readership of relative strangers.4 Others see the expressed attitude toward both
book and reader as a governing rhetorical strategy, even though
its actualization changes through the various layers of the work.
More important in the present context is the question of how
Montaigne, or the "author-function" in his text, conceives the figure of the reader"conceives" in a double sense, for he creates
the reader as much as the reader creates him.

All citations of Montaigne are from Les Essais de Montaigne, ed. Pierre
Villey, re-ed. V.-L. Saulnier (Paris: Presses Universitaire de France, 1978).
English paraphrases are generally guided by Donald M. Frame in The Complete
Essays of Montaigne, trans. (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1965).
4
See, among others, Dorothy G. Coleman, The Gallo-Roman Muse (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979), p. 121. Recent critics concerned specifically with the impact of printing on Montaigne's conception of the authorreader relation include Frederick Rider, The Dialectic of Selfhood in Montaigne
(Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1973); Barry Lydgate, "Mortgaging One's
Work to the World," PMLA 96 (1981): 210-23; and Hope H. Glidden, "Recouping
the Text: The Theory and Practice of Reading," Essays in Criticism 21 (1981): 2536; see also, Catherine Bauschatz, "Montaigne's Conception of Reading in the
Context of Renaissance Poetics and Modern Criticism," in The Reader in the Text,
ed. S. Suleiman and I. Crosman (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1980), pp.
265-91; John O'Neill, Essaying Montaigne: A Study of the Renaissance Institution of
Writing and Reading (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1982); and Alfred
Glauser, "Montaigne, ou l'volution de la notion d'auteur/pote au cours des
Essais" in Montaigne: Regards sur les Essais, ed. L.M. Heller and F.R. Atance
(Waterloo, Ont.: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1986), pp. 79-88.

Montaigne and Writing: ...

133

Remarks directed to the reader in the Essais are rare.

Besides the good-faith claim which opens "Au lecteur" and that of
consubstantiality which closes it ("je suis moy-mesmes la matiere
de mon livre," I, 0, 3), Montaigne addresses the lecteur again only
in "De la vanit," both times within a digression on publishing his
book (III, 9, 963b, 965b). Allusions to readerseither his own or
in generalare of course more frequent. In "Divers evenemens
de mesme conseil" he evokes the "suffisant lecteur" who knows a
text's intention better than does its author (I, 24, 127a ), while in
"De la vanit" he lays the onus for any confusion in his text
squarely on the "indiligent lecteur" (III, 9, 994c).5 A more typical
if less direct allusion to the reader of the Essais occurs in a later
addition to the opening metatext of "De l'experience," where
Montaigne quotes one Crates to the effect that Heraclitus' writings demand "un lecteur bon nageur, afin que la profondeur et
pois de sa doctrine ne l'engloutist et suffucast" (III, 13, 1068c).
We infer that such natatory skill is not needed to stay afloat in a
prose of such little weight or "doctrine" as the writer's own.
From such allusions to Montaigne's readers arises the question that the essayist poses himself in "De la praesumption":
"pour qui escrivez vous?" (II, 17, 657c). The Essais display a wide
range of possible solutions to this fundamental problem of
modern, i.e. "popular," writing.6 By far the most serious

On the first of these passages Michel Charles, Rhtorique de la lecture

(Paris: Seuil, 1977), pp. 289-98, bases his argument for an "anamorphosis" or two
simultaneous points of view in the Essais, that of the author and that of the
reader. In "Montaigne's Reader," in Montaigne: Regards sur les Essais, p. 73,
Mary McKinley argues on the analogy of his Latin quotations that since no two
readings can be the same, Montaigne "accounts for the creative potential of read
ing." The "suffisant lecteur" is a creator, as Montaigne himself is the creator of
the texts of the ancients.
6
Montaigne's claim to write only for friends and relations seems borne out
in a few places, such as "De l'institution des enfans" and "De la ressemblance des
enfans aux peres," where he addresses two women of high station directly and by
name. In the latter, however, the fiction is not of writing for Mme de Duras, but
of her happening to have found him engaged in writing "inepties" which could
one day fall into her hands, and thus becoming its unintended addressee (II, 37,
785, 783). While the former chapter is dedicated to the Countess of Gurson, the
expected arrival of whose firstborn has occasioned it (I, 26, 145, 148), Glauser
has
argued, "Montaigne," p. 83, that the passage seems to demonstrate primarily the
unusual degree of autonomy that may be assumed by an author in the earlier
stages of printing.

134

John Bernard

candidate for the rle of Montaigne's ideal reader is La Botie,

the notion that the Essais are a lament and textual supplement
for his lost friend being a recurring theme of recent criticism.7 In
"De l'amiti" the centerpiece of the composition, La Servitude
Volontaire, has been multiply displaced: first, by men ignorant of
the work 'rebaptising" it Le Contre Un; then by his own substitution, at the center of his first book, of twenty-nine of La Botie's
youthful sonnets for the controversial political treatise; and
finally by the Essais themselves, which in their serial extension
inevitably move his friend's works further and further toward the
margins of Montaigne's own discourse. Whether or not this
strong identification of the two friends betrays 'narcissism" on
the part of Montaigne, he clearly believes that La Botie's death
is the beginning of his own textual life.8 Not only does it generate the Essais, but it allows the writer to imagine the ultimate
"profit" he might derive from "la publication de mes meurs":
namely, the possibility that another La Botie will read his essays
and step forth to make himself known to the author (III, 9, 980b).
Apart from the Utopian notion of writing for La Botie or a
postulated surrogate, Montaigne seems to answer the question
"For whom do I write?" on at least two other occasions. In the
same C-addition to "De la praesumption" in which he poses the
question, between the polarities of overscrupulous pedants and
undiscerning common readers the speaker conjures those "ames
regles et fortes d'elles-mesmes" who rely exclusively on their
own inner resources. Such spirits, who presumably include the
ideal reader of the Essais, are then peremptorily dismissed as
being too rare to merit further attention.9 In a related passage at
7

See, for example, Floyd Gray, "Montaigne's Friends," French Studies 15

(1961): 203-11; Anthony Wilden, "Par divers moyens on arrive pareille fin: A
Reading of Montaigne," MLN 83 (1968): 577-97; Barry Weller, "The Rhetoric of
Friendship in Montaigne's Essais" NLH 9 (1978): 503-23; and Beryl Schlossman,
"From La Botie to Montaigne: The Place of the Text," MLN 98 (1983): 891-909. In
"'Leur plus universelle qualit, c'est la diversit': women as ideal readers in
Montaigne's Essais," JMRS 19 (1989): 83-101, Cathleen M. Bauschatz argues that
Montaigne's ultimate substitution of a female reader for La Botie in this chapter
signals the "redefinition of his project" (91).
8

Wilden, "Par divers moyens," 588.

See Hugo Friedrich, Montaigne, trans. R. Rovini (Paris: Gallimard, 1968),
p. 416 n. 280, for parallels in The Prince, chapter 22, and Bruno's Cena della
ceneri, Dialogue 1.
9

Montaigne and Writing: ...

135

the end of "Des vaines subtilitez" Montaigne again seems to

locate his desired reader between two extremes, this time "esprits
communs et vulgaires" and those "singuliers et excellens" (I, 54,
313a). As readers the former would be likely to misunderstand
the Essais, the latter to understand them only too well.
Montaigne's inscription of his reader in the misty middle
kingdom of doxa raises another possibility: that he writes only for
himself.10 In a celebrated addition to "Du dmentir""Et quand
personne ne me lira ay-je perdu mon temps?" (II, 18, 665c)he
consoles himself for this eventuality with the thought that selfreflection is never a waste of time. In the original passage in
which this digression is inserted, he claims that he has owed to
the public only "les utils de son escripture" (664a). Yet in keeping with its title, before this chapter is over Montaigne gives himself the lie. The metatext claims that in his essays Montaigne
generates a self out of the act of writing; it's in this sense that "Je
n'ay pas plus faict mon livre que mon livre m'a faict" (665c). But
already in the A-version (though later in the chapter) he has
asserted that he who violates the word that binds men together
"trahit la societ publique" (667a). We can't help but apply this to
the written word as well. The digression on having no readers
notwithstanding, the acknowledged role of the reader, even here,
is considerable. If the moi is made by the book, the book itself is
at least partly made by the (imaginary) reader. In isolation from
Vautre there can be no essaying the self.
We might compare, on this point, "Du repentir." Here too
Montaigne's initial affirmation of the sole authority of one's own
conscience and his rejection of any dependence on "l'approbation
d'autruy" (III, 2, 807b) are qualified by various allusions to his
intimate relation to his reader, to whom he "se communique...
par [s]on estre universel" (805c). In refusing to repent his past
acts and thus falsify the best part of his life, "[j]e me veux presenter et faire veoir par tout uniformment" (816c). Other uses
of these verbs in the Essais underscore the tacit assumption that
the work is fundamentally an act of self-presentation to an
implied and indispensable reader: to "publish" is to se com-

10
On Montaigne as his own reader, see, La., Donald Stone, Jr., "Montaigne
Reads Montaigne," MLR 80 (1985): 802-9.

John Bernard

136

muniquer. Even in "Au lecteur," when he writes "(je) me

presanterois en une marche estudie," he implies a different style
of self-presentation rather than none. And in the famous C-text
about his boutades inserted at the end of 'De l'art de conferer" he
boasts of the randomness of his self-presentation to the reading
public: "Je me presente... en tous mes naturels plis" (III, 8, 943).11
Enough perhaps has been said to establish that whatever twinges
of (false?) modesty may have actually seized Montaigne on first
offering his book to the public, the relationship posited between
author and reader in the Essais grows in intensity with the book
itself. Even in a late addition like the "And if no one reads me"
passage in "Du dmentir," the anxiety of the reiterated question
belies the resoluteness of the answer. Glauser may well be right
about Montaigne's confidence from the outset that he is in
control of the game. Yet the reflections on readers in general, the
repeated doubts about finding a "suffisant lecteur," and even the
whimsical hope that a new friend will read him and announce
himselfall make clear the writer's reliance for the success of his
enterprise on a reader who reads in the spirit in which the author
writes. The enterprise itself may be an endless one, destined to
run on till life or ink runs out. But for as long as it lasts, it is not
merelyas Montaigne is wont to implya game of introspective
self-analysis. Beneath the faade of fierce individualism is a real
desire to communicate.12 Thus it shouldn't surprise us that this
self-styled solitary reflexive man, ill at ease in the public or even
in the domestic world, can write that "[n]ul plaisir n'a goust pour
moy sans communication" (III, 9, 986b).13 Such seeming contradictions play themselves out in the text of the Essais and serve
to underscore our sense that for Montaigne the essence of essay-

11

Among other instances of se presenter are I, 26, 148c; I, 40, 253c; II, 8,
396b; III, 6, 900b; and III, 9, 991b.
12
For a historicist-political framing of this point, see Anthony Wilden,
System and Structure: Essays in Communication and Exchange (London:
Tavistock, 1977), pp. 88-109.
13

In "De trois commerces," for example, he hints that mingling with crowds
inevitably sends him spinning back to solitude. Cf. III, 3, 821b -- "j'ay naturellement peine me communiquer demy et avec modification" -- and especially p.
823: "J'y [at court] voy de gens assez, mais rarement ceux avec qui j'ayme communiquer."

Montaigne and Writing: ...

137

ing is communication. What is missing in the life purported to lie

behind the book, and most notably since the death of La Botie
took away the one possibility of human relationship, is to be
reconstituted in print. As a writer, Montaigne views communication as collaboration, a two-way road. Virtually the whole argument of "De Tart de conferer," for example, turns on the implicit
invitation to the reader to exercise his own judgment in weighing/assaying his experience.14 Later in this essay I will explore in
some detail the complex figuration of writer and reader implied
in the text of the Essais. But first I want to dwell for a moment
on how Montaigne views his own part in this exchange.
Perhaps the most important point in this connection is his
insistence on the living fullness of the word.15 Quite apart from
his allusions to the parole that binds men into societies, or the
famous observation that "[l]a parole est moiti celuy qui parle,
moiti celuy qui l'escoute" (III, 13, 1088b), Montaigne
repeatedly insists that his writing is speech. The self-deprecating
preface to the 1588 edition, "De l'utile et de l'honneste," stresses
the casualness of the Essais by likening them to words spoken to
the paper on which he writes (III, 1, 708b).16 The notion that the
Essais may have the qualities of intimate speech also informs the
"pleasant fantasy" in "De la vanit" that written words too
intimate to say to anyone can be "spoken" in print ("je les dis au
peuple," II, 9, 981c). Not infrequently, the thought of speaking
the unspeakable is linked with that of a public confession in print.
Speaking to his paper, he can whisper intimate details of his life

14
Charles, Rhetorique de la lecture, p. 298, concludes that in both the "suffisant lecteur" passage in "Divers evenemens de mesme conseil" and "De la vanit"
Montaigne intends a "right" reading, but leaves it to the reader to decide which it is.
15
For a recent anti-Derridean argument against a simplistic privileging of writing
over speech in this period, see Martin Elsky, Authorizing Words: Speech, Writing, and
Print in the English Renaissance (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1989). See also
Stephen A. Tyler, The Unspeakable: Discourse, Dialogue, and Rhetoric in the
Postmodern World (University of Wisconsin Press, 1987), esp. pp. 3-59 and the
paragraph beginning "Ethnographic discourse" on p. 208.
16

Cf. the beginning of the next chapter, "Du repentir," and "Sur des vers de
Virgile," where he adds that he dislikes even thoughts that are "impubliables" (III, 5,
845b).

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John Bernard

or thoughts that even his closest friends must run to the bookstore to read.17
Paradoxical though it may be, the conception of the Essais as
a spoken (or whispered) confession meshes easily with the fiction
that it is a portrait. The sly announcement in "Sur des vers de
Virgile" that essaying is a Huguenot-like public confession is
immediately followed by a put-down of the man who would present himself to the world "en masque, desrobant son vray estre
la connoissance du peuple" (III, 5, 846-7b). Implicitly, the selfportrait is a confession: to publish is to confess, and to confess is
to present oneself naked to the world. In "De l'exercitation," to
the original version's final assertion that the event furnishes
instruction "pour moy" alone (377a) Montaigne adds in the Bordeaux Copy a more complex depiction of the relation of the self
to "others." I should not be blamed, he begins, "si je la [leon]
communique" (c). What is of service to him might well be of
service to others. In the passage that follows he reverts to the
wholly self-oriented peinture du moi. Yet it is still writing, and
writing always implies self-presentation, not merely selfportrayal: "Il n'est description pareille en difficult la description de soy-mesmes, ny certes en utilit. Encore se faut-il
testoner [= peigner], encore se faut-il ordonner et renger pour
sortir en place" (378c). The last sentence bridges the semantic
gap between nave self-portrayal and rhetorical self-presentation.
One must not face the public in a mask, but it is still necessary to
"spruce oneself up" before venturing out. Later the enterprise is
characterized as not only painting and writing but also speaking
("dire de soy... parler de soy... penser de soy"). The peinture du
moi has once again reverted to an oral confession. Perhaps even
more important, the concluding metadiscourse of "De
l'exercitation" reveals that the claim to have discovered the moi
in his close brush with death and thus earned the right to speak it
by his own mouth is founded on an illusion. The subject of the
Essais is constituted here, now, and in writing rather than found

17
On writing as speaking, see Margaret M. McGowan, Montaigne's Deceits: The
Art of Persuasion in the Essais (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1974), pp. 26f.,
and Glyn P. Norton, "Strategies of fluency in the French Renaissance text:
improvisation and the art of writing," JMRS 15 (1985): 93-8.

Montaigne and Writing: ...

139

in Cartesian 'cogitations."18 By presenting that self, finally, as a

"skeletos," he reduces the portrait-topos to the ultimate absurdity. In writing his "essence" (379c), he converts the lines of
portraiture to the bare bones of script. The "self" is constructed,
word by word, in the "nihilit" (380c) out of which the author
writes.
II. On diversion
In constructing the self, Montaigne also constructs the
reader of the Essais, and it is in this endeavor particularly that he
invents his unique literary style. That style is often playful, alternately mocking author and reader. It also entails a high degree
of artistic self-consciousness, reflected in a use of language that
constantly turns back upon itself.19 Whatever ultimate purpose
Montaigne has in writing, and especially in publishing, his
essaysbe it to share his experience of the world, to portray his
private and unique self, or merely to stimulate thoughta minimal aesthetic aim of the book is to entertain. Or, to put in play a
key word of the Essais, to divert.
"Diversion," in its full semantic range from variability to
entertainment to deferral, is central to Montaigne's attitude
toward authorship.20 Discussions of this motif are wont to focus
on "intertextuality," that is, the author's effort (in his own words)
to "se couvrir des armes d'autruy" (I, 26,148c). Less frequently
noted is the fact that Montaigne's self-portraiture in the Essais
often reveals an almost obsessive emphasis on dismemberment

18
See Victoria Kahn, Rhetoric, Prudence, and Skepticism (Ithaca: Cornell
University Press, 1985), pp. 124f.; and Terence Cave, The Comucopian Text: Prob
lems of Writing in the French Renaissance (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979), pp.
271-321.
19
This stylistic element has been termed "bluff by Barbara C. Bowen in
The Age of Bluff: Paradox and Ambiguity in Rabelais and Montaigne (Urbana:
University of Illinois Press, 1972 ), p. 6.
20
R. A. Sayce, The Essays of Montaigne, (Evanston, Ill.: Northwestern
University Press, 1972), p. 137, cites two meanings of "diversion" in the Essais:
Pascal's esprit de finesse and that evasive habit of thought "summed up in the
phrase 'nous pensons tousjours ailleurs.'"

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140

and fragmentation.21 The opening metatext of "De l'amiti" describes an "empty" space to be randomly filled with dispersed
"crotesques... rappiecez de divers membres," the grotesque body
of the essays substituting for the sublime, full, and coherent art
that La Botie's would have been had he lived (I, 28,183a). This
displacement of the subject from an integrated "self to various
membres or parti(e)s, is evoked in several chapters. "De la force
de l'imagination" comes to focus on "Pindocilit de ce membre"
whose autonomous will Montaigne pretends to defend in a mockoration (I, 21, 102c). Defining "imagination" as a creative source,
the chapter goes on to displace that source to a multiplicity of
Others which challenge the will of the subject. In "De la
prsumption," discussing various "parties" or "membres" that
"croupissent" and "se transissent" under compulsion, the speaker
substitutes the motif of drinking for that of sexual impotence,
and the recalcitrant member becomes the throat (II, 17, 650a).
Yet it is important to note that the recurring digression on
members is typically part of a larger discussion of memory. As the
speaker discovers in "De Pexercitation," memory and dismemberment are intimately linked: if you can't remember something, as
a unified subject you are "not there " (II, 6, 376a). This is
precisely the point of the dissemination of the self in Montaigne's
account of his famous accident. Here a journey {chemin,
acheminer) is interdicted by the discovery of the dismemberment
of the moi. As in "De la force de Pimagination," the key is that
the self-conscious "ego" is dispersed to various "membres" or
"parties qui se branslent... sans son cong" (II, 6, 376a).
Montaigne's encounter with death puts into question that which
dies: what exactly, he asks, is "ours" (nostres... nostres... nous)?
Even speech, when cut off from full consciousness, can function
independently of reason and judgment, being produced by the
senses as though on their own volition.
Implicit in this text is the idea that the dispersion of the self
is largely a function of language or, more precisely, of what we

21

For the importance of the sparagmos topos in the Renaissance, see A.

Bartlett Giamatti, 'Hippolytus among the Exiles: The Romance of Early
Humanism," in Poetic Traditions of the English Renaissance, ed. M. Mack and G.
deForest Lord (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1982), pp. 1-23.

Montaigne and Writing: ...

141

now call dissmination. As the speaker observes in "De

l'experience," "Notre contestation est verbale.... La question est
de parolles." Definition is nothing but the infinite substitution of
signifiers, even "au bout de son calepin [= dictionnaire]" (III, 13,
1069b). In "Des coches" the gold of Europe has been disseminated by coins "en commerce," whereas the kings of Mexico
hoarded theirs and kept it "immobile" (III, 6, 913b). Similarly,
the linguistic currency of Europe is held to be fragmented and
dispersed, while the unity of truth renders otiose the quest to
imprint and articulate it in language. In "De l'experience," this
elusive truth is likened to quicksilver in the hands of children
"essayans de [le] renger certain nombre." Just as it eludes their
efforts to mould it to their will by dividing and dispersing itself as
if it had a will and intentions of its own, so it is with those who
strive to reduce the multeity of the world to words: "en subdivisant ces subtilitez, on apprend aux hommes d'accroistre les
doubtes; ... on les disperse" (III, 13, 1067b). In "Du dmentir,"
the announced topic itself is deferred to the very last page, at
which time Montaigne says he will further defer ("remets") to
another time telling what he knows about it (II, 18, 667a).
A counter-theme to this dissemination of knowledge is the
gathering of a book out of prior books. Frequently, the Essais
record the assimilative nature of the speaker's selective memory,
which allows him to certify as "his," his own, the dismembered
pieces of the textual bodies of others (II, 17, 651a). Other forms
of recollected experience are given the same constitutive power,
the act of re-membering often paradoxically identified with a failure of memory:
A faute de memoire naturelle j'en forge de papier, et comme quelque
nouveau symptome survient mon mal, je l'escris. D'o il advient
qu' cette heure, estant quasi pass par toute sorte d'exemples, si
quelque estonnement me menace, feuilletant ces petits brevets descousus comme des feuilles Sybillines, je ne faux plus de trouver o me
consoler de quelque prognostique favorable en mon experience
passe. (III, 13, 1092c)22

His textual self, dis-remembered, and hence dismembered and

scattered through the leaves of his book, constitutes a dispersed

22
Montaigne's view of memory anticipates that of Nietzsche in The
Genealogy of Morals, II,1-2.

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142

body to be reintegrated, and so re-collected, each time it is

perused or essayed.
From one perspective, therefore, essaying becomes a kind of
diversion, confining the dispersed self to a single contexture. On
the other hand, Montaigne habitually resists this easy solution by
emphasizing the need for deferral, for the postponement of
closure before the vast emptiness (vuide, vanit) of a textualized
life. In the confessional overture to "Sur des vers de Virgile" (III,
5, 840-7), which is replete with the vocabulary of diversion, the
speaker confronts his advancing years by averting them.
Increasingly, he will rely on imagination and fantasy to divert "le
chagrin de la vieillesse" (842b). Montaigne deploys the strategy
of deferral on several levels, but his principal diversionary vehicle
is sexor rather its supplement, the pleasures of the erotic
imagination as enhanced by poetry. In seeking to fill the void
opened up by the prospect of death, writing's erotic model in this
chapter is the Mediterranean practice of the deferral of consummation: Italian and Spanish lovers "arreste[nt] sa [de la
volupt] fuitte et l'estendre en preambules" (880b). The connection between this foreplay and the art of writing becomes clear
when the undisplaced nakedness of a line from Ovid's Amores is
said to "caponize" the speaker. It is the menace of direct,
unmediated jouyssance that sparks the praise of its deferral.23
Ultimately, however, diversion in the Essais is associated
with death, an association exploited most fully in "De la diversion."24 As its title forewarns us, this chapter is a study in the
strategy of displacement, a strategy grounded in the need to

23

Among recent studies of "Sur des vers de Virgile," see especially Barbara
Bowen, "Montaigne's anti-Phaedrus: 'Sur des vers de Virgile' (Essais, III,v)" JMRS 5
(1975): 107-21. On Montaigne's borrowings from the ancients in this chapter, see
D.G. Coleman, "Montaigne's 'Sur des vers de Virgile': Taboo Subject, Taboo Author,"
in Classical Influences on European Literature, ed. R.R. Bolgar (Cam-bridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1976), pp. 135-40. (The taboo author is Mar-tial.) On the
general subject of sex and writing in Montaigne, see Robert D. Cot-trell,
Sexuality/Textuality (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1981).
24
As Glauser and others have noted, the connection between death and writing
in Montaigne is intimate and pervasive. See Montaigne paradoxal (Paris: Nizet, 1972),
p. 29, and "Montaigne, ou l'volution de la notion d'auteur," in Montaigne: regards
surles Essais, p. 81.

Montaigne and Writing: ...

143

essayer against the abyss of death.25 In an intensely metadiscursive vein Montaigne explores the elusiveness of signification, the
self-reflexive and asymptotic relation of language to things:
"Voire les arguments de la philosophie vont tous coups
costoiant et gauchissant la matiere, et peine essuiant sa
crouste" (III, 4, 834c). The language of essaying becomes a constant deflection of signifier to signifier, in a perpetual deferral of
the ultimate "transcendental signified," death. At best, language
approximates the truth of things; more frequently it serves to
divert us from it.26 Of all the chapters in the Essais, none
demonstrates so insistently nor enacts so convincingly the diversionary nature of Montaigne's invented literary form.
Untypically, the chapter's theme is stated explicitly at the
outset. When invited to console a newly widowed lady, "[j]'usay
de diversion," gradually weaning her attention from the presence
of death to topics increasingly remote (831b), just as another
time he had redirected {destourner) the attention of a young
prince from vengeance to ambition (835b). The disconsolate lady
never returns in the chapter, but she remains a hovering emblem
of its essential divertissement from the encounter with death.
Over and over again in its own progression, the discourse
deviates and detours from any evident itinerary, until gradually
we realize that there has been none all along. True to its subject,
the chapter is a sequence of perpetual displacements, heading
nowhere. Like Montaigne's book itself, it is the doodling in the
margins around a center that can only be approached obliquely.
Hence, the initial example of diversion, the "diverse" consolations
of philosophy, is at once supplemented by an instance of "public
diversion" prefaced by an adversion to an earlier chapter in
which internecine passions are diverted to foreign struggles
(831c). This is followed by the story of Atalanta, diverted by her
suitor's apples, which yields in its turn to an allusion to doctors
who divert a catarrh to less dangerous parts of the body; and so
forth, each successive example displacing the focus along the

25

Richard Regosin, "Sources and Resources: the 'Pretexts' of Originality in

Montaigne's Essais" Substance 21 (1978): 114.
26
See Dilys Winegrad, "Language as Theme and Image in the Essais of
Montaigne," Symposium 28 (1974): 274-83.

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John Bernard

metonymic axis. But always there is the detour around an

unbroachable center. As Montaigne writes, "A ceux qui passent
une profondeur effroyable, on ordonne de clorre ou destourner
leurs yeux" (833b).
For Montaigne himself that center is identified with the loss
of La Botie. He confesses that in his own time of grief, he had
diverted himself with other distractions:
Ayant besoing d'une vehemente diversion pour m'en distraire, je me fis,
par art, amoureux, et par estude, quoy l'aage m'aidoit.... Tous-jours la
variation soulage, dissout et dissipe (835-6b).27

The one disconcerting exception to this rule of diversion is

Socrates. Here, as elsewhere in the Essais, Socrates exemplifies
an "autre leon." Though presented as one of "ceux de la
premiere classe de s'arrester purement la chose," he is in fact
the only one "d'accointer [= a + cognitare] la mort d'un visage
ordinaire, s'en aprivoiser et s'en jouer" (833b). As usual,
Montaigne choses his verbs with care. Unlike the speaker himself, those he consoles, and indeed all others cited in the chapter,
Socrates alone confronts death as it is, knows it for itself,
becomes privy to it; thus for him alone it is a game. Eschewing
any extraneous consolation, "il fiche l [on death itself] justement
sa vee, et s'y resoult, sans regarder ailleurs." Montaigne assigns
to Socrates the unique ability to see things as they are yet without
terror. Facing death, he "s'y resoult." Frame's translation -"makes up his mind to it" (p. 632)- echoes his rendering of the
same locution in "Du rpentir": "make decisions" (p. 611). We
might say more literally that Socrates resolves himself to death.
Indeed, the parallel with the famous comment on essaying is
apposite. In the earlier passage, it is precisely the lack of such
constancy as Socrates' that Montaigne identifies as the source of
his own art : "Si mon ame pouvoit prendre pied, je ne
m'essaierois pas, je me resoudrais" (III, 2, 805b).28 Essaying is a
27

Throughout the chapter, the restricted vocabulary of diversion is insistent:

divertir, dissiper, destourner, distraire, and so on. The emphasis on words with the
dissociative prefixes de(s)- and di(s)- is notable. Earlier on p. 835 a sequence of
seven lines of text gives destournay, dissipez, divers, divisant, and divertissant.
28
Lino Pertile, "Paper and Ink: The Structure of Unpredictability," in O un Amy!
Essays on Montaigne, ed. Raymond C. La Charit (Lexington, Ky.: French Forum
[FFM5], 1977), pp. 191-218, errs only on his last page, I believe, where he identifies
the "irresolution" of the Essais, whose "formal expression" is their unpredictability,
with that of Montaigne the man.

Montaigne and Writing: ...

145

substitution, a "consolation," for the encounter with death; it

diverts us from that central reality on which Socrates alone can
gaze "purely." It is for this reason that only in the passage on
Socrates does Montaigne name death directly ("le mourir"),
though from the start he has flirted with, approached, and then
departed from this theme. What the chapter is about is diverting
oneself and others from the abyssal fact of death, an operation of
which essaying is the prime vehicle. Linguistically, it is a contexture of euphemisms for death, grounded in the impossibility of
emulating Socrates. Though Socrates confronts the chose, seeking no consolation outside it, he does not speak. Being able to se
resouldre, he has no need of essaying. The speaker, on the other
hand, presents himself as an elusive subject exposed to the gaze
of others yet bent on "deluding" them in the very presence of
death: "de piper l'assistance qui avoit les yeux sur moy" (831b).
And for him, as both essayist and consoler, diversion, substitution, and supplementation are a way of life.
As the chapter unfolds, "diversion" precipitates into supplementation. Instead of merely diverting the subject from the
"thing itself," words or signifiers displace the reality of death and
acquire the force of that which they signify. Initially, the speaker
notes that things in their specificity can overcome him with a
grief that in the abstract he readily controls (837c). After giving
examples of those reckless in the face of death who "fuyent la
luicte" into fantasies of heaven and thus "destournent de la mort
leur consideration" (833b), or "dissipate" the anticipation of
death in the anger of battle, the speaker comments, "Nous
pensons tousjours ailleurs" (834b), whether on earthly or
heavenly glory, hope for our children, or vengeance. Ailleurs, an
alibi. In displacing the fact of death ("ce deslogement," he will
call it, in a typical euphemistic substitution), the subject itself is
displaced.
This reflection leads to a series of detours: a young prince is
diverted from vengeance to ambition, Montaigne himself from
amiti to amour. In the process, the substantial self disappears
into its signs; even language is reduced to mere voice, the emphasis ever shifting from the signified to the signifier, as the surface
of things distracts us from, and supplants, their "vraye essence."
The latter is subsumed into its supplements, like the "singeries"

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146

of Plutarch's dead daughter, which her father recalls more vividly

than the girl herself. Regarding such phenomena closely, the
speaker discovers them to be merely "grammairiene[s] et voyelle[s]." Yet it's precisely "[l]e mot et le ton" of things that wound
him, for instance the "voix piteuse" of a slaughtered food-animal
(837b). Such flatus vocis displace the things themselves in our
regard and "nous frapent" (836b). Like such "vaines escorces,"
these "vains accidens" (838b) distract the judgment from its
serene apprehension of death "en bloc." Thus "une consolation
commune me desconsole," the human touch of voice or hand
shattering the subject's philosophical calm (837c). Metonyms
like these, words and gestures that begin as substitutions for and
distractions from the thing itself, over the course of the chapter
take its place and acquire its affects. In time a lady's screen-lover
supplants the original love-object; an orator or a hired mourner
may be swept away on a wave of fabricated emotion (838b). "I
am not I, pity the tale of me."29 Only man, Montaigne concludes,
is subject to such "inanit," an emptying out of his essence into
accidents. This radical displacement of the self from substances
to supplements raises in turn the question of the Montaignian
subject that lies close to the heart of his book.
III. The subject of the Essais
In a seminal essay, William Kerrigan argues that the
Cartesian cogito is a logical consummation of the "Renaissance
fascination with reflexivity." According to Kerrigan's Lacanian
analysis, "the supreme desire of the ego is to occupy for the
Other the same position that the Other once occupied for the
ego"; thereby it "'pass[es] itself off as the subject of desire when
in fact it is [its] object." Descartes fulfills this thrust to perfection
by having the existence of God depend upon the ego's "own idea
of that creator."30
29

Sidney, Astrophil and Stella, sonnet 45.

"The Ego in the English Renaissance," in Literary Freud, ed. Joseph D.
Smith (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1980), pp. 299, 283. In concluding that the
Renaissance displays a "disaffinity with fragmentation" (p. 303), Kerrigan makes the
mistake of identifying the "Renaissance" too narrowly with Florentine neoplatonism, a
movement in which the resistance to the imposing centrifugality of modern culture is
at its maximum. For a recent political account of this phenomemon, see Annabel
Patterson, Pastoral and Ideology (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988), pp.
62-85.
30

Montaigne and Writing: ...

147

Montaigne's essays have long been recognized as playing a

critical role in the evolution of the Cartesian cogito. What has
not always been acknowledged is the specular nature of this role.
Nevertheless, diffused through the Essais is an awareness that the
self Montaigne seeks to preserve is in fact constituted by
others.31 Consider once again in this regard the ouverture to "Du
repentir." The chapter begins with the speaker voicing the desire
to give body to an ephemeral "subject" by essaying each fleeting
version of himself (III, 2, 805b); it concludes with his standing
outside himself to foretell his ultimate capitulation to "age": "Je
soustien tant que je puis. Mais je ne say en fin o elle menera
moy-mesme. A toutes avantures, je suis content qu'on sache
d'o je seray tomb" (817b). As has been noted, the future perfect of the final clause disjoins the moi from the text by acknowledging a future beyond the book.32 The je who is "content" is not
the moi who will have fallen. The subject is constituted through
the specular act of projecting himself (his self) on to an other, a
reader, who can recognize in the text the grand' ame which
predated but will also survive the "Montaigne" of his declining
years. The knowing subject, therefore, the subject of a projected
connoissance, can only be another who can measure the distance
of his spiritual odyssey, now defined as a "fall." The writing subject, who is consubstantial with and thus confined to his book, can
only "be content"without himself knowingthat his former

31

It is not always clear what "subject" means in the Essais, The word
normally denotes the matter at hand, but it it often equated with the Cartesian res
extensa rather than his res cogitans; occasionally, this usage shades into a
psychologistic one. In "Sur des vers de Virgile," Montaigne writes, "l'amour n'est
autre chose que la soif de cette jouyssance [C] en un subject desir" (III, 5, 877),
and again "[On] les [women] empesche de fermir leur affection en quelque subject que ce soit" (885b). On the other hand, in "De l'inconstance de nos actions,"
when Montaigne infers that the diverse impulses in the soul "ne se pouv[e]nt bien
assortir un subjet simple" (II, 1, 335c), subje[c]t clearly denotes an internal,
psychological entity.
32
Franois Rigolot, "La Pente du 'repentir': Un exemple de remotivation du
signifiant dans les Essais de Montaigne," in Columbia Montaigne Conference Papers,
ed. D. Frame and M. McKinley (Lexington, Ky.: French Forum, 1981) [=
FFM27],p.l25.

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John Bernard

spiritual glory will be known.33

Some insight into Montaigne's efforts to define the writing
subject may be gathered from his odd use of the word tiers to suggest a unique conception of otherness. At first blush tiers in this
special sense often seems to be interchangeable with autre. Take,
for example, the remark in "De la force de l'imagination" that
"[l]a veue des angoisses d'autruy m'angoisse materiellement, et a
mon sentiment souvent usurp le sentiment d'un tiers" (I, 21,
97c). Here Montaigne's use of tiers seems to inject a sense of displacement and alterity into an original configuration between a
subject and an "other" who shares a "correlation of personality"
with it.34 Do we have three persons, or only two? Whereas the
direct action of anguish of one subject on another (moi) prompts
us to conceive the other as simply autruy, the specular notion of
usurping the feeling of another person seems to require the distantiation of naming it a "third."
Other instances of the Montaignian tiers help us to focus the
question more clearly. Near the end of "De l'art de conferer"
Montaigne criticizes Tacitus for lacking the strength of purpose
to speak of himself "comme de chose tierce" (III, 8, 942b), a
phrase that, like "de chose estrangere" in the same sentence,
implies that the self can be a stranger to itself, a third entity neither "subject" nor "object."35 In an interpolation in this passage
Montaigne claims that he himself always views himself "

33

If the existence of the subject depends on others, it is necessarily ephemeral.

A single sentence in "De la diversion," enacts, as it describes, the dis-solution of the
subject: "Tousjours la variation soulage, dissout et dissipe. Si je ne puis la combatre, je
luy eschape, et en la fuyant je fourvoye, je ruse, muant de lieu, d'occupation, de
compaignie, je me sauve dans la presse d'autres amusemens et penses, o elle perd
ma trace et m'esgare: (III, 4, 836b; emphasis added). Sub-jected to and ultimately
displaced by variation in the unfolding of the syntagm, in the end the grammatical
subject is lost as the writing (or reflecting) subject saves himself "in the press of other"
objects and thus eludes the predator, his very "traces" having been placed sous rature.
34
See Emile Benveniste, Problems in General Linguistics, trans. M.E. Meek
(Coral Gables, Fla.: University of Miami Press, 1971), p. 200.
35
Though true to the spirit of the passage, Frame's translation of "chose tierce"
as "third party" misses the sense of dislocation and dismemberment normally
attached to chose in the Essais. See, for example, the play on chose/cause in the
opening section of "Des boyteux" (III, 11, 1026ff.).

Montaigne and Writing: ...

149

quartier [= part]: comme un voisin, comme un arbre" (942c).

Both passages imply that the ability to objectify the self is a
necessary adjunct to self-possession. To be properly detached
from oneself is to view oneself as a stranger, a chose tierce; in this
sense alone can one write of the self, as Montaigne is doing, as
an autre chose. Objectification of the self is not necessarily selfalienation.
Elsewhere, Montaigne differentiates this positive displacement and identification from the self-alienation of others by
coupling tiers with estranger. At the end of "De l'exercitation," he
distinguishes his own project from the dishonest, self-promoting
autobiographical writing of others by accusing the latter of
Vestimants chose tierce et estrangere eux mesmes" (380c).
Critics of the Montaignian projet misperceive the act of publishing the self as self-serving because they imagine that
autobiography necessarily entails misrepresentation, exalting the
moi and thus presenting it as a strangera strange thing, a tiers.
Again, in "Du dmentir" he insists that his book reflects "une
occupation propre [= de moi]" and not one "tierce et estrangere
comme tous autres livres" (II, 18, 665c). Here again, in contrast
with the passages in "De l'art de conferer," we meet a pejorative
otherness of one's self, as of a "thing" displaced, deferred, no
longer "membre de ma vie" but rather dismembered and dispersed. Such are other books, objects wrenched out of the substance of the lives they represent and then presented as alien
creatures to the reading public. For himself, Montaigne insists,
autheur, vie, and livre are "consubstantial," each a membre of the
others.36
Montaigne's use of tiers gives us a clue to his invention of the
modern reader. On the simplest level, that of being a stranger to
oneself, the implied originary or "natural" relation is selfpresence. Even in the Tacitus example, the self as displaced
third party is an "objectification" of the moi so that the subject
can speak of it "as a neighbor, as a tree." The implications of this

36
On the analogous need for a catalytic "third person" in the theater, "who
passes through all lives and literatures... [yet] has no meaning and must be disavowed," see Rainer Maria Rilke, The Notebooks of Malte Laurids Brigge, tr.
Stephen Mitchell (NY: Random House, 1983), pp. 21f.

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John Bernard

example for Montaigne's view of communication become clear in

the context of 'Du dmentir." The entire metatext, as we've seen,
begins on a note of anxiety: "Et quand personne ne me lira, ay-je
perdu mon temps?" Montaigne portrays himself as turning his
inner substance to textual "copy" even as he fashions a self out of
its own representation. "Moulant sur moy cette figure, il m'a
fallu si souvent dresser et composer pour m'extraire, que le
patron s'en est fermy et aucunement form soy-mesmes" (II, 18,
665c).37 As it unfolds, the sentence turns in on itself. The "moy"
of the opening phrase appears to be solid and original: it is the
given, on which the representation ("figure") is based, to which it
is shaped. In the next member, however, this ratio is less stable.
For the moi that is extracted and "composed" is not that which
does the fashioning. A fabricating subject is implied in contrast
to the pliant material being shaped, out of which will emerge a
new moi. The patron, hitherto presumed to be that moi on which
the "figure" was being modelled, has taken shape in the very
process of self-fashioning. What was at the beginning of the
sentence so clearly marked as an originary self, the "subject" of
Montaigne's peinture, emerges from the sentence as a model in
the process of being insubstantiated by the act of imitating ita
true mise en abme. In the next sentence this self-fashioning is
directed to an audience: "Me peignant pour autruy, je me suis
peint en moy...." More important even than the reversal of
original subject and represented object is the clarifying relation
of the moi to others. In the final analysis, it is the reader who has
elicited this self-portrait, a representation that in turn has more
than half created its own model.
In a number of places Montaigne explicitly posits a triangular relationship in which his reader functions as a kind of
ghost writer of the Essais. Sometimes the reader is invited to
enter as spectator into a three-sided relationship with the
speaker (or book) and another, or is made to see such a relationship reflected in a triangular situation described in the text. At
other times the text hints that to be "third" is simply to lack

37
The first word, "Moulant," hints at the connection with printing, for moule is
a common metonymy in the Essais for "print." Cf., e.g., III, 13, 1081c. For a useful
comment on this passage, see Rider, Dialectic of Selfhood, p. 67.

Montaigne and Writing: ...

151

authenticity, and the author's anxieties on this score are projected on to the reader, who then stands to "Montaigne" in the
same relation Montaigne occupies to Socrates and others. When
these doubts surface, the conflict over secondarity and the
autonomy of the subject reaches its most intriguing heights.
This specularity is especially well exploited in "De la
phisionomie." Here, in a sustained examination of what he calls
"nayfvet," Montaigne virtually annihilates the two dominant figures of plenitude in the Essais, Socrates and La Botie, substituting a specular reading of nature in the subject himself.38 The
speaker is cast in the role of an intrepid tracker, scanning Nature
first in the peasants, who display "traces" that our developed
rationality has erased in us; next in the animals, whose paths are
still close to Nature's "orniere"; and finally in Socrates, who is the
principal "regens" and "interprete" in this "escolle de bestise" (III,
12,1049-52b). But near the end of the chapter Socrates fails the
key test of nature because he is physically ugly; hence he is supplanted by Montaigne himself, who insists that his nature is
intact. The subversion of the image of Socrates (La Botie is
bracketed with Socrates as one whose "laideur superficielle"
masked "une ame tres-belle" [1057c]) is crowned by one of the
concluding anecdotes in which the essayist tells how others had
read his innocent intentions in his physiognomy.39 The story
implicitly turns on the motif of specularity: when the hostile

38

As its title hints, it is a "physiognomy" or, in Bodin's word, "metoposcopy" and treats of the face as well as knowledge/gnomes of nature. In her
article, "Guesswork or Facts: Connections between Montaigne's Last Three Chapters." in Montaigne: Essays in Reading, ed. Grard Defaux [ = Yale French Studies
64] (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983): 167-79, Marianne S. Meijer
identifies "metoposcopy" in Bodin's De la Demonomanie des sorciers (1580) with
the "art of trying to judge the character of men by their features" (175). Though
orthography is a notoriously unreliable guide in this period, Montaigne's spelling
here suggests that he may have thought of phisionomie as etymologically derived
from physis + nomos.
39
Though I concentrate on the first of these stories, both underscore the
fact that he himself reads "nature" in the mirror of others' eyes, as before he and
we had read Socrates only through the mediating authority of others. Frederick
Kellerman, in "The Essais and Socrates," Symposium 10 (1956): 204-16, views
Socrates as "Montaigne's ideal of a full and pure life which owed itself to the
world as an example" (215). McGowan's chapter, Montaigne's Deceits, pp. 150-69,
reaches much the same conclusion.

John Bernard

152

intruder into Montaigne's house suddenly changes his mind, he

"remonta cheval, ses gens ayants continuellement les yeux sur
luy pour voir quel signe il leur donneroit" (1061b). Contrary to
the speaker's own quest earlier, the reading of "nature" in the
physiognomy of her creatures can now no longer take place oneto-one; for the leader to be a reader the retinue must become an
"audience." Indeed, they become the ultimate reader, into whose
place the reader of the Essais can now project himself.
The significance of this pattern is clarified by a passage earlier in the Essais. In the very first chapter, "Par divers moyens on
arrive pareille fin," Montaigne tells the story of Dionysius,
whose intended public execution of Phyto of Rheghium is foiled
by the latter's courageous resistance to torture. As in "De la
phisionomie," an injurious act is averted by the force of the
intended victim's virtue on his tormentor. Once again there is an
audience to the act. Only this time Dionysius, who had intended
the demonstration as a "tragique exemple de vengeance," is transformed into a spectator responding to Phyto's courage. Or
rather, he is transformed into a reader: "lisant dans les yeux de la
commune" a reaction contrary to his own, he is compelled to
abandon his contest of wills with Phyto (I, 1, 9c; 4).40 As a
reader, he loses his autonomous capacity to shape the meaning
of the action by representing his own heroic virtues in public displays for "la commune." Though retaining the power physically
to dispense with Phyto, he has lost out in the struggle for the
allegiance of the audience. In the end, Phyto makes him an
illustrative example of tyranny.
Can we find in this interpolation a clue to the triangulationmotif in the Essais? Is this the hidden meaning of "divers
moyens," that we as readers must be diverted from the ostensible
object if we are to read aright? And what of the writer? Is he
perhaps, as Montaigne repeatedly insists in I, 1, also lacking in

40

Frame's translation at this point "Instead of growing angry at this

defiance of a conquered enemy, the rank and file of Dionysius' army showed in
their countenance... " loses the force of lisant and creates a false expectation
absent from the original text. The contest of wills (volont) is paralleled in "Des
cannibales," where the savages try alternately to conquer and resist the will of
their adversaries, and in "Sur des vers de Virgile," where sexual love becomes a
matter of conquering not only the body but the will of a woman.

Montaigne and Writing: ...

153

the moyen of cruelty necessary to be an "original"? The final

exemplar of divergent means is one of Montaigne's recurrent
heroes, Alexander. In the anecdote that concludes the chapter,
Alexander is confronted by an example of courageous resistance
analogous to the one that defeats Dionysius. Enraged by Betis's
heroic virtue, Alexander hounds the captive to his death. At the
end of "De l'incommodit de la grandeur" Asinius Pollio says of
Alexander's Roman counterpart, Augustus, that "ce n'est pas
sagesse d'escrire l'envy de celui qui peut proscrire" (III, 7,
920b). The writer cannot vie in power with the world-conqueror:
the latter is originary; the other merely derivative, reflected.
And yet, as the title of this little essay implies, greatness has its
incommodit. Princes are still in the Hegelian primitive state,
where brute mastery of others is the only possible satisfaction.
Deprived of true rivalry by an ever-present flattery, they are
forced to fall back on their natural passion and to generate their
own desire. But what they salvage of this prerogative is only the
violence which enables them to "proscrire"; having that, they do
not need to "escrire." Alexander's condition may be superior to
Dionysius' in that he need not regard "la commune," but his
power to proscrire is not for that reason necessarily more enviable
than Dionysius' qualified autonomy, mediated by the look of
Others. Montaigne is perhaps the first to discover that writing is
always secondary, always dependent on derived desire. But the
writer not only must escrire because he lacks the absolute power
to proscrire; he also perceives the truth of his secondariness. As
Ren Girard would say, he is "romanesque" not "romantique."41
With these parallels in mind we may return to "De la
phisionomie." As I have tried to suggest, the attempt there to
supplant Socrates as nature's original bumps up against the same
impasse of writing on which it began. Early in the chapter

41

Deceit, Desire, and the Novel, trans. Yvonne Frecero (Baltimore: Johns
Hopkins University Press, 1965), pp. 113-38. We might consider this whole ques-tion
in the light of Girard's discussion of nobility in his essay on "triangular desire."
Girard argues that Stendhal, identifying nobility with passion and self-generated
desire, sees its decline in the modern aristocrat's emerging need for "comparison" and
the "look of the commoner" to sustain it (pp. 116f.). As in the parallel passage of
Montaigne regarding Dionysius, "les yeux de la commune," the phrase suggests that we
may be on to a secret of the great: namely, that their absolute authority is always a
thing of a mythic, originary past.

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John Bernard

Montaigne contrasts the originality of Socrates with the misguided derivativeness of moderns. Nearly twenty pages later, in
a self-referential moment that turns out to be also the one most
open to a deconstructive reading of the art/nature dichotomy,
Montaigne places himself on the side of inauthentic or secondary
imitators, as opposed to those (Socrates, peasants, etc.) on whom
Nature has imprinted her traces, defending his habit of borrowing or dressing himself in others' clothes on the grounds that he
writes too late to be authentic. Lacking wit and memory, he can
speak "de rien que du rien, ny aucune science que de celle de
l'inscience" (1057c). Thus the essay itself, like war (1(39) and
Senecan science (1041), may offer a cure to our secondarity
worse than the disease itself.
To paraphrase one last time the question of "Du repentir," if
Nature has left 'traces" in each of us, and if all efforts to read
them only obscure them, why essayer? Why not se resoudre?
Montaigne seems to imply that he is doing just that in abandoning his idealization of Socrates and suggesting that each of us
must live according to his own "forme maistresse," which
presumably represents Nature's imprint in all its diversity. But
the execution of this claim in "De la phisionomie" foregrounds
the inevitable indirection needed to "read" oneself. Like the
retinue, rider, and "Montaigne" in the anecdote, the reader, the
writing subject, and "Socrates" form a specular triangle in which
Socrates is the tiers without whom it is impossible to get a "reading" of the object, let alone of oneself. Our efforts to find the
traces of nature in the textual record (registre) of "Montaigne,"
the body of the text built up of words, are foiled by that record's
own demonstration of the infinite deferral of such self-presence
in the writing subject's parallel quest for those traces in Socrates.
While it is true that we can take Montaigne's portrait directly
from himself, not depending on the authority of a mere "image
des discours" recorded in the writings of others, his virtue is vulnerable to the same objection as Socrates': it is beyond cur usage
and thus constitutes no real cognoissance. In his function as
author, Montaigne concedes his secondarity and implicitly trusts
the very reader whose sufficiency he enables in the Essais to
extract meaning from its sybilline leaves.

Montaigne and Writing: ...

155

By situating the writing subject at the heart of the Essais

Montaigne imparts a unique intensity to the notion of a book.
Eric Havelock and others have argued that with alphabetic literacy and, later, the dispersion of fixed texts through printing,
prose replaces oral poetry as the medium of cultural preservation
and information storage in the Western world.42 Though
Montaigne abandons the narrative modes of Rabelais or
Marguerite de Navarre, he accepts prose as his vehicle of communication. On the other hand, whether or not he is acquainted
with the Confessions, Montaigne doesn't follow Augustine in constructing a story, a vita, out of his personal experience. His prose
remains personal without being strictly autobiographical.43 Even
the pathos of his reflections on ancient erotic poetry stems from
the fact that they are uttered by a writer in a sense that even
Vergil is not, being rather a poet with a presumed access to the
living logos of Greek orality. By capitalizing on writing's
acknowledged distance from speech, and a fortiori from Truth,
the Essais invent the modern subject. Weaving a diversionary
web of criture, they impart a distinctly modern "voice" to the
post-Gutenberg world of silent print.
University of Houston

42
See especially The Literate Revolution in Greece (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 1982). Almost contemporaneously with Montaigne, Peter
Ramus is revising the traditional oral-based system of rhetoric and logic to suit
the new medium of print in serving just that capacity. See Walter J. Ong, SJ,
Orality and Literacy (London: Methuen, 1982), pp. 134f., 168.
43
On the relation of the "personal" to typographic technology, see Ong,
Fighting for Life (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1988), p. 200.

Montaigne's "I"
Hassan Melehy
J'ose non seulement parler de moy,
mais parler seulement de moy; je fourvoye
quand j'escry d'autre chose et me desrobe
mon subject. (III, 8: De l'art de conferer)

The subject of the Essais is, of course, their subject. This

book speaks of numerous aspects of their author's person
thereby, in effect, embodying him. Each time the word "je"
appears there is another aspect, another face of the subject. The
Essais are, as a book of the subject, a subjective book: they say
"je parle," "je croy," "je produis," "j'ayme"more than "la
parole," "la croyance," "la production," "l'amiti." Montaigne
treats things in their particularity, not generally or, as one might
say, objectively. "J'ayme ces mots, qui amollissent et moderent la
temerit de nos propositions: A l'aventure, Aucunement,
Quelque, On dict, Je pense, et semblables."1 Every judgment of a
thingevery observation and propositionbecomes a partial
judg-ment of certain aspects of the thing, strictly in its relation to
the subject. And the subject itself emerges bit by bit in the writing
of these relations, not revealing itself as a whole. "Montaigne,"
never a stable entity, becomes readable as the assembly of these
fragments. The subject is designated as what signifies itself in
sayingand what thereby has the power to say"I." When
Montaigne writes "je"when he announces the engagement of a
certain subjectivityhe is not aiming for an exhaustive treatment
of his objects, nor of his subject.
Though many aspects of the latter already appear in the
Essais, there is no reason that they could not extend much further. (The presence of various major emendations in the three
editions shows that what puts an end to their extension is
Montaigne's death. But since the Essais are not a chronological

1
Montaigne, Essais (Paris: Gallimard, Bibliothque de la Pliade, 1962), III,
11, 1007. All subsequent references to the Essais will be to this edition, and will be
cited in the body of the text.

Montaigne's "I"

157

narrative,2 this is not a real limit to the possibilities: "Qui ne voit

que j'ay pris une route par laquelle, sans cesse et sans travail,
j'iray autant qu'il y aura d'ancre et de papier au monde?" [II, 9,
922]). And in a way they do continue: as they are read, each of
the fragments reveals its own aspects, and isn't confined to any
single sense of the context in which it appearsit is allowed to go
beyond the limits of the book. "Un suffisant lecteur descouvre
souvant s escrits d'autruy des perfections autres que celles que
l'autheur y a mises et appercees, et y preste des sens et des
visages plus riches" (I, 24, 126). There is no reason not to turn
this suggestion to the word "je": each time "je" is written, other
significations materialize. More than one subject is signified; the
effect produces difference within the subject, and a different subject. The "I" of the Essais moves to multiplicity.
I am, evidently, drawing on more recent interpretations of
Montaigne whose emphasis is on the language of the texts and its
function of producing a subject. In a critical treatment of some
of these readings, Richard Regosin distinguishes them from
more traditional, "mimetic" approaches. In the latter,
"Montaigne stands as an objective reality prior to and outside of
the essays, a unique and original consciousness whose presence is
made manifest in the writing."3 In contrast the other efforts, in
Regosin's summary, have "shed important light on how Montaigne sought to compose both book and self through the act of
writing."4 My attempts here work along the latter lines. But no
more than I will affirm that there is no Montaigne outside the
"text" (in the very constricted sense that our institution tends to

2
For the distinction between Montaigne's writing, self-portrait or
"autoportrait," and the narrative of autobiography, see Steven Rendall, "The Rhetoric
of Montaigne's Self-Portrait: Speaker and Subject," in Studies in Philol-ogy 73 (July
1976), 285-301, and Michel Beaujour, "Introduction: autoportrait et autobiographie," in
Miroirs d'encre (Paris: Seuil, 1980). Such a distinction, con-sidered with the possibility
that Montaigne's disrupted narratives are necessary for his particular production of a
subject, raises some interesting questions on the project of recuperating a
biographical narrative from the Essais, as Donald M. Frame has done (in Montaigne:
A Biography [San Francisco: North Point Press, 1984]).
3
Richard L. Regosin, "Recent Trends in Montaigne Scholarship: A PostStructuralist Perspective," in Renaissance Quarterly 34 (1984), 34.
4

Ibid., 37.

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Hassan Melehy

hand us, which of course resists certain key theoretical developments5), I will not limit myself simply to a study of Montaigne or
the Essais, or to an "application" of theories of subject or text to
the latter. The contention I begin with is that Montaigne's text
treats problems of subjectivity in ways valuable to theory; I will
try to produce a theoretical reading of Montaigne that will not
simply borrow from theory without weighing its effectiveness.
My reading will be selective (as any lectio is, of necessity), drawing on passages that particularly elicit this functioning of language. And as any theory of subject and text must also be a
theory of reading, I will attempt to bring my strategies under
critical scrutiny as I deploy themor rather to make the very
deployment a reflexive examination. Since theory is as much
drawn from the text considered as carried to it, the passages
themselves, in their contexts, should offer reasons for their selection.
Montaigne's subject, in a way, stands not in opposition to but
rather in identity with its objects: since each of the subjectfragments emerges in relation to a particular object or objectfragment, it must be seen as totally bound up with the latter to
the point where there can no longer be a distinction between the
two. But this process can work only insofar as the operative elements remain fragmentary; the subject doesn't move to totality.
As Hugo Friedrich puts it, 'Montaigne is permeated with the
insight that no particular rises to the universal, as anything like
the lower to the higher."6 The subject does not impose itself as a
subordinating principle, does not assume any kind of ascendancypositions the subject will claim in its subsequent philosophical

Indispensable to an understanding of these developments is Roland

Barthes's distinction between "work" and "text": see "De l'uvre au texte," in La
Revue d'esthtique 3 (1971), 225-32; "From Work to Text," in
image/Music/Text, tr. Stephen Heath (New York: Hill and Wang, 1977), 155-64.
6

Hugo Friedrich, Montaigne (Bern: A. Francke AG Verlag, 1949), 13:

"Montaigne ist durchdrungen von der Einsicht, da kein Einzelnes im
Allgemeinen aufgeht, etwa als das Niedere im Hheren." The translations from this
book are mine. In the French edition, Montaigne, tr. Robert Rovini (Paris:
Gallimard, 1968), 14.

Montaigne's "I"

159

history.7 As a fragmentary arrangement (or agencement8), it cannot engage in mastery.

Nevertheless, "je veus estre maistre de moy, tout sens"
(III, 5, 818). There is a tendency toward unity in the subject, and
this tendency, as vouloir or wanting, may be named desire: the
"I" will control its senses, its body, the different directions that its
desire moves it in, as well as the meanings that its writing produces. As the desire for unity is enacted, the significations, the
senses, proliferate. But this desire is there because it is not
satisfied; the object has not been attained. "Moy," object in the
writing and of the desire, is separate from "je." The subject is
only articulated as a unity through its expression in the writing,
the book: "Mon livre est tousjours un" (III, 9, 941). This unity,
however, shows its faces in fragments, each one in material relation to its object, not as a transcendence. The book is a unity,
produced as such by the subject that desires to render itself a
unity through writing; but Montaigne can add a few lines later,
"Moy cette heure et moy tantost sommes bien deux." This subject knows itself as plural, multiple, and this knowing is reached
in the writing of the book.9 Self-consciousness, selfunderstanding, articulated in writing, do not elevate the subject:
"Here, to understand oneself means to understand that the T is a
game of surprising facticities, never expressible as a totality,
enigmatically interlocked, and on the other hand also enigmati-

7
Friedrich's book rigorously reads Montaigne's critique of system and totality
across the Kantian-Hegelian philosophical heritage of unity and mastery. Reasons for
the recuperation of Montaigne's pre-Cartesianism in recent critical debates, in which a
stake is the revaluation of the Cartesian subject, become more apparent.
8
I borrow this word from Gilles Deleuze and Flix Guattari. Cf. Mille plateaux
(Paris: Minuit, 1980), 15: "Un agencement est prcisment cette crois-sance des
dimensions dans une multiplicit qui change ncessairement de nature mesure qu'elle
augmente ses connexions." (A Thousand Plateaus, tr. Brian Mas-sumi [Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 1987], 8.) Agencement is what occurs when unity, as a
hierarchization and centralization, is no longer possible; subject becomes agencement
when it does not hold a position of mastery, but rather one of connection, to its own
and other elements.
9

Jean Starobinski comments on these sentences, "La dualit, l'altnt ne sont

pas supprimes, mais l'unit du livre les englobe sans les rduire." Montaigne en
mouvement (Paris: Gallimard, 1982), 42; Montaigne in Motion, tr. Arthur Goldhammer
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985), 27.

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Hassan Melehy

cally viable with one another."10 The "I," in its incessant and
diverse "gambades" (III, 9, 973), becomes constructed as a game,
a jeu.
Though there is no totality, there is an identity of subject
and object, in a microscopic or microcosmic form. It would not
be extending significations too far to say that, in Montaigne, the
subject is the object. In a sense this expression approaches the
announcement at the outset of the Essais: "je suis moy-mesmes
la matiere de mon livre" (I, "Au lecteur," 9). Montaigne is writing on, or about, himself; he constitutes the matter, forms the
raw material, for his book. But the book is also assembled,
arranged, from matter: is this matter of the book also Montaigne,
in a bodily sense? Jefferson Humphries comments on this
sentence, "Matter is put in the peculiar position of stand-ing for
an equivalency between writer and book, Montaigne the writing
self and Montaigne the text. It is through matter, whatever he
may mean by it, that man is turned into book."11 I would modify
this formulation slightly: matter is that through which the man
the constituted, material subjectis articulated as the book. Both
"je" and book are matter; in the writing they are the same
matterthough not, as I will try to demonstrate, a homogeneous
substancebearing the name "Montaigne."
I would also add that "maistre," which Montaigne wants to
be, and "matiere," which he is, are in anagrammatical tension
with each other. It is in the book, the "matiere," that "je" articulates the desire to be "maistre de moy," where it moves toward
unity. The "s" from Montaigne's "maistre," displacing the second "e" in "matiere," both masculinizes and pluralizes the latter.
The matter becomes, rather than substance to be formed, the
locus of active desire and proliferation; however, in its drive to
unityas it makes an object of itselfit becomes plural, and
escapes its own action. The very process by which "je" will

10

Friedrich, op. cit., 272: "Sich selbst verstehen, bedeutet hier: verstehen,
da8 das Ich ein Spiel von berraschenden, nie als Ganzheit ausdrckbaren, rtselhaft ineinander verschrnkten und wiederum auch rtselhaft miteinander
lebensfhigen Faktizitten ist." French edition, op. cit., 232.
11
Jefferson Humphries, "Montaigne's Anti-Influential Model of Identity,"
in Harold Bloom, ed., Michel de Montaigne (New York: Chelsea House, 1987),
219.

Montaigne's "I"

161

become one multiplies it. Though the book may encompass the
duality and alterity of the subject, as Starobinski points out,12 the
desire that the writing articulates certainly moves toward suppressing and reducing them. The desire reaches for the production of itself as controlling subject, outside the book, and is
articulated in the text. No interpretation, after all, is done
without engagement of its text, and the "mimetic" readings that
Regosin delineates are not without their raw material. The tension, between unity and multiplicity, between master and matter,
forms the substance of Montaigne's writing.
This tension leaves marks, traces of itself throughout the
Essais. For example, in "De trois commerces," chapter 3 of book
III, Montaigne treats three types of engagement, involvement of
the subjectactivities in which aspects of itself emergewith
others, with material other than itself. Nothing foreign to it, he
affirms, will leave the subject untouched; but some things allow it
to be more integrated than others. The loss of mastery, which
can happen easily, must be avoided:
La vie est un mouvement inegal, irregulier et multiforme. Ce n'est pas
estre amy de soy et moins encore maistre, c'est en estre esclave, de se
suivre incessament et estre si pris ses inclinations qu'on ne puisse
fourvoyer, qu'on ne puisse tordre (796).

Depending on objects for the satisfaction of one's desire, even in

attempts to possess and to master them, leaves one a slave to
them. The only way to assure complete mastery, self-controlthe
autonomy of the subjectis to be completely self-contained.
La plus part des esprits ont besoing de matiere estrangere pour se desgourdir et exercer; le mien en a besoing pour se rassoir plustost et
sejourner, "vitia otii negotio discutiendo sunt," car son plus laborieux
et principal estude, c'est s'estudier soy. Les livres sont pour luy du
genre des occupations qui le desbauchent de son estude (796-97).

Foreign or strange matter is inimical to the autonomy of the subject. Making itself the object of its own knowledge and its own
desire, becoming self-identical, is how it will proceed. And
Montaigne's subject will engage in this procedure through writing, constructing a booka member of the species that, for his
"esprit," is "matiere estrangere." The "matiere" of himself and
his book becomes, in its becoming self-identical, "estrangere,"

12

See note 9.

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Hassan Melehy

different from itself. And this book could not be written without
other "matieres estrangeres," other books, in a foreign language,
from which it borrows in order to speak.
Still, books provide a more secure foundation than other types of
engagement with foreign matter. Of the three "commerces" of
the chapter's title, the third, with books, is favored. Of the first
two, with men and with women, respectively: "Ces deux commerces sont fortuites et despendans d'autruy. L'un est ennuyeux
par sa raret; l'autre se flestrit avec l'aage; ainsin ils n'eussent
pas assez prouveu au besoing de ma vie" (805). "Despendans
d'autruy": "l'autre se flestrit avec l'aage." The "autruy" of
"l'autre," apparently, is not the women involved, or the
"commerce" itself: the only thing that (literally) "flattens with
age" is the member of the body that makes the "commerce" possible, that organizes the body so that it may be integral in its
engagement. Elsewhere Montaigne remarks of this member,
"Chacune de mes pieces me faict esgalement moy que toute
autre. Et nulle autre ne me faict plus proprement homme que
cette-cy" (III, 5, 866). Each of the body "pieces" is no more
"moy" than any other; Montaigne is multiplebut this one member is what provides the unity of "homme," the materially constituted subject. But as a fragment, a "piece," it is "matiere
estrangere," "autre"; it is endowed with an independence, an
autonomy. Montaigne speaks of "l'indocile libert de ce membre" (I, 21, 100)its freedom that will not allow mastery, the very
thing that will make mastery possible. Only when this member
provides a unity to the body does the second "commerce" satisfy
and render one master. The threat to mastery comes from the
"autruy," which turns out to be the alterity that the body and the
self hold within themselves.
But in spite of these things there is still the opportunity to be an
independent, autonomous subjectback to the books.
Celuy des livres, qui est le troisiesme, est bien plus seur et plus nous.
Il cede aux premiers les autres avantages, mais il a pour sa part la constance et facilit de son service. Cettuy-cy costoie tout mon cours et
m'assiste par tout. Il me console en la vieillesse et en la solitude (805).

The third "commerce" is "plus seur"; it is the one that renders us

surer of, more secure in, ourselves, more materially solid and
better constructed. It is " nous," not " moy": "nous," having

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163

no "commerce" with one another, become collectively fragmented, more independent from one another, and in that state
we can collectively rise to a position of mastery. This mastery
derives from the "service" of the third "commerce": though
books are "matiere estrangere," we bring them into our domain
and rest solidly on their foundation. Amidst our books we are
masters of ourselves. If this service is always with me, I can be
sure of myself, still somewhat unified in myself, even when my
body begins to fragment with old age, and loses the service of the
member that makes it one. I can, surely, say "I," and I can write.
Even though "Je ne m'en sers, en effect, quasi non plus que
ceux qui ne les cognoissent point" (805-806), cognizance of books
provides a solid foundation of security for the subject that is not
in its own domain, but in the world of "matiere estrangere."
Je ne voyage sans livres ny en pais, ny en guerre. [...] Le temps court et
s'en va, ce pendant, sans me blesser. Car il ne se peut dire combien je me
repose et sejourne en cette consideration, qu'ils sont mon cost pour
me donner du plaisir mon heure, et reconnoistre, com-bien ils portent
de secours ma vie (806).

In the conditions where others are going to have the most effect
on me, where time will alter me, turn me into another ("Moy
cette heure et moy tantost sommes bien deux"), where I travel,
wander, outside my own realm, my ownness, my propriety and
my propertybooks provide me "secours," security, make me
"plus seur."
And in its own realm, at home, where the subject may be
self-contained, this mastery is material and concrete; the place of
books is the place where the subject is surest of what is its own.
Chez moy, je me destourne un peu plus souvent ma librairie, d'o tout
d'une main je commande mon mesnage. Je suis sur l'entre et vois soubs
moy mon jardin, ma basse court, ma court, et dans la pluspart les
membres de ma maison. L, je feuillette cette heure un livre, cette
heure un autre, sans ordre et sans dessein, pieces des-cousues; tantost
je resve, tantost j'enregistre et dicte, en me promenant, mes
songes que voicy (806).

Mastery is effected in the house"chez moy," in this space that I

can call my own. And "je," the subject, "commande mon mesnage": "tout d'une main." The word "main" is etymologically
linked to the Latin "manus" and to the verb "commandare,"
from which "commander" is derived. "Main" and "commander"

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Hassan Melehy

are words of mastery, in this case corporeal mastery, of a part of

the body over the space where the latter may be at home,
integrated in all its parts. "Je suis sur l'entre"above, in the
hierarchically superior position proper to the master"sur
l'entre," and thereby "je" commands "les membres de ma
maison," with certain members of its body, the place that marks
the difference between the realms of the self and of the other,
what the other has to pass through to enter the realm of the self,
between the inside and the outside of the home.
To describe this position of the subject Montaigne employs
the word "sur": this word resonates both graphically and
phonetically with "seur." In spite of their independent
etymologies (but from the same language, Latin again, "qui m'a
est donn pour maternel" [II, 17, 622], if we are to take
Montaigne's word)"super" and "securus," respectivelyone can
see their convergence in French, particularly in the Montaignian
text. This convergence is a case of articulation (perhaps brisure
would better describe their relation13), as a sense is produced
through the juncture of these disparate elements that at once
unifies the subject and, by their difference, evokes its fragmentation. The subject is "sur l'entre" and sure of it, sure of the parts
and members of its housesure, in command, with its hand, this
member of its body. The subject is also "sr de," secured by
these things, which give it the constancy and facility of their service: they are "soubs," under, the subject, and from that position
they sub-port it.
It is in this absolutely solid construction of his property, of
his own realm, that Montaigne enjoys the constancy and facility
of the "commerce" with books. In his "librairie" he does his
reading and his writing. He "leafs through" books " pieces descousues"; and that is how he derives satisfaction from this third
"commerce." If he must engage with something ouside his subjective sphere, it will be these books; he can take them in fragments, so as not to disturb the vagaries of his mind. Mastery is
only maintainedheld in the handif nothing outside the realm of

13

Cf. Jacques Derrida, De la grammatologie (Paris: Minuit, 1967), 96-108;

Of Grammatology, tr. Gayatri Spivak (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University
Press, 1976), 65-73.

Montaigne's "I"

165

the proper, nothing other, draws the self outside itself. As

Montaigne remarks in "De la praesumption,"
Je feuillette les livres, je ne les estudie pas: ce qui m'en demeure, c'est
chose que je ne reconnois plus estre d'autruy; c'est cela seulement
dequoy mon jugement a faict son profict, les discours et les imagina-tions
deqoy il s'est imbu; l'autheur, le lieu, les mots et autres cir-constances, je
les oublie incontinent (II, 17, 635).

"Leafing through" allows his mind's vagarieshis "jugement"to

continue as they will. And the citations that he takes from these
books according to "les discours et les imaginations"the courses
and images, the paths through the places of his own subjective
domain in which he wanderswith which his "jugement" has
already intertwined itself (at once "interlocked" and "viable"
with them, to recall Friedrich), which effectively constitute it.
The other aspects of the books, those that indicate their belonging to another place, a place of the other, drop out of his mind.
In reading " pieces descousues," Montaigne is also writing. As
the passage-fragments move along with his "discours" and
"imaginations" (his "jugement" is "imbu"soaked through or
permeatedwith them) they become his text: "je resve"in the
sixteenth century "rver" still has its literal meaning of "to
wander, to rove." So as Montaigne's person wanders so does his
mind: "en me promenant," "j'enregistre"he records these other
texts to construct his own.
And these recordings are certainly not limited to his
citationshis "emprunts," as he calls them (in "Des livres," II,
10, 387)as Villey's monumental work shows.14 These texts are
arranged in no particular "ordre," except that by which they pass
through the domain of Montaigne's vagabond subjectivity, that by
which these movements coincide: an order of "songes," the subject's images of its own realm"que voicy," in this subjectivity, in
this text. The wandering lines, traces, that constitute the writing,
making up the material of the book, circumscribe the realm of

14

Pierre Villey, Les Sources et rvolution des Essais de Montaigne, 2nd ed.
(Paris: Rieder, 1933). See also R. A. Sayce, The Essays of Montaigne: A Critical
Exploration (London: Weindenfeld and Nicolson, 1972), 34-35. Sayce cites the
example of a passage from Amyot's Plutarch that Villey, in all his industry, failed to
track down, and suggests that there are probably others that Villey did not manage to
find. In other words, very large portions of the Essais are composed of borrowings,
both avowedly and unavowedly so.

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Hassan Melehy

the subjecta realm or body of fragments, not a unity but an

agencement. The "I" emerges in the layering assembly of the
book. Again, "je suis moy-mesmes la matiere de mon livre"the
writing "I" that is written as it writes.
In "De l'amiti" Montaigne describes his writing, what forms
the matter of his book: "Que sont-ce icy aussi, la verit, que
crotesques et corps monstrueux, rappiecez de divers membres,
sans certaine figure, n'ayants ordre, suite ny proportion que fortuite?" (I, 28, 181). The "pieces descousues" of reading are parts
of whole texts; but since reading, lectio, selection can never seize
a whole, it may be said that these texts have never con-stituted
wholes.15 The "pieces" are "rappieces" in the writing: this
action at once directs them toward unity and makes unity
impossiblethe pieces are placed in no "ordre" except the fortuitous one of the wandering mind. Writing produces not the
unified body of Montaigne but "corps monstrueux" (and it is
ambiguous whether this term is pluraltension, articulation with
difference, brisure) that may or may notor do and do notbelong
to the body of Montaigne. In any case this body is monstrous,
not recognizable as such according to instituted categories of cognition. But if this text is the product of the wandering mind and
its "imaginations," such a body is to be expected.
The book is composed or composted of many "pieces" that
may be bodies themselves, joined but disjointed, autonomous.

15
Cf. Steven Rendall, "In Disjointed Parts/Par articles dcousus," in
Lawrence D. Kritzman, ed., Fragments: Incompletion and Discontinuity (New
York: New York Literary Forum, 1981), 76: "Dcousu, like the English 'unsewn/
signifies the state of pieces of fabric that were once attached but have come apart,
and thus may imply an antecedent totality that has been fragmented because the
threads connecting its parts have broken or unraveled. But both words may also
signify the state of bits of cloth or other items which are not, and have never been,
connected. Dcousu/unsewn thus operates in a double semantic field, standing at
a point of articulation between unity and disunity, indicating an empty space
between elements that have/have not been connected. It subverts the opposition
between part and whole, and thus resembles words like 'supplment/
'pharmakon/ and 'entame,' of which Derrida has written that they 'resist and disorganize' the binary oppositions of logocentric metaphysics without ever constituting a third term, 'without ever occasioning a solution in the form of speculative
dialectics' [Positions, tr. Alan Bass (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981),
43; Positions (Paris: Minuit, 1972), 58] which would reestablish a unitary logos."
It is precisely the unified subject, which the Essais at once desire and disrupt, that
is the guarantor of the unitary logos.

Montaigne's "I"

167

Some of them may separate from the body of Montaigne: the

book comes out, is produced, as "crotesques." Commonly read
as an alternate spelling of "grotesque,"16 the word has "crotte" in
it. Assuming a relation between "crotte" and "crotesque" analogous to that between "grotte" and "grotesque," one may
understand that these images are perhaps not those found on
grotto walls (though through resonance and articulation they are
that too), but those found in shit: a production from the body,
which has emerged from and bears the marks of the body, but is
not recognizable as an image of the body. From the body, but
now filth, "matiere estrangere"the body's production of the passage between self and "autruy." Having become their own body,
not mimetic of the body (Montaigne is, after all, comparing his
work to a painter's abstract images), the books, as shit, still in a
way belong to the bodyif the body is conceived as "rappiecez de
divers membres."
In "De la vanit," where Montaigne speaks of
seeing/producing his own image in his writing, not by "mes
actions" but by "mes fantasies"exceeding categories of cognitionhe describes the Essais as "des excremens d'un vieil
esprit" (III, 9, 922-23). Though the "vieil esprit" might have a
rather flattened reproductive member, it can resort to the narcissism of gazing at its own excrement, thereby producing and
reproducing itself. When the mind produces bodily filth, it
becomes indistinguishable from the body (as Descartes's forebear Montaigne is radically anti-Cartesian). The "maistre" cannot control the "matiere"or rather they join together and articulate each other as book and body, a body productive of difference, a "monstre."
Montaigne carries the relation of book and body to a point
where it is the very process by which text produces subject, complete with body. This movement emerges particularly in places
where Montaigne treats his practice of citation. The commentary "Sur des vers de Virgile" (III, 5) becomes a metacommentary on his own incorporation of other, others', texts.

16

For example, by Frame, who translates it as "grotesques." The complete Essays

of Montaigne, tr. Donald M. Frame (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1958), 135.

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Hassan Melehy

Montaigne juxtaposesarticulatestexts of Virgil and Lucretius,

both of which treat sexual pleasure. Words from each interweave
with one another: "Quand je rumine ce 'rejicit, pascit, inhians,
molli fovet, medullas, labefacta, pendet, percurrit,' et cette noble
'circunfusa,' mere du gentil 'infusus,' j'ay desdain de ces menues
pointes et allusions verballes qui nasquirent depuis" (850). Of
these words, the first three, the eighth, and the tenth are from
Lucretius, and the others are from Virgil. This coupling of texts
enables their presentation such that they have certain bodily
functions, those of reproduction, which belong to the act to which
the texts refer. Gisle Mathieu-Castellani comments, "les mots
font l'amour, s'enlaant et s'unissant, s'aimantant les uns les
autres, jusqu' ce que l'un des mots du texte de Lucrce enfante
un mot du texte virgilien [.. .]."17 Circunfusa, the flowing-around or
embrace of the lover's legs, of her genitals, is mother to that
which is infusus, poured, infused into her. Through Montaigne's
citation the word gives birth to what makes it possible for it to
give birth: one word is the mother of another, and other words
give birth to themselves and to other usages of themselves. Their
new context, their new "ordre"out of their original order
allows them to give birth to Montaigne's text: the commentary
text, interweaving and recoupling with text that it infuses, is
generated in this process that does not properly belong to it or to
its material.
In this context, "je rumine": an oral contact takes place.18
Montaigne has already eaten these words, has bitten them out of
their works, presumably in his oral-stage Latin education: they
turn up in the Essais as cited passages. Cutting the texts down
even further, to particular words, he vomits them up into his
mouth in order to continue the process of digestion that will
make them a part of his body. In his mouth the words written in
the dead language become spoken onesof a living tongue, as it
wereso that he may appropriate and incorporate them. This
rumination is also a genital act: Montaigne infuses the words
with the seed of the body of his writing, impregnates them, so

17

Gisle Mathieu-Castellani, Montaigne, l'criture de l'essai (Paris: PUF,

1988), 129.
18

Ibid., 130.

Montaigne's "I"

169

that they may embrace him and give birth to this body. There is
an intense corporeal pleasure in the rumination of these words
on corporeal pleasure. This act of citation is itself a rumination:
the words are the objects of the verb "ruminer," and as such they
are, grammatically, chewed and torn from their own context to be
digested in the new one, through this oral passage.
The cited, cut-up texts are in effect already dismembered
texts, as only several lines of each appear; Montaigne dismembers them further by chewing and placing them in his own
text. The latter is, of course, constructed by this placement; a
new text cannot come into being without altering the texts that
precede it. But each word, each member of the text retains its
corporeal properties, and can give birth to other words and other
usages. Montaigne ruminates: his own text, child of the cited
text, father of new texts, eats its own mother, which is also the
feminine body that it impregnatesto effect the functions proper
to that body. He incorporates his mother's body and thereby
destroys it: the destruction is necessary for his birth (another
aspect of this "corps monstrueux"), for the establishment of his
body, his actuality, his presence. It is the effectuation of the
desire for the mastery and the unity of the body, and for its full
presence, as well as of the places and usagesthe significationsof
the words in the text: "je veus estre maistre de moy, tout sens."
But this destruction is necessary for the fulfillment of the birthgiving function of the cited texts: dismembered, the latter retain
their corporeal properties, and are still recognizable as other, as
foreign (they are still in Latin, we should remember, "qui m'a
est donn pour maternel").
In becoming the master of this matter, the new text in its
turn becomes a text to be dismembered, rewritten, placed into a
new context, matter to produce new texts. As commentary this
chapter asserts its superior position with regard to its material
texts through its title, "Sur des vers de Virgile." This assertion
stands in distinction to most of the other chapter titles, the double semantic of whose "de" ("De l'amiti": "Of Friendship," but
also "Some Friendship") places the writing subject in a relation
of juxtaposition or agencement with the material. This "sur" is
also "sr": above the texts of Virgil, the subject is confident in
them, and thereby derives its security, its authority, from its cita-

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Hassan Melehy

tion of themprecisely the scholastic function of commentary.19

But in instituting this presence as authority, here as elsewhere in
the Essais, the process of writing also disrupts presence. Subject
as maistre is as much absent as presentor is absent in its presencein the text.20 The mother persists, as a fragmented,
heterogeneous, monstrous bodyla mre as la matiere, mater as
materia, an etymological identity. In reaching its emergence in
this way, over against the feminine body, the subject genders
itself as male. But it too is a monster, in spite of itself; as hard as
it tries it cannot suppress its female parts. "Je" is the "matiere"
of the book, and thereby slips into being its mother. Writing is
where gender difference takes place, and also where it refuses to
be maintained as hierarchy.
The "I" that speaks here is none other than the locus of
desire, the agency of this process of establishment, and the subjectivity constituted in it. The textual construction of the body
incarnates this agency that signifies itself by saying "I." The "I"
is the speaking body that dismembers itself in the act of speaking: by saying "I ruminate," taking textual members as its
objects, the body engages in the digestion and the incorporation
that construct it as body. That is, by saying "I ruminate," it
ruminates: the statement is performative, one in which the "I"
institutes itself, builds a structure in which it may place itself in
order to come into being. It is still Montaigne's "I," but
Montaigne should be regarded, insofar as he is author, as
effected through the text. The subject writes, but is also written,
instituted, in the writing: "Je n'ay pas plus faict mon livre que

19

See Antoine Compagnon, La Seconde main, ou le travail de la citation

(Paris: Seuil, 1979), 236-44, for an account of this function and its subversion in
Montaigne and Ramus.
20
Derrida, on the organizing presence at the center of a structure, appearing in signs, through signification, writing, speaks of "une prsence centrale qui
n'a jamais t elle-mme, qui a toujours dj t dporte hors de soi dans son
substitut." l'criture et la diffrence (Paris: Seuil, 1967), 411; Writing and Difference, tr. Alan Bass (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978), 280.
Also, on text as an interweaving of signs, which must be the production as
well as the producer of other texts: "Cet enchanement, ce tissu, est le texte qui
ne se produit que dans la transformation d'un autre texte. Rien, ni dans les lments ni dans le systme, n'est nulle part ni jamais simplement prsent ou
absent." Positions, op. cit., 38; Positions, tr., op. cit., 26.

Montaigne's "I"

171

mon livre m'a faict, livre consubstantiel son autheur, d'une

occupation propre, membre de ma vie [. . .]" (II, 18, 648).
Though this sentence has been understood as an affirmation of
Montaigne's logocentrism,21 I am offering a different reading:
Montaigne's book, as "membre," cannot be expected to behave
differently from any other of his members, and so is in a relation
of brisure with its subject. My suggestion is closer to that of
Antoine Compagnon, who finds in this sentence a dislocation of
the center of representation, placing it neither in the author, as
present subject, nor in the text in its restricted sense: "Qui est le
modle de qui? Il n'y a plus de modle ni de copie, d'original ni
d'origine."22
In this consideration of the status of Montaigne's "I," one is
reminded of Barthes, in "De l'uvre au texte": "le je qui crit
n'est jamais, lui aussi, qu'un je de papier."23 But of course
Montaigne has a response: "Quel que je soye, je le veux estre
ailleurs qu'en papier" (II, 37, 764). In the writing there is the
desire for the unity of the subject: it isn't that the subject does
not exist "outside the text," but rather that it must be seen in
connection with the productivity of writing.24 Writing, text, the
book: institution of the author's subjectivity. The body is pieced
together from diverse members; the writing subject is assembled
from phrases, citations, from "matiere estrangere," foreign
textsfrom the same and from other diverse members. Subjectivity doesn't exist outside the institution of writing, which presents an agencement of diverse and heterogeneous elements.
Compagnon, in La Seconde main, treats the historical
emergence of the concept of the author, in large part by way of

21
Regosin suggests that this sentence is an affirmation of the "plenitude" of the
author's "presence" (op. cit., 38), and of the "authentic voice of speech" in writing
(49).
22
23

Compagnon, op. cit., 287.

Barthes, op. cit., 230; "From Work to Text," op. cit., 161.
Cf. Derrida, Positions, op. cit., 122: "[...] je n'ai jamais dit qu'il n'y avait
pas de 'sujet de rcriture.' Je n'ai jamais dit non plus qu'il n'y avait pas de sujet.
[...] Il faut seulement reconsidrer le problme de l'effet de subjectivit tel qu'il
est produit par la structure du texte. De ce que je dsignais [. ..] comme le texte
gnral -- son'bloc'-- et non seulement du texte linguistique." {Positions, tr., op.
cit., 88.)
24

172

Hassan Melehy

Montaigne's contribution. The "author" is, in the Renaissance,

an effect of a transformation in the practice of commentary, the
citation of other texts, of others' texts-even the written word "I,"
the designation of the writing subject, cannot be articulated
except as an act of citation. Referring to the repetition of the
historical event in the process of individuation, of "I" formation, Compagnon begins his study with the description of a
game that he remembers having played as a child. Employing a
pair of scis-sors and a jar of glue, "je dcoupe du papier, du tissu,
n'importe quoi, peut-tre mes vtements."25
Dcoupage et collage sont le modle du jeu d'enfant, une forme
peine plus labore que le jeu de la bobine o, dans l'alternance de la
prsence et de l'absence, Freud voyait l'origine du signe, une forme
primitive du jeu de la mourre -- papier, ciseaux, caillou --, et plus
puis-sante si rien, au fond, ne rsiste ma colle. Je fais un monde
mon image, un monde o je m'appartiens, et c'est un monde en
papier. [. . .] Dcoupage et collage sont les expriences fondamentales
du papier, dont lecture et criture ne sont que des formes drives,
transitoires, phmres. Entre l'enfance et le gtisme, qu'aurai-je
fait? J'aurai appris lire et crire. Je lis et j'cris. Je ne cesse de
lire et d'crire.26

Reading and writing compose this movement of arranging the

domain of the subject, of selecting signs with which to surround
oneself, to make a world, and to make a self appropriate to this
world. The act of reading can only be that of cutting, of citing,
and it is thereby the act of writing. Through cutting and pasting,
a text results.
On citation as cutting and pastingwe might say
dismember-ment and piecing together, to bring this description
back to the bodyCompagnon points to this constitution of the
domain of the subject.
La citation rpte, elle fait retentir la lecture dans l'criture: c'est
qu'en vrit lecture et criture ne sont qu'une seule et mme chose, la
pratique du texte qui est pratique du papier. La citation est la forme
originelle de toutes les pratiques du papier, le dcouper-coller, et c'est
un jeu d'enfant.27

25

Compagnon, op. cit., 15.

26

Ibid., 16.

27

Ibid., 27.

Montaigne's "I"

173

Xhis game is the first creation and the first appropriation of

signs. Before the child knows language and the assembly of
phenomena that surround him/her, s/he must cut them up and
arrange them; they become signs in this appropriation.
"Appropriation" here means not only the act of making things
one's own, but also the demarcation, the circumscription, of a
domain of the properboth property and propriety, as well as
propret, what is distinguished from foreign matter, what belongs
to the subject. The subject creates itself, circumscribes itself,
writes itselfinstitutes itselfin this appropriation. A spatialization around a center, which articulates matter as signs, is produced in this writing of the realm of the proper.28 Compagnon
calls this the practice of paper, but "paper" may be extended to
materiality and corporealitythe institution of the subject is also
the institution of the body.
This center of an agencement of signsof appropriated languagesignifies itself by saying "I": according to Compagnon,
De fait, le sujet de la citation, c'est le je de Montaigne. Ni
phnomnologique, ni autobiographique, ni mtalinguistique, il
dsigne le rptiteur ou le rapporteur, le porte-parole sans foi ni loi.29

It is the center, but it doesn't control. There is organization, and

desire for controlby which the "I" erects itselfbut as agencement the elements of signification work together as production.
The infantile circumscription of the domain of the subject is
repeated in history with the emergence of the modern subject.
Its formation as an effect of reading and writing, its textuality,
precedes and disrupts Cartesian hypostatization.
Dans les Essais, le je ne renvoie pas un sujet constant et fixe,
l'auteur. Il est divers, htrogne, pluriel, autant de personnages dis-tincts
que de phrases dans le livre [ ...] . Et ce sujet multiple, ce polygraphe
dont chaque nonciation est un rle, fuit, impntrable, insaisissable,
dans les dfils de l'criture.30

28
Cf. Derrida, Marges de la philosophie (Paris: Minuit, 1972), 160: "Le proche,
c'est le propre; le propre, c'est le plus proche (prope, propius)." (Margins of Philosophy,
tr. Alan Bass [Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1982], 133.) Proximity and
propriety, property, ownness, originate in relation to each other: space must have a
subject at its center (a zero-point -- as Descartes was to dis-cover).
29
30

Compagnon, op. cit., 40.

Ibid., 305.

174

Hassan Melehy

These "dfils" concern not only the brutest aspects of the body
of the writer, but extend to the matter that surrounds him. There
are books, citation, and writing, all present in the book that is the
space of ordering matter, as filthy as it may be, into signs:
"Combien souvent, et sottement l'avanture, ay-je estandu mon
livre parler de soy?" (III, 13, 1046).
And of course there is the library, this space of books and
writing, situated in the house such that it gives Montaigne a position of mastery over his own domain, the space designated "chez
moy." Again in III, 3, "De trois commerces," the library
est au troisiesme estage d'une tour. Le premier, c'est ma chapelle, le
second une chambre et sa suite, o je me couche souvent, pour estre
seul. [...] La figure en est ronde et n'a de plat que ce qu'il faut ma
table et mon siege, et vient m'offrant en se courbant, d'une veu,
tous mes livres, rengez cinq degrez tout l'environ. Elle a trois
veus de riche et libre prospect, et seize pas de vuide en diametre. En
hyver, j'y suis moins continuellement; car ma maison est juche sur un
tertre, comme dict son nom, et n'a point de piece plus esvente que
cette cy; qui me plaist d'estre un peu penible et l'esquart, tant pour
le fruit de l'exercice que pour reculer de moy la presse. C'est l mon
siege. J'essaie m'en rendre la domination pure, et soustraire ce
seul coin la communaut et conjugale, et filiale, et civile (806).

The description of this indispensable institution (indispensable to

Montaigne's person as well as to the production of the book) is
labored almost to banality. The space of this center of the subject is entirely striated, and thereby hierarchized;31 the subject is
at the high position of its property, supported by the layers that
are assigned precise functions. This part of the property, nearest
to the subject, is the most the subject's own, and allows it to be
itself. Geometric specifications are given, the roundness and the
flatness of the library, the "degrez" by which the books are
"rengez," arrangedeven in their striation the elements become
an agencementthe "trois veus" and the "seize pas." The place
of reading and writing, of the body and the subject of Montaigne,
is situated exactly, in an almost Cartesian manner, in the space
from which the subject may survey, may authorize the perspective that centers the geometry and the geography of its property.

31

Cf. the characterization that Deleuze and Guattari make of "espace

lisse" and "espace stri," in Mille plateaux, op. cit., especially chapter 14, "1440Le
lisse et le stri," 592-625; A Thousand Plateaus, op. cit., "1440: The Smooth and
the Striated," 474-500.

Montaigne's "I"

175

But it remains evident that it is this geometry, the spatial

construction of the property, that determines the position of the
subject, even in its mastery and lordship. Montaigne can't be
there very often because of the location of the house and the
conditions of the earth: "en hyver," in this "piece [la] plus
esvente," the earth has an effect on the matter of the body, and
it thereby sometimes restricts the entry of the subject into its own
domain. But this same earth, through an engagement with its
"matiere estrangere," through an "exercice," may also strengthen
the body; and at the same time, in conjunction with the construction of the house, the earth may provide a refuge, a place where
the subject may be solidified. It wants to be its own founder, and
constructs a place from where it may authorize and institute
itself. The striated space, however, transforms into a smooth
space,32 the various elements of the construction remain
heterogeneous, the "membres de ma maison" constitute a "corps
monstrueux."
This conjunction of earth and institution, of nature and
cultureor of culture translating nature in writing itis what
marks the emergence of the subject, its entry into language: the
name. The name of Montaigne is the result of geography, of the
writing of the earth: the property has a unique position, circumscribed by the features of the earth"ma maison est juche
sur un tertre, comme dit son nom"the name of the house, the
institution of "chez moy." Not only does this "tertre" provide
conditions by which the body may be strengthened, but, as a
synonym of "montaigne" in the sixteenth century, it grants the
stabilizing mark, the title, to the domain of the subject. This
stability, however, is somewhat fragile, tends to fragment. The
name "Montaigne" designates a certain subject, the one writing
the Essais. But this name also "says" "tertre"; in the multiplication of its significations, the name slips away from its subject,
becomes another of the latter's diverse members. "Il y a le nom

32
Cf. Deleuze and Guattari, Mille plateaux, op. cit., 593: "Tantt encore nous
devons rappeler que les deux espaces n'existent en fait que par leurs mlanges l'un
avec l'autre: l'espace lisse ne cesse pas d'tre traduit, transvers dans un espace stri;
l'espace stri est constamment revers, rendu un espace lisse." (A Thousand
Plateaus, op. cit., 474.) And likewise the communication between hierarchized,
unified subject and multiplicity is constant in Montaigne.

176

Hassan Melehy

et la chose; le nom, c'est une voix qui remerque et signifie la

chose; le nom, ce n'est pas une partie de la chose ny de la substance, c'est une piece estrangere joincte la chose, et hors
d'elle" (II, 16, 601). In this slippage the subject loses the element
that signifies the circumscription of its proper domain; as effects
of language, coming about in writing, the subject's unity and
transcendence are lost as they are written into the domain of signifies.33 As a designator, "Montaigne" also loses its force to
mark this subject and no other:
Car de m'attendre que mon nom la reoive, premierement je n'ay point de
nom qui soit assez mien: de deux que j'ay, Tun est commun toute ma
race, voire encore d'autres. Il y a une famille Paris et Montpellier
qui se surnomme Montaigne; une autre en Bretaigne et en Xaintonge, de
la Montaigne (II, 16, 610).

The name, easily attached to other places, dislocates the subject's

spatial center.
The name "Michel de Montaigne" may thereby designate
several decentered subjects. And again the writing subject, the
"I," is itself multiple, unstably designated by the name as a substance that is not one, as a substance only becomes unitary by
virtue of the uniqueness of its name. Montaigne says of some
names, "Des noms," 'Quelque diversit d'herbes qu'il y ait, tout
s'enveloppe sous le nom de salade. De mesme, sous la consideration des noms, je m'en voy faire icy une galimafre de
divers articles" (I, 46, 265). The consideration of names, like
other portions of the Essais, becomes a meal of diverse texts,
texts that are articulations. Even the name Montaigne chooses
for his collection, "galimafre," is itself a "galimafre de divers
articles"an articulation (according to the Petit Robert) of
"galer," to amuse oneself, and the Picard "mafrer," to gorge
oneself. The subject becomes an assembly of the signs that it has
appropriated, and its name is one of these signs; from its

33
Rendall remarks, "This passage clearly indicates the extent of Montaigne's
adherence to a 'logocentric' metaphysics though both his critique of interpretation
and his practice in the Essais undermine it." ("Mus in Pice: Montaigne and
Interpretation," in MLN 94 [1979], 1070 n. 3.) I have been making a case for the
undermining force of the Essais; I would say that this pas-sage is only an indication of
an adherence to logocentrism if interpretation allows the desire for the substantiality of
the subject to succeed, and thereby suppresses the desire's self-subversion.

Montaigne's "I"

177

privileged position the name still functions in articulation with

other signs, and thereby slips away from the subject, allowing the
emergence of the latter's multiplicity. This subject evades the
senses of the name subjectit is not an individual, a unity, or an
authority, but an interaction, an agencement among numerous
elements. In Nous, Michel de Montaigne Compagnon remarks,
l'aporie du nom qui impliquait sa dnonciation comme universel au dbut
de la rdaction des Essais, notamment dans le chapitre "Des noms,"
n'tait pas tant qu'il y ait plusieurs sujets pour un mme nom, ou plusieurs
noms pour un mme sujet, mais, au plus profond, qu'il n'y ait pas un tel
sujet, qu'il n'y ait rien de tel qu'un sujet.34

The subject is instituted, but the institution renders the subject

impossible; the subject's emergence is its dissolution.
This institution takes place in the writing, the writing named
the Essais. There are three books, which appeared in three editions; the site of their production and of the author's institution
of subjectivity is placed, in "De trois commerces," the third chapter of the third book, on the third floor of the tower, as part of
the description of the third "commerce."35 The tower in turn
offers the subject its authorizing perspective, "trois veus de
riche et libre prospect."36 The number of the institution is III
(circumstantially, a multiplication of the English single-stroke
self-designator of the subject), three. And one of its names, or
another word that its name slips into, is "tertre." This word,
according to the Petit Robert, derives from popular Latin,
"termes, crois. de termen, inis (de terminus 'borne') avec limis, itis
'limite'"an appropriate articulation to designate the circumscription of property. But this word also articulates otherwise: "ter/tre" contains the Latin "ter," "three times," three letters assembled and doubled"three" marked three times.
"Tertre," synonym of "montaigne," inscribes the institution of
the subject, the material production of the book, and has as its

34

Compagnon, Nous, Michel de Montaigne (Paris: Seuil, 1980), 162.

Albert Thibaudet indicates this homology between the description of the
place of writing and the construction of the Essais. Montaigne, ed. Floyd Gray
(Paris: Gallimard, 1963), 79.
35

36

Starobinski suggests this addition to Thibaudet's observation. Starobinski,

Montaigne en mouvement, op. cit., 168; Montaigne in Motion, op. cit., 137.

178

Hassan Melehy

referent the matter of the book, whose author and name are
Montaigne. The Essais name their author, and name themselves:
ter becomes "tri," then "trier," a verb that overlaps semantically
with "essayer." The name of the book becomes the name of the
author, the two produced together.37 "Ter" also turns up in the
articulation of "maistre" and "matiere," its subtraction leaving
little more than "ma," prelinguistic vocalization of desire for the
mother's body, primal cry of separation, individuation, differentiation as subject. Through the articulation in the doubling
of "ter," desire is met, and mastery over matter is reached in this
place of writing: on this "tertre" is the "siege" of the author, the
corner where he tries ("J'essaie") to find his "domination pure."
Writing, as appropriation, extends to the molecular elements
of signs, to letters, graphics, signifying powers. The signification
that emerges puts language into play, a play or jeu that mocks the
authority of referential language. This authority, in writing, has
throughout modernity been assembled in the subject of the
author. But as writing comes to be seen as the institution of the
author, and the author the production of the appropriation of
others' words, the jeu begins to transform this authority. The
institution of subjectivity in Montaigne is precisely this jeu, by
which Montaigne's "I," "je," is constructedwhat is produced
here, in other words, is a je de mots. The author constructs the
book, of course, but exactly to the degree that the book constructs the author: again, "Je n'ay pas plus faict mon livre que
mon livre m'a faict, livre consubstantiel son autheur [...]."
This plenitude of Montaigne's person in the Essais, this
presence, filling the boundaries of the domain of the subject, is
just as much a void, an absence. Montaigne, seeing more and
more of himself in the printed Essais, sees another. To make the
book consubstantial with himself, to have himself remade as an

37
The seed of my reading of "tertre" is Tom Conley's, written in "De
Cap-sula Totoe: Lecture de Montaigne, 'De trois commerces,'" in L'Esprit crateur
28 (Spring 1988), 18-26. Conley takes these articulations further in the dimension
of the graphic: "Le contexte livresque permet que le nom fasse allusion tertre,
de sorte que le -ter- s'y voit par une trinit de caractres, tt ee rr. Selon les ruses
du rbus, M. de Montaigne signifie le tertre mme, puisqu'il trace le contour de
trois montagnes en son intrieur, deux l'endroit et une troisime minence,
terme mdiateur, l'envers. La forme du majuscule de son nom rpond la
symtrie du vocable qui le sous-tend" (22-23).

Montaigne's "I"

179

author in the present, he must revise; the portrait must be moved

along in time to match the moment of the present. "J'ay des
portraits de ma forme de vingt et cinq et de trente cinq ans; je les
compare avec celuy d'asteure: combien de fois ce n'est plus
moy!" (III, 13, 1082). There are the two previous editions
(matching in number if not in date the two earlier "portraits") in
which the "I" may see its earlier versions. Robert Cottrell
remarks on this passage, "The je with whom Montaigne communicates is clearly un autre."38 But in this institution of the subject, the other will not be cast out and banished from the realm of
the "I," but incorporated as another member of this "corps
monstrueux"; a new image does not displace the old ones, but
adds to them, as different as the various faces are.
Just as painting himself anew will not destroy the other
portraits, Montaigne's revisions to the Essais don't efface the earlier versions: "Laisse, lecteur, courir encore ce coup d'essay et ce
troisiesme alongeail du reste des pieces de ma peinture.
J'adjouste, mais je ne corrige pas" (III, 9, 941). This "alongeail,"
published in 1588 as a further incorporation to an already existing book/portraitthe third, articulating the Essais as the book of
Montaignepresents the author again without displacing the
other authors who may now be absent. This particular sentence,
from 1588, still stands in 1595, with nothing added, as Montaigne
had not corrected his own habits of revision. Indeed, correction,
in the sense of setting the portrait "right," is impossible;39 the
"presence" of the current author can only be set in the writing,
and thereby necessarily marks its own absence. Other layers,

38
Robert D. Cottrell, Sexuality/Textuality: A Study of the Fabric of
Montaigne's Essais (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1981), 104.
39
Patrick Henry writes, "As regards his additions, Montaigne writes,
'J'adjouste, mais je ne corrige pas' [. . .], but this is clearly a false antithesis.
Montaigne's additions often significantly alter what he had written earlier and the
fact that both original text and addition are almost inevitably written in the present tense serves to conceal the new material and blur the earlier passage."
("Recognition of the Other and Avoidance of the Double: The Self and the
Other in the Essais of Montaigne," in Stanford French Review 6 [1982], 182.)
There are certainly alterations: some words and passages are effaced, and ones
that still stand often have their meanings significantly affected by the new context.
But these added layers, as alterations, have the tendency to add alterity, to
proliferate difference in the bookand, indeed, not to correct.

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Hassan Melehy

other "pieces," may be added. No truer a portrait will be

attained, and there will be no increased homogeneity of the substance of author and book; the movement of addition to the
Essais, toward the presence of the author, can only have the
effect of increasing the distance between "I" and "I," or of
accentuating the difference within the subject; it is as much a
movement toward the absence of the subject.
Jusques cette heure, tous ces miracles et evenements estranges se
cachent devant moy. Je n'ay veu monstre et miracle au monde plus
exprs que moy-mesme. On s'apprivoise toute estranget par l'usage
et le temps; mais plus je me hante et me connois, plus ma difformit
m'estonne, moins je m'entens en moy (I, 11, 1006).

The more Montaigne's "I" writes, reads its own writing, rewrites
it, moves toward the plenitude of the expression of the self in the
book, the more foreign it becomes to itself. It writes, at home, in
its house, the institution of the boundaries of the subject; the
more it is at home with itself, the more it finds itself wandering,
on strange, alien, other ground. The more it is an "I," the more it
is an other. Montaigne's subject, above all in its own realm, is
extravagant, excessive, at once in itself and outside itself. Putting
itself outside itself, expressing itself, making itself "exprs" writing to become a subjectit becomes a "monstre." Time only
increases the distance and the difference, as with the portraits;
time spent on the book, on adding to it, augments the diversity of
the members composing it. The subject knows itself; but to know
itself is to know its own absolute alterity.
This sort of knowledge, while moved by the desire for the
unification of the subject, can continue moving only because it
renders its own object unattainable, even concretizes, materializes, the latter's unattainability, in the writing that traces the lines
of the path on which it moves. Tracing and movement never
end: "Qui ne voit que j'ay pris une route par laquelle, sans cesse
et sans travail, j'iray autant qu'il y aura d'ancre et de papier au
monde?" In its appropriations the book may extend throughout
the world; but only in such a way that it forms an agencement
with the world, that its realm of the proper becomes utterly
heterogeneous. The Essais produce, institute, a subject that constantly resituates subjectivity, without allowing the institution of a
hierarchy. But the desire necessary to this production also goes

Montaigne's"I"

181

beyond itself, and renders a unified and controlling authorsubject in any number of its rereadings and rewritings. Drawing
on the desire of the text, traversing the pages, certain agencies
have grasped this subject: the Essais, a book that has been
reread and rewritten, have written a subject that has been
appropriated by modernity as author and authority, the locus of
knowledge and agency. Such a reading of Montaigne suggests
the need to examine the writing of Descartes and the appropriations of the cogito. Read in and through the layers of its texts,
this subject may be viewed as something else, namely, as the site
of institutional and institutionalized desire, a body that will not
be one.
University of Minnesota

The Relationship between Du repentir (III, 2)

and De mesnager sa volont (III,10):
Conscience in Public Life1
Michael J. Giordano
In considering various thematic structures among Montaigne's essays, Marianne Meijer has demonstrated the usefulness
of studying the Essais as related chapters. Without denying that
they can be read "en tant que pices dtaches," she convincingly
shows that an unsuspected but significant connection can emerge
by focusing on the work as a relation of chapters:
En considrant les essais en tant que chapitres, en pesant les relations
avec les essais qui prcdent et qui suivent, nous nous rendons parfois
compte d'une trame ou d'un fil conducteur qui, en soulignant certains
aspects, attirent notre attention sur des significations qui nous
auraient chapp autrement.2

For example, she has analyzed how the opposition utile/honnte

broached in De l'utile et de Vhonneste underlies and serves to
develop different but complementary themes in Du repentir (III,
2), Sur des vers de Virgile (III, 5), and Des coches (III, 6). She concludes, in essence, that men and conquistadors dishonestly create
false images of women and Indians because they find it useful to

1
The first version of this study was presented at the International
Montaigne Colloquium on the Order of the Book, October, 1988, at the
University of Massachusetts-Amherst. I would like to thank Daniel Martin,
Patrick Henry, and James Supple for their very helpful comments on the first
draft of this essay. Any faults are my responsibility.
2
"De l'honnte, De l'utile, et Du plaisir," Bulletin de la Socit des Amis de
Montaigne, 6e srie, No. 11-12 (1982), 48.

Du repentir (III, 2) and De mesnager sa volont (III, 10)

183

exploit the ones and destroy the others.3 Meijer's method is

profitable since, by pursuing the interrelations of chapters as the
Essais's significant unit of meaning, she reveals continuity in contexts little explored.
I wish to make use of this approach and examine two essays
in Book III that have rarely been studied together in the way I
propose, namely, as the relationship between conscience and
public life.
The tensions that Montaigne experiences in reconciling private and public commitment are a significant problem of Book
III. Among the essential questions he poses in this regard are
whether and to what degree an individual should compromise
principle to political efficacy, whether the socially useful can be
morally honorable, how to achieve balance between personal and
public duties, and how to domesticate desire in order to
safeguard this equilibrium. Though I will not attempt to address
all these problems, there is one key question that is central to
them to which I will respond. By what criteria of conscience does
Montaigne guide his socio-political conduct?
Two pairs of essays suggest responses to this problem both
by their thematic relationships and their positioning as back to
back chapters. The first of these couples is De l'utile et de
Vhonneste (III, 1) and Du repentir (III, 2).4 As Meijer has
demonstrated, both essays concern the conflict of conscience
between the useful and the honorable. The first chapter deals
with this problem in the socio-political realm and the latter in the
religious. In De Vutile et de Vhonneste Montaigne's honesty will
not allow him to approve of the conventional Machiavellian wisdom that "Le bien public requiert qu'on trahisse et qu'on mente
et qu'on massacre" (791) in the service of king, country, or law.
In the next chapter, Montaigne evaluates the distinction in
Catholic dogma between contrition (complete repentance for
one's sins and the firm resolutions not to repeat them) and attrition (incomplete break from sin). The thrust of the essay is that,

Ibid.
All references to the Essais are taken from the Villey-Saulnier edition, 2
vols. (Paris: Press Universitaires de France, 1965). Arabic numbers in
parentheses refer to the page of the quotation.
4

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Michael J. Giordano

however useful attrition be in disposing us to grace, Montaigne

will not call this repentance. Thus, according to Meijer, the first
two chapters of Livre III of the Essais "forment un dyptique dont
un volet justifie sa conduite envers les autorits terrestres... et
l'autre sa conduite envers l'autorit divine."5
The second pair of essays that bear on Montaigne's ethical
standards in public life are De la vanit (III, 9) and De mesnager
sa volont (III, 10). In the former essay, Montaigne digresses
from the topic of travelling to comment on the contemporary
moral climate in France. Here he eloquently advocates political
conservatism as the most prudent strategy for assuring order in
times of civil strife and social upheaval. Among the reasons for
his political conservatism are the destructive effects of "innovation" (958), the resilience of custom in maintaining stability (957;
959), the dangers of attempting to apply political theory to complex realities (957), and the force of necessity that "compose les
hommes et les assemble" (956). In De la vanit Montaigne
speaks as an outside observer commenting on the internecine
conflicts of his age, while in De mesnager sa volont he speaks
from the inside of political power, deriving his authority from the
experience of his mayoralty.6 In De mesnager Montaigne
responds to the criticism that he was a passive mayor by invoking
the conservative principle already enunciated in De la vanit that
forbearance in tempestuous times is a virtue. In fact, Montaigne
deems his mayoralty a success because he has assured order
through the judicious use of political restraint. Echoing De la
vanit where Montaigne sets custom above reform, De mesnager
advances the notion that conserving deep seated French traditions offers the best hope for preserving the state:
Je n'avais qu' conserver et durer, qui sont effects sourds et
insensibles. L'innovation est de grand lustre, mais elle est interdite en
ce temps, o nous sommes pressez et n'avons nous deffendre que
des nouvellets. L'abstinence de faire est souvent aussi genereuse que

"De l'honnete, de l'utile et du repentir," Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 12, 2 (1982), 274.
6
An updating of the historical background of De mesnager sa volont may
be found in Gralde Nakam, Les "Essais" de Montaigne: Miroir et procs de leur
Temps (Paris: Nizet, 1984), pp. 445-51; and Gralde Nakam, Montaigne et son
temps: Les vnements et les "Essais" (Paris: Nizet, 1982), pp. 158-69.

Du repentir (III, 2) and De mesnager sa volont (III, 10)

185

le faire, mais elle est moins au jour; et ce peu que je vaux est quasi tout
de ce cost l (1023).

Thus, the important connection between these two essays is that

they demonstrate Montaigne's consistency between espousing
conservative principles in a meditation on social ethics {De la
vanit) and practising them as mayor of Bordeaux {De mesnager).
The principal question posed at the outset of this study was what
standards of conscience does Montaigne invoke to guide his public conduct? Though all four essays discussed are relevant to this
problem, two essays of this group are so related as to establish
the best answer to this question. The most suitable couple consists of Du repentir and De mesnager sa volont; indeed, the former work stands as a fundamental statement on the criteria of
conscience which Montaigne applies to his mayoralty in De mesnager sa volont. No other essay develops the hallmarks of conscience as comprehensively as Du repentir, and no essay better
examines Montaigne qua public servant as De mesnager sa
volont.
***

The concept of conscience that Montaigne gives in Du

repentir embraces two general moral powers. The first is conveyed by the Greek term syneidesis, which means "with knowledge," either with an intimate part of oneself or with others.7 In
this sense, it designates Montaigne's double activity of selfknowledge (the self observing the self) and confession before the
public (awareness of self as the object of another's observation).
Montaigne stresses the first sense of self-awareness when he
boasts that of all possible subjects for his book, he has chosen
himself, and in this, he is the most learned:
Aumoins j'ai cecy selon la discipline, que jamais homme ne traicta
subject qu'il entendit ne cogneust mieux que je fay celuy que j'ay
entrepris, et qu'en celuy-l je suis le plus savant homme qui vive
(805).

Readers of Jerome Schwartz's "'La Conscience d'un homme': Reflections on

the Problem of Conscience in the Essais" will notice the debt I owe to him regarding
the history of this subject. See "O un Amy!" : Essays on Montaigne in Honor of
Donald M. Frame, ed. Raymond C. La Charit (Lexington. Ky.: French Forum,
1977), p. 248.

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Michael J. Giordano

On the other hand, Montaigne recognizes full well that as a

member of society, he is understood by the public as a cultural
construct. In consequence, the confession he makes is the result
of the positive and negative sanctions he feels before the various
institutions (religious, political, literary, etc.) that judge him. The
very polite apology he gives for admitting that he rarely repents
("Excusons icy ce que je dy souvent que je me repens rarement,"
806) indicates his sense of public, or more particularly, religious,
disapproval. Montaigne's self-knowledge thereby includes that
part of him socially defined.
The second moral power of conscience is an inner awareness
of an ethical standard or obligation expressed by the Stoics as
conscientia.8 But Montaigne gives us at least two such forms. On
the one hand, he refers to the innate capacity to pass moral jugment implanted in us by nature and reason: "Je tiens pour
vices...ceux que la raison et la nature condamnent" (806). On the
other hand, the emphasis that Montaigne places on universal
change and mutability in this essay indicates that he rejects such
permanent, ontological absolutes and opts for a subjective
standard based on the apprehensions of consciousness:
Je ne peints pas l'estre. Je peints le passage: non un passage d'aage en
autre, ou, comme dict le peuple, de sept ans en sept ans, mais de jour en
jour, de minute en minute. Il faut accomoder mon histoire l'heure. Je
pourray tantost changer, non de fortune seulement, mais aussi d'intention.
C'est un contrerolle de divers et muables accidens et d'imaginations
irresolues et, quand il y eschet, contraires: soit que je sois autre moymesme, soit que je saisisse les subjects par autres cir-constances et
considerations (805).

What Montaigne does choose as a basis for conscience is the

"patron au dedans" that judges the propriety of our actions based
on the subjective rule of honesty:
Nous autres principalement, qui vivons une vie prive qui n'est en montre
qu' nous, devons avoir estably un patron au dedans, auquel toucher nos
actions, et, selon iceluy, nous caresser tantost, tantost nous chastier. J'ay
mes loix et ma court pour juger de moy, et m'y adresse plus qu'ailleurs
(807).

But what are the criteria of honesty and how are they marked?
Though Montaigne does not, of course, expound a formal system
of ethics, we cannot conclude that he is not in a certain sense

Schwartz, pp. 248-49.

Du repentir (III, 2) and De mesnager sa volont (III, 10)

187

systematic. In Du repentir he makes his standards known by distinguishing between true and false repentance, from which it is
possible for the reader to infer such marks. As I identify and
explain each criterion, I will point out the way in which
Montaigne adapts it to De mesnager sa volont.
In Du repentir Montaigne avows that whatever others may
think, he cannot repent because this would be inconsistent with
his 'forme maistresse" (811). This may be defined as the innate
tendency towards uniformity, constancy, and order that resists
external coercion and internal sedition: "il n'est personne, s'il
s'escoute, qui ne descouvre en soy une forme sienne, une forme
maistresse, qui luicte contre l'institution, et contre la tempeste
des passions qui luy sont contraires" (811). As Jules Brody has
analyzed, Montaigne plays on the root forme in this essay to
depict his sense of a constant, fundamental self that withstands
change, and to emphasize that, though he may be ill-formed, he
cannot be re-formed, either physically or ethically.9 By applying
this principle to cases of dubious repentance that he has
observed, Montaigne affirms his honesty and identifies those
forces that threaten to undermine this value. Thus, he contends
that one cannot repent of deeply rooted vices that have become
second nature, nor can we repent of what is beyond our control.
Similarly, partial repentance is rejected because it does not touch
the whole of our being, as is inadequate repentance which reveals
that we are willing to connive with sin. Montaigne's principal
point is that if repentance be understood as a total change of
conduct (contrition, in the religious sense), then he could rarely
repent without lying.10
If in Du repentir Montaigne requires that we recognize the
forces that we cannot change, he nevertheless in De mesnager

'"Du repentir' (III, 2): A Philological Reading," Yale French Studies, 64

(1983), pp. 238-272. Other studies suggesting a connection between Du repentir and
De mesnager sa volont are: Donald M. Frame, "Observations sur le chapitre 'Du
repentir' des Essais de Montaigne (III, 2)" in tudes Montaignistes en hom-mage
Pierre Michel, ed. Claude Blum and Franois Moureau (Genve: Slat-kine, 1984), pp.
107-108; and Marcel Tetel, "Michel et Montaigne ont toujours t un," in Les Ecrivains
et la Politique: Actes du Colloque de Bordeaux (Bordeaux: Presses Universitaires de
Bordeaux), p. 215.
10

Meijer, "De l'honnte, de l'utile et du repentir," 271.

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Michael J. Giordano

exhorts us to acknowledge and apply the self-control of which we

are capable. While these two essays develop contrasting perspectives on conscience and conduct, the principle they espouse is the
same. Just as Montaigne stresses uniformity, consistency, and
constancy to justify his position on repentance in Du repentir, so
does he call on forms of these values in Du mesnager to restrain
passion.
If in De mesnager we find Montaigne's Senecan advice on
self-control criss-crossing and interpenetrating with an apologia
of his mayoralty, it is because he wishes to establish a relation
between self-mastery and political restraint. Just as inward
government should control unruly desire (volont), so should
public government temper the tendency to reform.11 Montaigne
invokes this standard of conduct to parry the accusation that his
mayoralty was markedly inactive (1021). To defend this
rationale, he asserts that moderation is the prudent antidote for
tempestuous times. Thus, his private morality, concerned with
preserving the "forme maistresse," comes to guide his political
philosophy. Inordinate desire can assume the force of an
autonomous, mutinous agent driving us outside of ourselves
(1006). In order to protect integrity and ensure constancy,
Montaigne affirms two general qualities that direct his behavior,
one passive the other active. The first is impassivity: "Au pris du
commun des hommes, peu de choses me touchent.... J'espouse, et
me passionne par consequant, de peu de choses" (1003). The
second takes up a large part of De mesnager and consists of more
active ways to "brider mes passions" (1018): moderation (1014),
equanimity (1021), patience (1014-1016), skepticism regarding
"innovation" (1023), and turning away from overly charged, emotional situations from the start (1017-1019). "Raison" is in this
category as well, and its work is to assure balance in judgement
(1013-1016). The equilibrium that Montaigne wishes to achieve
between "proper self-possession"12 and public life is so delicate

11
The volont of which Montaigne speaks is not to be confused with
Cartesian volontarisme, which is the power of the soul that inclines us to virtue
under the guidance of reason.
12
Donald M. Frame, Montaigne's Discovery of Man: The Humanization of a
Humanist (New York: Columbia University Press, 1955), p. 152.

Du repentir (III, 2) and De mesnager sa volont (III,10)

189

that he will make the finest of distinctions between active and

passive conduct. He will let things touch him but not possess
him; or he may attach himself to a situation without plunging into
it (1003). A final tactic used by Montaigne to safeguard stability
and uniformity is put forth by Tetel in his study of De mesnager.
He considers the author's unifying trait to be nonchalance, which
he describes as this "puissance sous une langueur" that provides
the principal modus operandi joining "le maire, l'homme public,
et l'essayiste."13
A second mark of good conscience described in Du repentir
and reinvoked in De mesnager is found in various contexts of the
word "chez.' This term and its synonyms refer to one's residence,
private life, or innermost self. When Montaigne speaks of the
"forme maistresse" understood as identity, he has recourse to this
domicilary metaphor. His purpose is to nuance and explain the
positive attributes of the "forme maistresse" and to offer these
qualities as moral ideals to be emulated. In Du repentir we can
distinguish the crucial meanings of these "chez" images, though it
must be kept in mind that they are closely interrelated. (1)
Montaigne urges us to judge the souls of others "quand elles sont
chez elles" or when they are closest to repose in "leur naifve
assiette" (810). Under these circumstances, we would be in the
best position to assess their "inclinations naturelles" (810). (2) In
another context, Montaigne underlines the necessity for limiting
undue variability. Despite the tempest of passion and the force
of education, his "forme maistresse" nearly always keeps him in
place: "Si je ne suis chez moi, j'en suis tousjours bien pres" (811).
(3) This same metaphor reappears in another passage to structure a paradox. It is in the mediocrity of private life that we
achieve greatness. Humility should be our true ambition, and
thus we ought to prefer the example of Socrates to that of
Alexander. Virtue in a public figure is better revealed "au
dedans, chez luy" where "tout est tumultuaire et vile" (809). (4)
Finally, Montaigne's aspiration to lead a well ordered life, regulated by the correct application of the will such order is best

13
Tetel, p. 224. Robert Cottrell has observed that Montaigne also accounts for
his stability through the feelings of laxness and insouciance that he associates with
manliness and valor. See Sexuality/Textuality (Columbus: Ohio State University
Press, 1981), p. 24.

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Michael J. Giordano

tested "en sa maison, en ces actions ordinaires, desquelles nous

n'avons rendre raison personne" (808).
In De mesnager Montaigne's impassivity might appear to
make the private self egotistical, but he is really correcting the
imbalance of his times that overvalues altruism at the expense of
sacrificing the self. The author's main concern, as one study puts
it, is "to reassert the rights of the self in relation to the other."14
Much of this essay reapplies the meanings of "chez" given above
to public life, so much so that Brody has observed that "the entire
essay De mesnager sa volont is built around this metaphor."15
The very title is significant in this regard. For the infinitive, the
latin root is mansionaticum {maneo + tio with manseo meaning (1)
the fact of remaining or staying; (2) continuance (in a state or
condition); (3) a place where one stays, abode, dwelling.16
Huguet gives "s'occuper du mnage, du gouvernment de la
maison, du travail domestique" as well as the synonym
"administrer." Offering advice that is consistent with his title,
Montaigne cautions against over extending the self in public
affairs: "Tu as bien largement affaire chez toi, ne t'esloingne pas"
(1004). Since civic duties and public acclaim make us more
prodigal with our lives than with our money, he transforms the
domicilary imagery into locative and commercial terms:
Les hommes se donnent louange. Leurs facultez ne sont pas pour eux,
elles sont pour ceux qui ils s'asservissent; leurs locataires sont chez eux,
ce ne sont pas eux... il faut mesnager la libert de nostre ame et ne
l'hypothequer qu'aux occasions justes. (1004).

The ideals of self-possession and self-containment advanced in

Du repentir are expressed in De mesnager as the victory of selfcontrol over impetuosity, of equanimity over extremes: "Celuy
qui se porte plus moderement envers le gain et la perte, il est
tousjours chez soy" (1009). Montaigne frequently defines the
"chez" metaphor by opposition, and the most memorable of these

14

Patrick Henry, Montaigne in Dialogue: Censorship and Defensive Writing

Architecture and Friendship, the Self and the Other (Stanford: Anma Libri, 1987),
p. 109.
15

"'Du repentir' (III, 2): A Philological Reading," 249, n.12.

16

Oxford Latin Dictionary (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1982).

Du repentir (III, 2) and De mesnager sa volont (III, 10)

191

in De mesnager is the loignement of his father.17 Through

excessive concern for the public welfare, the paternal error consisted of separating himself from "son mesnage," "sa sant," and by
"longs et penibles voyages" from his country (1006).
It must be stressed that these domicilary and locative images
help to explain how in De mesnager Montaigne is able to accept
public service while in previous essays he had resisted the threat
of compromising his private self. In the balance he seeks,
Montaigne makes a firm commitment to his mayoralty but will
keep his essential self at a salutary distance. Avoiding the
extremes of sacrificing the self or abandoning public affairs, he
modifies his earlier aversion to social engagement by declaring:
"Qui ne vit aucunement autruy, ne vit guere soy" (1007).
In Du repentir the opposition between Socrates and
Alexander leads to advice on the virtues of modesty that is taken
up in De mesnager regarding the meretricious allure of public life.
This important parallel is my third relation between the two
essays. Of course, to ascribe modesty to Montaigne, as Margaret
McGowan has argued, is to invite complication concerning the
essayist's sincerity.18 During the Renaissance, a writer's claim of
unpretentiousness or diffidence was so ingrained as a rhetorical
convention that the reader could legitimately suspect at least
some dissimulation. However, in the context of modesty, Du
repentir develops a topic about which Montaigne appears candid
and unreserved: the virtues of private life. Though the "chez"
metaphors have already touched on this point, I will now
approach it form the viewpoint of humility. The subjects of
modesty and la vie prive intersect at the contrast between
Socrates and Alexander. Montaigne lauds the philosopher's
"exercitation basse et obscure" (809) as opposed to the warrior's
thirst for glory and conquest. Socrates' life is exemplary precisely
because he has mastered the difficulties of ordinary existence; he
personifies the principle that "Le pris de l'ame ne consiste pas

17

On the relation between Montaigne and his father, see Franoise Charpentier, "Accepter la Mairie: Un Dchiffrement," in Les crivains et la Politique, pp.
37-46.
18
Montaigne's Deceits (London: University of London Press, 1974), pp. 1-19.

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Michael J. Giordano

aller haut, mais ordonnement" (809). Advising that we should

do "par conscience ce que nous faisons pour la gloire,"
Montaigne inverts the usual hierarchy by finding "grandeur...en la
mediocrit" (809). In De mesnager, Montaigne's adherence to
the Socratic example underlies a significant part of his criticism
of contemporary politics. First, he informs us that his personality
contrasts with and counterbalances the excesses of his era: "Mes
humeurs sont contradictoires aux humeurs bruyantes" (1021).
The very traits he values ("qualitez quietes et obscures," 1021)
are exactly the remedy for the "agitation et ostentation" that can
deceive or blind the public. Having accepted his charge as mayor
"sans ambition" (1005), it is not unexpected that he upbraid his
contemporaries for their feverish pursuit of "renomme" (1022).
Montaigne alludes to his unpretentiousness by citing a family
characteristic: "Je suis nay d'une famille qui a coul sans esclat
et sans tumulte" (1021). Most of all, his political goals are
modest and conservative ("Je n'avois qu' conserver et durer"),
and they counter the pressing dangers of "innovation" and
"nouvellets" growing out of the Reform (1023). In an essay that
parallels philosophic control of passion with political restraint,
De mesnager ultimately ties modesty to the Socratic lesson of circumscribing desire to the minimum:
La pauvret des biens est aise guerir; la pauvret de l'ame, impossible
.... Socrates, voyant porter en pompe par sa ville grande quantit de
richesse, joyaux et meubles de pris: Combien de choses, dict-il, je ne
desire point (1009).

This moral trait of modesty linking Du repentir and De mesnager

leads to a rhetorical one. In the latter essay, Montaigne, while
criticizing "innovation," describes it as being "de grand lustre"
(1023). This image is opposed to the one depicting his character
in the autoportrait: "Je propose une vie basse et sans lustre"
(805). Both essays have strong autobiographical appeal,19 and as
Franois Rigolot has observed, one of the genre's most compelling rhetorical procedures is to emphasize the writer's imperfections. When the author banalizes his life, he heightens mimesis
and referentiality, which in turn move the reader to judge his

19
I agree with the distinction between "autoportrait" and "autobiographie" made by
Michel Beaujour, but I do not find these terms mutually exclusive. See his excellent
study Miroirs d'encre (Paris: Seuil, 1980), pp. 7-26.

Du repentir (III, 2) and De mesnager sa volont (III, 10)

193

account as genuine.20 Whether or not we are in fact persuaded

by this strategy, Montaigne carries it over to De mesnager. In Du
repentir he assures us that "une vie populaire et prive" reflects
human nature as well as "une vie de plus riche estoffe," because
"chaque homme porte la forme entiere de l'humaine condition"
(805). Du repentir makes autobiography the self-reflexive subject
of discourse to generalize about the honesty of the Essais and to
erase the seams between life and work. Thus, while reading De
mesnager, we already have in mind a major context of conscience
which may be used to judge Montaigne's claims of humility. In
this essay, this virtue plays an important role in justifying
Montaigne's prudent conservatism. For if "innovation" is "de
grand lustre," beguiling politicians and people with false promises
of fame and societal reform, Montaigne will resist its temptation
and thereby put the public welfare above his personal popularity.
Thus, from the viewpoint of rhetoric, De mesnager makes
Montaigne's modesty appear more convincing, less contrived,
and less of a parti pris by trying its political ethos to the moral
advice given in Du repentir.
In Du repentir, Montaigne holds that "On ne peut se vanter
de mespriser et combattre la volupt, si on ne la voit, si on
l'ignore" (816). James Supple infers from this passage that "In
the realm of ethics, lucidity is the essential precondition for the
attainment of true virtue." 21 Such a premise is implicit in
Montaigne's preoccupation with the epistemological problems
centering around self-deception, deceit, and illusion. Through
reflection on repentance Montaigne shows that conscientia
relates self-knowledge to moral criteria, a principle he transfers
to public life in De mesnager. In the first of these essays,
Montaigne maintains that repentance is fundamentally an interior change ("la repentance...naist au dedans," 806) and not a surface one: "Je ne cognoy pas de repentance superficielle,
moyenne et de ceremonie" (813). Consequently, he warns that

20

"La Pente du 'repentir': Un exemple de remotivation du signifiant dans les

Essais de Montaigne" in Columbia Montaigne Conference Papers, eds. Donald M.
Frame and Mary B. McKinley (Lexington, Ky.: French Forum 27, 1981), pp. 119-134.
21 "'Du repentir': Structure and Method" in Montaigne in Cambridge, eds. P.
Ford and G. Jondorf (Cambridge: Cambridge French Colloquia, 1989), p. 81.

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Michael J. Giordano

we should be able to distinguish our essence from our role, our

person from our persona. This rule informs Montaigne's famous
distinction at the outset of the essay that he will represent his life
as "Michel de Montaigne, non comme grammairien ou pote ou
jurisconsulte" (805). A similar context obtains in De mesnager
when he proclaims "Le Maire et Montaigne ont tousjours est
deux, d'une separation bien claire" (1012). Montaigne extends
this distinction to his mayoralty by showing that lifting the mask
is essential to communication and self-communication. Even an
emperor, he maintains, "doit savoir jouyr de soy part et se
communicquer comme Jacques et Pierre, au moins soy-mesme"
(1012). However, in the same essay, Montaigne states that
although the mask may deceive, he will nevertheless exploit its
power over others when he finds it useful: "Ay-je besoing de
cholere et d'inflammation? Je l'emprunte et m'en masque"
(1021). We may infer from these words that since Montaigne
justifies dissimulation, the distinctions he makes between
intrieur/extrieur, essence/masque do not correspond to an
absolute difference between good and bad. Rather, Montaigne
relativizes the morality of the mask, for role playing is not
intrinsically pernicious and can be quite legitimate provided that
we adhere to this precept:
Il faut jouer deuement nostre rolle, mais comme rolle d'un personnage
emprunt. Du masque et de l'apparence il n'en faut pas faire une essence
relle, ny de l'estranger le propre (1011).

Here as in Du repentir, ethical meditation on the mask is defined

in terms of self-obligation, that is, in terms of the necessity to be
lucid and self-contained. As opposed to an outsider observing
the interior of the other, Montaigne here stresses the perspective
of the inside by requiring that the role player be aware of his own
act. The implication is that deception is first and foremost selfdeception.
A second parallel between Du repentir and De mesnager
regarding the tre/paratre distinction reveals the importance of
restricting desire to the essential. In the former essay,
Montaigne holds that repentance is rarely possible because
deeply rooted vices cannot so easily be extirpated. Then he
applies this belief to the social realm. Reform based on
"nouvelles opinions" or on acclaim ("merite") changes only "les

Du repentir (III, 2) and De mesnager sa volont (III, 10)

195

vices de l'apparence" while running the risk of increasing the

vices "de l'essence" (811). Reforms that are too risky, or ambition for its own sake, might bring public adulation, but they tend
to augment strife while discouraging necessary improvements
(810). In De mesnager Montaigne translates this principle of
restraint into politics. We should bear in mind that he is writing
to correct the misperception of what he terms "L'abstinence de
faire" of his mayoralty (1023). He laments that people are more
taken with the appearance of activity than with prudence:
J'ay facilement oubli ceux [public acts] que l'ambition mesle au
devoir et couvre de son titre. Ce sont ceux qui le plus souvent
remplissent les yeux et les oreilles, et contentent les hommes. Non pas la
chose, mais l'apparence les paye. S'ils n'oyent du bruict, il leur sem-ble
qu'on dorme (1021).

It is significant that in this passage Montaigne associates

"apparence" and the misuse of political power with filling the
public's senses ("remplissent les yeux et les oreilles"). The verb
remplir links this paragraph with the fundamental lesson of De
mesnager to restrain the appetites. Here personal and public
duty converge, for the "abstinence de faire" is both political forbearance and the curbing of desire in general.
A fifth relation between both essays is suggested by Hugo
Friedrich who writes that in Du repentir "une autre volont, passive, prend la place du repentir."22 This is Montaigne's acceptance of the deterministic forces beyond his ability to control:
"Mes actions sont regles et conformes ce que je suis et ma
condition. Je ne puis faire mieux" (813). Indeed, the essayist
wants to correct his trangressions and would if he were able to
repent, but he does not hold himself responsible for powers that
he lacks: "Et le repentir ne touche pas proprement les choses qui
ne sont pas en nostre force" (813). The author will have little
regret if in his plans he incurs an unfavorable outcome. Since
there is a metaphysical order, he explains, which ordains that
certain events "devoyent ainsi passer," then he has been caught in
the great Stoic chain of causes (815). When at the outset of Du
repentir Montaigne entertains the possibility of improving his
being (since it is "bien mal form") he concludes to the contrary

22

Montaigne (Paris: Gallimard, 1968), p. 241.

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Michael J. Giordano

that "Meshuy c'est fait" (804). Conscience safeguards him from

the temptations of denying an ontological order and the depredations of time that limit his capacity to change. In De mesnager,
the Volont passive" to which Friedrich refers is one manifestation of Montaigne's impassivity that keeps him from overestimating his capabilities and reaching beyond his powers in the public
sphere. As in Du repentir, the subject is old age, but this time, in
conjunction with ambition, passion, and public office. Montaigne
cannot envision acceding to a new position or acquiring new
abilities because "Il n'est plus temps de devenir autre" (1010). By
avowing that he is "incapable de nouveliet, mesme corrective"
(1010-11), he is speaking directly about adapting to the
Gregorian calendar and indirectly about being "tout du pass"
(1010). He also criticizes "ces grandes dignitez electives" (1011)
given to men of advanced age, since they like him are "prests
partir" (1011). As he does in Du repentir, Montaigne reestablishes the proper temporal perspective to correct those who in
old age believe that they have mastered "leur passion" when it is
really corrosive time that saps desire. Such people "disent
souvent vray comme les choses sont, mais non pas comme elles
furent" (1016). It should be pointed out that if Montaigne recognizes the unchangeable, particularly the aging process, it is to
keep intact his sense of the past that has been integrated into
coherent stages of life. Nonetheless, it is paradoxical at the least
that he is so optimistic about essaying himself while acknowledging the full force of determinism. Statements such as "je suis
tout du pass" are highly ironic for a life in continual
apprenticeship and experimentation. However, the act of writing, the mutual nourishment between self and book, bring
Montaigne the wisdom of and tolerance for his limitations. As in
Du repentir where Montaigne refuses to blame himself for
unfavorable decisions and unavoidable errors (814), he concludes
De mesnager by admitting his "insuffisance en tels maniemens
publiques," but has no "regret" for his shortcomings (1024).
The foregoing analysis of the relation between Du repentir
and De mesnager sa volont allows us to conclude that Montaigne
tends to guide his public conduct by the norms of his private
ethos. The first essay suggests that there are principles of judgement derived from the subjective realm of conscience that direct

Du repentir (III, 2) and De mesnager sa volont (III, 10)

197

him on how to preserve the "forme maistresse": the selfconsistency of honesty, the self as domicile, modesty and
humility, restriction of desire to the necessary, the ability to distinguish between an essential and a superficial self, and the keen
understanding and acceptance of determinism. In various ways, these
principles underpin Montaigne's thinking in De mesnager with
respect to two significant issues: how to regulate desire in general
and how to lend oneself to the world without sacrificing one's
essence matresse. For example, the requirements of con-sistency,
stability, and uniformity in Du repentir appear in De mesnager sa
volont as methods of balance and self-control. Similarly,
Montaigne's insistence on distinguishing tre from paratre in the
first essay is taken up in the second as observations on both the
justification and the pitfalls of using the mask to enhance one's
authority. Most importantly, the Socratic dictum of moderation and
delimitation of desire in Du repentir cor-responds to Montaigne's
conservatism in his political goals to "conserver et durer."
On a fundamental level, Du repentir and De mesnager sa
volont refer the problem of conscience in public life to the ques-tion
of managing desire. In this regard, they are closely interre-lated
essays. The former work holds that there are passions that we cannot
control, and to attempt to repent for them could be (ironically)
inimical to both order and virtue: "Le repentir n'est qu'une desditte
de nostre volont et opposition de nos fantasies, qui nous pourmene
tous sens. Il faict desadvour celuy-l [Horace] sa vertu passe
et sa continence" (808). Conversely De mesnager sa volont teaches
that one must master one's desires ("volont") to avoid disrupting
the "forme maistresse" in socio-political life. By reading these two
essays as mutually illumi-nating texts, we learn that (1) managing
desire means that it is dishonest and counterproductive to claim that
we have mastered intractable passions, but that we must do all in
our power to assert the control of which we are capable; (2)
Montaigne tends to direct his public life by the principles of his
conscience; (3) commitment to the utile of public service requires
compromise, but such involvement need not seriously damage
one's moral

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Michael J. Giordano

integrity.23 Thus, from a logico-rhetorical perspective, neither

essay suffices in itself to inform us on the connection between
conscience and public conduct. Rather, they must be read as a
dynamic interrelation to see the fuller picture that Montaigne
sketches of the tensions between compromise and idealistic individuality.
Just as we must assimilate the problems of political commitment (De mesnager) to the criteria of conscience (Du repentir), so
must we assimilate this relation to the larger question of
domesticating desire. Since in different but complementary ways
both essays pose fundamental questions regarding the regulation
of passion, how does Montaigne attempt to adjust desire to conscious control? In De mesnager sa volont, while speaking of
balance in judgement, Montaigne finds that, unlike his contemporaries, he can see the reasonable side of another's argument even if that other belongs to an opposing faction. Offering
another viewpoint on the same subject, he says:
De mesmes, aux prognostiques ou evenements sinistres des affaires, ils
veulent que chacun, en son party, soit aveugle et hebet; que nostre
persuasion et jugement serve non la verit mais au project de nostre desir.
Je faudroy plustot vers l'autre extremit, tant je crains que mon desir me
suborne. Joint que je me deffie un peu tendrement des choses que je
souhaitte (1013).

In matters of self-interest, we really seek to fulfill desire instead

of pursuing the truth. Consequently, judgement and conviction
serve false goals and are led astray. Because of this selfdeception, Montaigne is suspicious of desire, and attempts to
rectify moral and epistemological errancy by choosing the opposite of his initial wish. Thus, the marks of moral wisdom come by
indirection. Montaigne finds and identifies the right path by his
mistrust of desire, or in other words, by negating the suspected
wrong path. Similarly, he sets out for the right road by turning

23
On a similar point, see John Parkin, "Montaigne Essais 3.1: The Morality of
Commitment," Bibliothque d'Humanisme et Renaissance, 41 (1979), 52. According to
Parkin, Montaigne would have found Cicero's standards of com-mitment "too inflexible"
(52). The ethic that Cicero espouses is based on the laws of citizenship, whereas
Montaigne's morality "spreads far wider than the sphere of citizenship" (51), since it
includes not only national law but also political parties, specific individuals (even
criminals), the world at large, one's family, and one's conscience and moral integrity.

Du repentir (III, 2) and De mesnager sa volont (III,10)

199

"vers l'autre extremit" since "mon desir me suborne." Neither

moral knowledge nor moral action is arrived at positively and
directly, but rather, by taking an opposite direction. In this
process of indirection, a moral and epistemological deception is
implied, and Montaigne moves to correct it by the vigilance of
contrariety. This may be a small and partial explanation for the
antinomies and contradictions that appear to make the order of
the Essais a disorder.24 But De mesnager sa volont shows that
Montaigne will essay the opposite of a given position as a precaution against the power of desire to deflect him from balanced
judgement.
Wayne State University

24

This is a signal subject, especially in the light of relatively recent studies that
see these traits as a critique of the very grounds of knowing and communicat-ing. In
chronological order, see Anthony Wilden, "Tar divers moyens on arrive pareille fin.' A
Reading of Montaigne," MLN, 83 (1968), 577-97; Jean-Yves Pouil-loux, Lire les
"Essais" de Montaigne (Paris: Maspero, 1969); Terence Cave, The Cornucopian Text
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1979); Andr Tournon, Montaigne: la glose et
l'essai (Lyon: Presses Universitaires de Lyon, 1983); Steven Randall, "On Reading
the Essais Differently," MLN, 100, 5 (1985), 1080-85.

Form, Reform, and Diformity

in Montaigne's "Du repentit"
Ian Winter
The second chapter of the Third Book of Montaigne's
Essais continues to attract scholarly attention for good reason.
What is most striking is that the essayist's many contradictions,
which in the first two books leave the bewildered reader with the
impression of a predominantly skeptical influence, are rather
abruptly interspersed with declarations of unity. Such declarations, voiced repeatedly in "Du repentir* are, it must be admitted,
no less disorienting, the reader having become accustomed to the
alluring theme of inconstancy. Nevertheless, these more positive
statements need to be confronted, and this research has been
well launched in recent studies, with Hugo Friedrich contributing
some early insights.1 I should like to attempt to develop further
the notion that in "Du repentir" the word forme and its derivatives
furnish the clue to new perspectives relating to the self-portrait,
moral change, and exemplarity. These questions are so fundamental in the search for the true significance of the Essais that
there is every reason for viewing "Du repentir" as the pivotal chapter of the Third Book.
The first and the last sentences of "Du repentir" embrace its
topic, its tone and its parameters. Montaigne's opening words
refer to himself deprecatingly as mal form,2 yet the final
sentence indicates a certain satisfaction. Even if senility were to
bring about a serious qualitative decline in his work, "A toutes
avantures, je suis content qu'on sache d'o je seray tomb" (III,

Hugo Friedrich, Montaigne, tr. Rovini (Paris: Gallimard, 1968), pp. 24142; see also Neil Larkin, "Montaigne's Last Words," Esprit Crateur 15 (1975), 2138; Lawrence Kritzman, Destruction/ Dcouverte: le fonctionnement de la rhtorique dans les Essais de Montaigne (Lexington, Ky.: French Forum, Publishers,
1980), 126-38; Ian Winter, "L'Emploi du mot 'forme' dans les Essais de
Montaigne" in Montaigne et les Essais, 1580-1980, ed. P. Michel (Paris-Genve:
Champion-Slatkine, 1983); Jules Brody, "'Du repentir" (III: 2): A Philological
Reading, " Yale French Studies 64 (1985) 238-272; Patricia Eichel, "Le Dmenti et
la sincrit," BSAM 7, no. 9-10 (1987), 35-48.
* Michel de Montaigne, Les Essais, ed. Pierre Villey (Paris: PUF, 1965),
III, 2, 804 (i.e. Book III, ch. 2, p. 804). All future citations will be taken from this
edition and will appear in the text in this form.

Form, [...] in Montaigne's "Du repentir"

201

2 817). What has been happening between these two points?

Has Montaigne changed the matter of his book? Has he swung
from negative to positive (or vice versa), and if so, to what
degree?
1. Form
I believe that this question was uppermost in Montaigne's
mind. He had revelled in presenting his self-portrait as formless,
as without any shape or cohesion and had hoisted, at least for a
while, the white emblem of skepticism, "Que say-je?" (II, 12,
527). But, if we look carefully, he now evokes a much different
image: "Le monde n'est qu'une branloire perenne. Toutes
choses y branlent sans cesse" (II, 2, 804). As Patricia Eichel
accurately states, right from the start this chapter is placed under
the sign of Nature,3 and it is not the unknown Nature of the
pyrrhonists, but a Nature which is Mother, a unifying supreme
good in which the wise man learns to place his full trust. In "Du
repentir" Montaigne briefly summarizes his life: "J'en ay veu
l'herbe et les fleurs et le fruit; et en vois la secheresse.
Heureusement, puisque c'est naturellement" (III, 2, 816). In
later chapters of the Third Book his regard for Nature will
develop into a paean of praise.
Knowing Montaigne's palinodial propensities, we can
predict that the words "bien mal form," as applied to himself,
will not be permitted to lie around loosely for long. The life
which he is depicting may be colorless and contradictory, but at
least it is natural and as such, "porte la forme entiere de
l'humaine condition" (III, 2, 805). In this well-known sentence,
with barely one stroke of the pen, Montaigne, to use Lawrence
Kritzman's words, "impose une forme l'informe."4 What the
essayist is attempting to reveal in his textin contrast to the preconceived, moralistic notions of what he ought to beis his very
own "estre universel" (III, 2, 805), with all its complexities and
variations. In order to ensure that there is no misunderstanding,

38.
4

On the role of Nature in "Du repentit", see Eichel's article (above, n. 1), p.

See Kritzman (above, n. 1), p. 130; Larkin also comments upon the
uniqueness of this point in Montaigne's text: a bridge is formed between "self"
and "other" (above, n. 1), p. 27.

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Ian Winter

and to obviate any attempt to separate the book from the self,
Montaigne reinforces the theme of unity by using a derivative of
forme and still maintaining the kinetic flow of the text: "Icy, nous
allons conformment et tout d'un trein, mon livre et moi" (III, 2,
806). In this claim for consubstantiality between the book and
the Moi, Kritzman sees the same "form in the formless" principle
at work as when Montaigne invoked "the complete form of the
human condition."5
It is perhaps time to inspect a little more closely the word
"form." As a verb it is used somewhat disparagingly at the
beginning of "Du repentir" to contrast his own goal with that of
other writers: "Les autres forment l'homme; je le recite..." (III, 2,
804), but as a noun Montaigne uses it most significantly in its
higher and more abstract sense. Plato described the ideal world
of forms, essences and universals, and his ideas and vocabulary
have informed most philosophies ever since. Generally speaking,
Montaigne finds forme more useful than its rival faon (forme[s]
has 239 incidences as opposed to 211 for faon[s], according to
Leake's Concordance),6 but there are many other words that
jostle forme semantically, such as allure, aspect, assiete, empreinte,
figure, impression, manire, patron, style. As I have elsewhere
stated, "If Montaigne has such frequent recourse to the word
forme in moral, religious or epistemological contexts, it is doubtless because of its irreproachable philosophical affiliations.7 One
of the most helpful definitions for our purposes has been given
by Neil Larkin: "Forme is a significant concept for Montaigne;
the word... tends to designate both an essence and the principle
of intelligibility whereby that essence can be perceived. This is
its primary meaning in 'Du repentir'."8
5

In other words, Kritzman considers the self-portrait to be based on "une ralit

existentielle", p. 132. In view of this, and of the strength of Montaigne's claim of
consubstantiality between book and self, it is difficult to accept "dis-course" as being
the essence of the Essais; nor can the "substance" embodied in the word
"consubstantial" be transformed into an illusion, as Jerome Schwartz implies when
stating, "the Self of Montaigne is none other than a Text," Stanford French Review IX
(Winter 1985), p. 328.
6

R. E. Leake, Concordance des Essais de Montaigne (Droz: Genve, 1981).

7 See my study on this question (above, n. 1), p. 261 (my translation).

8 Larkin's helpful summary of Montaigne's use of the word forme occurs in
"Montaigne's Last Words," p. 27, n. 7 (see above, n. 1).

Form, [...] in Montaigne's "Du repentir"

203

At the half-way point of the essay III, 2, Montaigne has

introduced certain strong references to justify his task of selfdescription and to place it on a firmer footing. Contradictions
and changes in man, and therefore in the self-portrait, are to be
expected as part of the natural scheme of things, but there still
remains a certain problem, as Patricia Eichel observes: "Si la
contradiction n'est pas une preuve de mauvaise foi, il s'en faut de
beaucoup qu'elle soit preuve de sincrit."9 It is here that
Montaigne saw fit to add a further plank, perhaps a further
dimension, to what he must have felt was a need to impose "a
form upon the formless." Despite having at one time stressed the
instability of man, he now insists that all individuals, if they listen
to themselves, have within "une forme maistresse" (III, 2, 811).
This dominant form, as applied to the essayist himself experientially, is cleverly presented in a context which is heavy on
stability but which by no means rules out mobility: "De moy, je
ne me sens guere agiter par secousse, je me trouve quasi tousjours en ma place, comme font les corps lourds et poisans. Si je
ne suis chez moy, j'en suis tousjours bien pres" (III, 2, 811).
Eichel links this text to another important moment in the
EssaisMontaigne's "Au Lecteur"and in particular to the liminal
sentence, "C'est icy un livre de bonne foy, lecteur." Her point,
that the notion of the "forme-maistresse" was indispensable in
order to confer psychological coherence on the Moi, that
Montaigne's credibility depended on it, and that it resulted
directly but gradually from Montaigne's continuous selfportrayal, is certainly well taken.10 It seems to me that beyond a
desire to give proof to others of his sincerity in the light of his
many contradictions, Montaigne is, in "Du repentir" asserting
self-confidence in the self-portrait, that is, that he has truly experienced what he has described and that the description accurately
portrays this experience. This is what he had already projected
in "Au Lecteur" with the two phrases "ma faon simple, naturelle
et ordinaire," and "ma forme nafve"; but by the time Montaigne
arrives at the Third Book, and especially in "Du repentir" he is
distinctly talking about abstract inner form, about universals and

Eichel (above, n. 1), p. 46.

10

Ibid., pp. 46-47.

204

Ian Winter

essences. He is indicating that, despite man's changeableness,

each individual possesses an essential inner stability, or stasis.
Montaigne's forme maistresse, I believe, surpasses mere sincerity,
and achieves the quintessential.11 It is an inner security, related
to the ataraxy of the ancient philosophers, but being much less
ideal, is more adapted to practical living.
Are there further forms of forme in "Du repentir"? There is
good reason to believe that there are. Having established his
forme universelle, and having insisted, as we shall shortly see, that
this essence of himself could not truly undergo any reform, either
by the action of himself or of any outside agent, Montaigne
clearly states that divine intervention is capable of bringing about
essential inner change: "Il faut qu'elle (la repentance) me touche
de toutes pars avant que je la nomme ainsin, et qu'elle pinse mes
entrailles et les afflige autant profondement que Dieu me voit, et
autant universellement" (III, 2, 813). The use of the first person
pronoun in the above text validates self-portraiture, and the body
metaphor of the entrails must refer to his essential, inner being.
Given the radical separation between becoming and being as
elaborated in the "Apologie de Raimond Sebond" (II, 12, 603),
given the infinite distance between man and God, Montaigne is
stating here that, although finite form can have no communication with infinite Form, at certain moments, and at an essential
level, infinite Form can effect salutary and moral change in the
finite. Just in case another interpretation of the previous citation
may be risked, or that there is doubt that Montaigne believes
divine intervention possible in the matter of repentance, we have
the following unequivocal statement: "Il faut que Dieu nous
touche le courage" (III, 2, 816). The Concordance12 lists 331
references to Deity (singular) in the Essais, and yet we still know
only the minimum about Montaigne's metaphysics. Problematic
as this question must be, it relates closely to his concept of form,
and therefore to the very heart of his creative genius.13
11
In his discussion of the full significance of forme maistresse, Brody detects its
origin in the Latin expression forma magistra, (see above, n. 1), p. 240, n. 2.
12

See note 6 above.

The fact that a question is problematic does not mean that it is insoluble.
Further study of Montaigne's allusions in the domain of metaphysics should be
undertaken; as well as more exhaustive research on possible influences of theological
thinkers.
13

Form, [...] in Montaigne's "Du repentir"

205

2. Reform
The fact that Montaigne's continuous and probing selfdescription over a period of years led to a reassurance of inner
stability does not really explain his negative attitude towards
reform or repentance. The bald statement, "Excusons icy ce que je dy
souvent que je me repens rarement" (III, 2, 806), has only the first
words to soften its impact. People had been burnt at the stake for
less. Perhaps in order to mitigate the shock, or to explain his
position further, Montaigne later appended an inter-esting (c)
addition,14 to which I will return. What is immediately arresting is
the continuing (B) text, a strong profession of allegiance to the
Catholic doctrine, "de naifve et essentielle sub-mission" (III, 2,
806). We know Montaigne's reputation for antinomy, but would
he go so far as to risk a palinode, especially in a chapter where he is
at such pains to point up the unity of his work? Would he make
such a direct attack on Church orthodoxy? Finally, would he be
so arrogant?
My answer to these questions is an unqualified negative
precisely because of what we are beginning to learn of
Montaigne's sense of forme. The basic remedy for any sort of vice
is moral wholeness: "Il n'est vice veritablement vice qui
n'offence, et qu'un jugement entier n'accuse" (III, 2, 806) This moral
integrity is a leitmotif of the chapter and is dynamically centered in
one word conscience.15 Even as he presents a list of crimes and
misdemeanors that might have tempted him, given the times in
which he lived, Montaigne rejects any involvement on his own part,
adding, "Ces tesmoignages de la conscience plaisent" (III, 2, 807).
The same inner feeling of moral content-ment surfaces when, at a
later date, he adds to the bare state-ment "je me repens rarement"
the following illuminating words: "ma conscience se contente de soy:
non comme de la conscience d'un ange ou d'un cheval, mais
comme de la conscience d'un homme" (III, 2, 806). My
interpretation of the interesting com-parisons in this text, in line with
the submission that follows it, is

14

The letters A, B and C in the Villey edition of the Essais refer to the three
chronological stages in the composition of Montaigne's text.
15
For the theme of moral integrity in "Du repentir" see Brody, pp. 261-64, and
Larkin, pp. 27-28.

206

Ian Winter

one of humility, the intent being to obviate any accusation of

arrogance. Montaigne's objection to repentance or reform (small
or capital initial R) is that the only worthwhile change to our nature,
which must be essential change, is not within our power. What
human beings possess is their individual, inner sense of judgment,
the higher or moral aspect of which is the conscience. Conscience
has always existed, ever since the time of Cain and Abel, but with
Montaigne we are not talking about a purely reasoned and secular
morality, but about a Christian morality that benefits from divine
support, as he clearly states: MOn doibt aymer la temperance par elle
mesme et pour le respect de Dieu, qui nous l'a ordonne, et la
chastet" (III, 2, 816). My conclusion at this point is that we cannot
truly consider the question of repentance, reform, regret, remorse in
Montaigne without a clearer idea of his ontology.16
3. Deformity
The moral and religious sense of forme which haunts "Du
repentir" is impressed on the reader's mind by illustrations of what
Montaigne considers to be contradictions of moral integrity. Jules
Brody explains in detail this "de-formity/con-formity opposition," and
points to "a cluster of other words, also built on the Latin deprefix."17 Larkin notes the greater or lesser role played by the
conscience in determining a person's moral or demoralized status,
and further shows that the conscience "can be for a time ignored or
deformed, though never with impunity."18 Despite the importance
of moral judgment in its role of bringing a person peace of mind, there
is no elaboration in "Du repentir** of the perfect conscience. What
does appear is not only the very human nature of the conscience,
especially Montaigne's, but also its relativity and even its
fallibility.19
16

The question of ontology in Montaigne is just as problematic as is that of

his metaphysics; but the deep Christian influences cannot be ignored; nor can
Stoicism; nor his concept of Nature, as Brody indicates, p. 263.
17

See Brody, pp. 256-258.

18

See Larkin, p. 29.

19

It is noteworthy that when Montaigne makes a list of his virtues in "Du

repentir" these are presented in a negative sense (III, 2, 807). Deconstructionists
point to the negativity of many of Montaigne's direct statements, especially those
relating to the self-portrait, see Schwartz (above, n. 5), p. 324.

Form, [...] in Montaigne's "Du repentir"

207

The very insight which inspires Montaigne to tell us of the

unity of the self and the book and which speaks of his forme
maistresse, equally anticipates its own deformity, and the culprit
will inevitably be senility. The conscience may strive not to be
deceived: "Nos appetits sont rares en la vieillesse; une profonde
satiet nous saisit apres: en cela je ne voy rien de conscience"
(III, 2, 815); but there is little hope that it will succeed because,
despite every effort to maintain the status quo, the mind
deteriorates with the body: "L'homme marche entier vers son
croist et vers son dcroist" (III, 2, 817). All he can say with
regard to senility is summed up by: "Je ne say en fin o elle me
menera moy-mesme" (III, 2, 817).
What do we therefore learn from "Du repentir"?
Montaigne has justifiably established the unity between the self
and his written word, and this great accomplishment is whispered
contentedly in his last sentence. Is this the portrayal of a perfect
or exemplary human being? Little is to be seen of this here, or
indeed elsewhere in the Essais. There is great depth on the question of forme, and for these insights each reader of Montaigne
remains forever in his debt. However, nowhere is there evidence
of the arrogance which insists that the Moi is the best or only
pattern. This corresponds with the blunt statement in "Au Lecteur": "Je n'y ay eu nulle consideration de ton service."20 The
reason for this is, I believe, fairly simple: Montaigne is aware of
Forme, in relation to which his forme maistresse must plead
ignorance, because in this context he has no idea where he stands
or how many deficiencies/deformities he possesses. He is therefore not saying "Follow me," he is saying "Follow yourself"!
University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee

20

Schwartz asserts that most of the statements in Montaigne's preface,

although negative, are not ironic, and so may be taken at face value (see above, n. 5, p.
324).

Montaigne en Montage: Mapping "Vanit" (III, ix)

Tom Conley
Concepts of montage rarely venture far from citadels of film
theory and history. Synonymous with Eisenstein, the term refers
to a branch of cinema studies that includes the apprenticeship of
film viewing and, generally, the production of meaning or symbolic process. Montage is understood to include the arts of editing, of composition, of visual rhythm, but also of conflict, rupture,
condensation, and movement of images. The first theoreticians
of montage drew the elements of their craft from works of art
and literature. Eisenstein compared its cinematic effects to the
ideogram, the nineteenth-century novel, and poetry. He disclosed that montage does not belong only to cinema; its strength,
he argued, resides in the affinities it holds with pictural and
graphic practices in writing. If, since the 1930s, montage has
become a refined component of media arts, it still remains to be
seen how its principles continue to inform past and present literature.
It may be that montage arches back to the versus intexti or to
figure poems from early Christian to Carolingian times, or that it
may be related, later, to emblematic traditions that take hold in
the first century of print culture. Montage operates where relations of tension and conflict develop from heterogenous combinations of lexical and pictural forms. Movement seems to
shimmer or oscillate through words and images. A considerable
amount of literature of the French Renaissance appears to be
constructed according to principles of montage. If historians
have noted how the period uses mobile relations of analogy,
resemblance, and of symbolic correspondences to engender passage between form and substance of language (Jacob, 1971, ch. 12), then montage cannot fail to pertain to movement, conflict,
and paradox of printed writing.

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209

Camouflage and dissimulation, two traits that mark much of

sixteenth-century writing, inform many of the operations that
Eisenstein and his students use to argue for dialectical cinema.
Figurai and discursive orders overlay each other; they defer and
reroute meaning put forward according to dialogical principles.
Writers develop mixed genres that in our age we rediscover
through experience of cinema and the plastic arts. If we are
inevitably destined to apprehend the past through current technologies,1 the gaps we sense in the difference between our age
and the Renaissance might also share analogy with what it felt in
respect to earlier times. Such is the theory of "disjunction" that
Erwin Panofsky (1960) advanced three decades ago and that perhaps typifies the period of flow, passage, and gradual shift in the
overlap of manuscriptural and print cultures. If, too, different
orders of knowledge exist concurrently in the early modern age,2
montage remains a useful principle for study of both historiography and stylistics. In fact, research has shown how practices belonging at once to oral and scriptual culture inform
Rabelais, Ronsard, and Montaigne: Gargantua and Pantagruel
evince technologies of different cultural origins or "speeds" that
are in riotous dialogue; Ronsard's poetry is written according to
serial patterns often inspired by both rhetorical and pictural
operations. In his autobiography Montaigne bequeathes a
bizarre genre fashioned from effects of oral discourse seen over
passage of time.
The Essais share uncommon affinities with montage. The
principle inflects their evolution, their emblematic and bilingual

1
See "L'opration historiographique" in Michel de Certeau, L'criture de
l'histoire (Paris: Gallimard, 1982), 80ff.
2
In The Printing Press as an Agent of Change: Communication and Cultural
Transformations in Early-Modem Europe, 2 v. in one (Cambridge: Cambridge UP,
1979) Elizabeth Eisenstein studies shifts in the order of memory, categorization, and
relay of knowledge in the evolution of manuscriptural and oral culture into the culture
of print. She sees different sensibilities and persistences mixed together, in "lap
dissolves" of cultural change that last not for fractions of seconds but over two
centuries. What she does for the history of transmission and retrieval of knowledge
her namesake performs in his theories of overiappings of figures and images in his
cinematic representations of history. The comparison is not fortuitous; we need only
recall the obsession with writing, space, and time evinced in in The Film Form and
the Film Sense, 2 v. in one (New York: Meridion Books, 1959), especially I, 28-84;
108-22; II, 3-68.

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Tom Conley

practices, and their play of material form. Our intention here

will not entail verifying principles of montage by staging their
rediscovery in Montaigne. We shall aim, rather, at disengaging
some of the dynamics of the graphic traits of the art that seems
to implement the ecstatic, restless, oblique, and prismatic style of
the Essais. Like the Essais, the evolution of Eisenstein's writings
on montage force his readers to avow that, although the theorist
aims at constructing an edifice of a "system" of production and
analysis, montage cannot be "properly conceptualized." It cannot
"be formulated in fixed concepts (...) but only designated by the
phenomena with which it is associated," leaving the imprint of an
"ambiguous relation to theory" (Aumont, 1988) or, at best, an
ensemble that grows into itself and refers to an increasingly specialized field or institution of reference. Any application of fixed
laws would risk distorting both the tenets of montage and the
specific play of discourse in the Essais.
The concept is nonetheless drawn from a practice of writing.
Notions of frame, fragment, and conflict derive from combinations of pictural and graphic material. Framing entails choice,
selection, and foregrounding of significant elements. When seen
in pictural space, a fragment indicates its position in respect to
both vertical (or paradigmatic) and horizontal (or narrative)
orientation by the cardinal surround of the frame. The paradigmatic axis is used to draw attention to compositional traits of a
shot while the narrative axis is concerned with their effects in a
volley of shots. Eisenstein extends and collapses the opposition
when he develops the concept of the hieroglyph. The latter combines both axes in a relation of language and figure. The
hieroglyph comprises both single shots and their succession.
Eisenstein remarks that "the copulation (perhaps we had better
say, the combination) of two hieroglyphs of the simplest series is
to be regarded not as their sum, but as their product."3 When
figurai and textual signs are treated together and of equal value
on the same register, conflict multiplies possibilities of meaning.
Areas of tension inside the frame include graphic vectors, superimposed planes, and juxtaposed volumes and masses. All of

In The Cinematographic Principle and the Ideogram," in The Film Form, 2829. Concepts of form, fragment, and conflict are developed in Aumont, 28-39.

Montaigne en Montage: Mapping "Vanit" (III, ix)

211

these function when framing, image-fragments of iconic and

linguistic material, and montage happen to be "three moments in
the same treatment of objects" (Aumont, 39). Eisenstein formulates these principles on the basis of languages seen in
motion. Discursive tensions also become visible within given textual frames. Segments of contained force emerge from narrative
continuities, but with disruptive effects that leave striated patterns of both visual and lexical shape in and among vocables.
Words and letters gain representative and even perspectival
forms that break the flow of meaning.
Montage becomes especially pertinent when the page of the
Essais is taken as an enclosure in which printed characters
emerge or dissolve. Typographical masses, such as the Latin
quotations in italic, are in dialogue with French in roman font.
Montaigne's metaphor of a figurai text, tendered in the first
sentence of "De Vamiti" (I, xxviii) suggests that mass, plane,
volume, and depth of field articulate a space that writing defines
as it moves through it. When seen on their white or amber
ground, the printed characters recall the force of an original
inscription of creation. In turn, letters define square units in a
line of typea montage in which serial relations are established
within meaning. Typographical units sally from the page as pictural forms that arrest the discourse and motivate language
beyond phonic or semantic limits.
Each typographical mark can thus embody the form of
physical objects or shapes; at the same time its platitude conveys
a highly arbitrary ensemble of signs.4 Two modes are at odds
with each other, their conflict establishing a montage of writing.
When seen as both arbitrary and motivated configurations, and

4
Geoffroy Tory theorizes a motivated relation between letter and body in the
allegorical alphabet of his Champ fleury (Paris, 1529). Gisle Mathieu-Castellani has
noted that Tory's system amounts to a "hyper-cratylism" that per-sists in the later years
of the century. In D'Aubign's Hcatombe Diane, the upper-case H can be taken as
a sign of the gallows that associates death and tor-ture with the goddess Hecate, in Le
corps de Jzabel (Paris: PUF, 1991), 80-82. Her remarks suggest that the notion of
"cratylism" in sixteenth- century French lit-erature is far more graphic and pictural than
the definition that critics generally obtain from Grard Genette. In this instance
Franois Rigolot furnishes a back-ground for Renaissance studies in "Cratylisme et
pantagrulisme," tudes rabelaisiennes 13 (1976), 115-32.

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Tom Conley

as simultaneously pictural and discursive modes, letters and

words become subject to anagrammatical recombination or
anamorphic distortion. Analyses have shown how "Des coches"
turns about the letter O; how the Roman numeral "v" above
'Sur des vers de Virgile" (III, v), rhymes with the two initials of
the nouns of the title and even signals, like the themes treated in
the essay, an androgynous sign or monogram combining figures
of the vulva and the tip of a stylus so as to flatten signs of sexual
dif-ference; that eleven of 'Des boyteux" (III, xi), uses its odd form
to play on a sign of menace that is transmuted into the text
("Com-bien trouv-je plus naturel et plus vray-semblable que
deux hommes mentent, que je ne fay qu'un homme en douze
heures passe, quand et les vents, d'orient en occident" [1032]).
These ciphers at play with the discourse indicate the presence
of hieroglyphic orders engendering movement that can be
grasped with the aid of Eisenstein's principles of
cinematography and ideogrammar.
A given letter, group of letters, or word can concretize or
scatter certain areas of meaning, be transformed into a picture
and, at the same time, figure in a collage over and under other
signs and pictures. Meaning continually wavers and flickers. Students of montage argue that pictural elements of writing require
psychoanalytical reading because they display manifest layers of
figures or ideograms that interpretation, a discourse that tends to
be invisible, glosses in view of articulating their latent content.
Since hieroglyphic constructions are comprised of two tracks of
speech and image, printed writing can also be seen and read as a
Freudian Bilderschrift. Marie-Claire Ropars-Wuilleumier (1981:
30) has remarked that Jacques Derrida translates Zusammensetzungen, the substantive Freud uses to describe the condensed language of dreams, as montage. Cinema is forever linked to writing
in a grammatological sense. Film allows readers and viewers to
study the broader "perspective of systems of expression and
meaning that pertain to writing and figuration."5 When conceived as montage, writing disseminates its relations of dif-

5
P. 35 (translation ours). The point is refined in craniques: le film du texte
(Lille: PUL, 1990), where analysis will "recourir une figure disjonctive dont le
rle semble bien tre, chaque fois, d'empcher le signe de se fermer sur soi, en
le rappellant sa diffrence" (18).

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213

ference across its own heterogenous shape. Figurai or iconic

shapes mark all discourse, such that one order is conveyed and
betrayed by the other.
This seems to be the character of "De la vanit"6 an essay
that displays an extended poetics of montage. Montaigne avows
that, "car quant parler en lisant son escript, outre ce qu'il est
monstrueux, il est de grand desavantage ceux qui par nature
pourroient quelque chose en l'action. Et de me jetter la mercy
de mon invention presente, encore moins"7 (963). The track or
sound of his "speech" in writing that is supposed to relay the oral
register of his work does not represent the more complex relations that the print holds with the essay's form. His words
include what they transcribe from voice but also articulate much
moreso much in fact that the characters, like political entities,
have themselves a "faon de se joindre et d'emplacer les uns
parmy les autres, souvent mieux que l'art ne les eust seu disposer" (956). "Unconscious" orders emerge from "vanit"
wherever voice is not invoked to regulate the more bizarre and
complex grotesques before our eyes.
If conflict, atomisation, and division mark cinematic expression, in "Vanit" an art of montage is concretized in the relation
that, first, letters hold with words and, second, that both letters
and words keep with the essay's themes of movement and rhapsody. Following the penchant that early modern print culture
shares for the mimetic traits of typography, the text builds a
hieroglyph. Printed characters embody shapes whose meaning
oscillates between their physical form and the abstraction of their
referents. Strung together, the characters yield the illusion of a
graphic meander weaving bizarre pictograms in and across
words. An order slowly emerges from the sum at the same time

6
Alfred Glauser notes, "La forme de l'essai 'De la vanit' semble dpendre aussi
de son thme: il est fait, peut-tre plus que d'autres essais, de dtours, d'aveux briss,
qui pourraient tre des calligrammes de vanit. La forme oratoire, l'ordre introduit dans
rcriture, auraient t une trahison," in Montaigne paradoxal (Paris: Nizet, 1972), 107
(stress added). Not by chance the date of pub-lication concurs with that of Derrida's
interrogation of voice and text. Glauser's intuition broadens the scope of Derrida's
conclusions about writing.
7
Les Essais, Edition de Villey-Saulnier (Paris: Quadrige/PUF, 1988), 963. All
reference to the Essais will be made to this edition and cited in the text above.

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Tom Conley

the verbal meander bends away from or breaks off its thread of
commonplaces. Myriad associations follow diverse and multilateral courses.8 Fragments of figures are embedded in other
fragments that simultaneously appear and disappear all over the
surface of the page.
As readers we are obliged to use our fancy to discern verbal
shards that recur in different syntagms, or to glimpse figures that take
hold, momentary hold, of our attention, in retinal suspen-sion,
before they dissolve again into the verbal mass of the essay.9 To
read is therefore to view, just as travelling is tantamount to
seeing (recalling the clich, voir et visiter, or the faculty of sight
contained in displacement, such that the art of seeing is contained
in the practice of travelling, in the port-manteau voyager). Often
we wonder if we are victim of fantasms that need to be redressed
by examination of context, topoi, etymology, or semantics. The
visual composition of the text, often set in what is called its
paragrammar (Riffaterre, 1978: 96ff), becomes so pervasive and
commanding that recurring signs call in question institutional controls
that dictate how a classical text will be received or set in a pantheon
of tradition.10
Mosaic shapes and mobile patterns emerge from the play of
words that serve as both figure and ground of each other. As ele-ment
of a hieroglyph the letter comes into view, disappears, and returns. It
remains within and outside of grammar, as a graphic mark possessing
an iconic shape that joins connections between the shape of the
letter, the human body, familiar objects, and abstract
configurations. At the same time, the letter represents

Robert D. Cottrell (1981) notes how Montaigne juxtaposes words that

both consolidate and divide their meaning. The same holds at the level of
graphemes, or letter-forms that comprise the units of the art (and, in dissimula
tion, the politics) of the Essais's montage. I have attempted to develop the point
in "Pictogramme et critique littraire" (1991).
9
The same pertains to cinema. In classical films repeated viewings will
invariably discover new elements as they leave other details aside. Some elements
are disinterred from memory, just as others will screen recollections of earlier
viewings.
10
In Rabelais's Carnival (Berkeley: U of California P, 1990), Samuel Kinser
calls these controlling effects the "stains" or "barnacles" that comprise much of the
controlling heritage that a strong text, such as Rabelais or Montaigne, always
impugns.

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215

the process and trace of renewed inscription.11 Typographical

marks prompt recall of the invention of the text through itself and,
at the same time, they cast into shadow themes, commonplaces, motifs, or associations elsewhere linked with the
shapes of the same letters.
Montaigne explains the art of montage in the ideolect of his own
dictionnaire: "Je m'esgare, mais plustot par licence que par mesgarde.
Mes fantasies se suyvent, mais par fois c'est de loing, et se regardent,
mais d'une veu oblique. (...) C'est l'indiligent lecteur qui pert mon
subject, non pas moy; il s'en trouvera tous-jours en un coing quelque
mot ne laisse pas d'estre bastant, quoy qu'il soit serr" (994).
Orthography of pert projects into its verbal frame a conflict of perd
and pert. The former invokes loss and the latter, by confusion with
percevoir (or parere), what appears or is gained in the movement of
illusion (Cotgrave: "Pert. Il pert, of Paroir; it appeareth"). Thus,
when he notes that his fantasies follow each other "from afar" and
look at each other with a veu oblique, the obliquity visibly inscribes
into the word an oblivion of time; at the same time we hear something
oublique or "forgetful" in the dazzle of the combination.12
Indiligence acquires virtue insofar as its tendency to lose a grip on
meaning also opens access to other meanings. Both the moy and the
reader are freed from the responsibility of producing limited
meaning from the raw material of printed language. When we
happen upon a "un mot dans un coing" that seems badly positioned or
insufficient to the architectural decor, the word will be set in place
"nonethe-less" because (a) coing is the visual homonym of coing, a
wedge that fills the absence of the "nooke, or corner" (Cotgrave) of
the same word, and (b) coing signifies the visibility of two- and threedimensional spaces by allusion to both an "angle" (of vision) and an
inscription or marking ("a coyne, or stamp, upon a piece of coyne")
that goes hand-in-hand with a typographer's puncheon and mould.
By the same token the visual alliteration, in "il s'en

11

Its myth of visibility is demonstrated in Freud's figure of the "mystic writingpad" in Jacques Derrida, "Freud et la scne de rcriture," in L'cture et la diffrence
(Paris: Seuil, 1967), 293-340, especially 323-25.
12
Scansion of oblique would appear to follow the law of ouisme, as noted in
Ferdinand Brunot (1967 reprint).

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Tom Conley

trouvera tousjours" indicates that the reader's destiny of "finding"

the edge of the verbal cornerstone amounts to the discovery of a
void everywhere in language. The text points to a simultaneity of
gaining and losing, of seeing and hearing, remembering and
forgetting shapes that appear and disappear in the same configuration. Trouver implies turning about a vacuous core, of perceiving a hole ("il s'en trou-vera") paradoxically filled by the verb
that turns about it.13
The "ambitious subtlety" of reading and writing is recast
everywhere else in the essay. "De la vanit" betrays an obsession
with ruin, repair, and dilapidation. Crumbling buildings are icons
of governments or polities held together with the dust and grime
of time or glue of inefficient symbolic traditions. Ruin characterizes the age of the essayist, his domicile, and his century. They
are in degeneration. Alluding to his urinary condition while
referring to the eaves of his home, he admits, "Ces ordinaires
gouttieres me mangent" (951). As for his ailing body, "ce que je
me suis mesl d'achever quelque vieux pan de mur et de renger
quelque piece de bastiment mal dol, 'a est certes plus regardant son intention qu' mon contentement (951); "je sentirois
moins lors la ruyne d'une tour que je ne faicts present la cheute
d'une ardoyse" (954).14 The coing left open by Montaigne's
inattention to his household is countered by the manical attention focused on the corporal traits of his style.
When topical and thematic geographies gain hold in the
essay, a dialogue of space, body, and verbal scatter comes into
view. So also does a gridding located between the printed discourse and the world to which it refers. Mobile and supple, the
grid tends to define a space on which movement of travel is

13
On the poetics of trouver, see Maurice Blanchot, "Parler, ce n'est pas voir,"
in L'entretien infini (Paris: Gallimard, 1969), 35ff.
14
In fact, ruyne marks the essay more than elsewhere in the volume (954, 962,
966, 975, 981, 989, 996, 997, 988). Since "vanit" deals with the author's ver-bal
waste, scansion of the word prompts a casual reading to associate uryne (pre-sent
wherever Montaigne refers to his kidney-stones) with ruyne, in a collasped cycle that
ruins (ruine), but whose dialogue with language leaves things reunited (reuny). A
homeopathic writing uses montage to function as an intermediary between the body
that assures the future of the French nation (as edifice) by absorbing in its letters and
verbal economy the waste of its current strife.

Montaigne en Montage: Mapping "Vanit" (III, ix)

217

mapped. Letters form junctures or criss-crossings that recur,

scatter words, and recombine with other graphemes or
vocables.15 The variations transpose an illusion of quasi-infinite,
cosmic space and, at the same time, they limit its extension
according to carefully inscribed units in serial disposition. The
montage that generates difference also creates a temporal
geography, a continuum of ruptures and contacts of body and
place. These constitute a montage that articulates four areas of
the essay. One entails combinations signalled in the title (its
emblem-structure) and its recurrence in the body of the text; a
second involves dissemination of the figures of the title in and
about the text in ways that produce a cartography intimately
related to the passages the author devotes to the poetics of travel
and writing. A third concerns the effacement of past and present
time through the relations that toponyms hold with the discourse.
Last, our attention will be drawn to the ending of "Vanit" just
prior to which the essayist reproduces the text of a Roman bulle,
a piece of touristic bric-a-brac, that he obtained during his recent
voyage to Italy. It forms a curious ending that winds back and
through the figures disseminated at the beginning.
The essay never quite begins where it is said to begin. The
number and title of "De la vanit" are framed by a grotesque of
discourse above and below, identified by rhyming marks that
ostensively underscore how his words are vainglorious and thus
flaccid. The pictural scheme announced in "De l'amiti" pertains
to the beginning of the ninth chapter, the final words of "De l'art
de conferer" and the initial remarks of "De la vanit." The words
appear as a surround framing a jewelled inscription at a center or
vanishing point:
Voil ce que la memoire m'en represente en gros, et assez incertaine-ment.
Tous jugemens en gros sont lches et imparfaits.

15

Basing their research on Nina Catach's history of orthography, Yves Cit-ton and
Andr Wyss show that the grapheme has been taken to mean an element that defines
writing as "un code substitutif et que les graphies signifient les phonies," in Les
doctrines orthographiques du XVIe sicle en France (Geneva: Droz, 1989), 10. By
calling in question the substitutive model of speech and writ-ing, they approach a
definition that shares affinities with L'criture et la diffrence (n. 11 above). They do
not, however, take up the hypercratylism (see n. 4 above) that further strains the
model of phonic substitution.

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Tom Conley
Chapitre IX De la vanit
Il n'en est l'avanture plus expresse que d'en escrire si vainement. (...) Ce
sont icy, un peu plus civilement, des excremens d'un vieil esprit, dur
tantost, tantost lache, et tousjours indigeste. Et quand seray-je bout de
representer une continuelle agitation et mutation de mes penses, en
quelque matiere qu'elles tombent.... (943-46, stress added).

Lche describes judgment at the end of "De Vart de conferer."

The same predicate adjective modifies the writer's "excremens"
in the next chapter three sentences below. The letter and text of
the number of "De la vanit" puns on things nine and new, or
"neuf" and neuf. An old topic indeed, "vanit" can only be
identified with the Old Testament ("vanity, vanity, all is vanity"):
yet what is old falls under the novelty of the figure of its opposite
in the play between number and discourse. Letter and number of
the essay move between ciphered and discursive forms, thus becoming elements of a hieroglyph or rebus.16 Thus, an implied
oblivion of the Bible complements the modernity of the text
below our eyes, the comparison ironically "elevating" the secular
work to a higher order, while lowering the sacred text down to a
common plane. Since numerical and lexical codes dissolve in and
out of each otherapparent allusion to Ecclesiastes being folded
into the first words of the essay-we can be sure that the incipit
functions as a subscription to the inscriptio and superscriptio of
the title and chapter-number. The broken emblem-rebus promotes a divided reading that bifurcates along discursive and
figurai axes. We are obliged to shunt to and from intelligible and
visible or graphic orders. From the outset a conflict is written
into the spacing and collage of the essay's composition.
If "De la vanit" can be read doubly, as a discourse on vanity,
age, and oblivion, another discourse emerges, simultaneously, on
novelty. Things new inhabit the place of things old. The title
thus summons the amphiboly of "De Vavanit" an essay on forward and backward motion (avant-it), on movement that goes

16
Rebus is understood in the context of Card and Margolin (1986,1: 278-90).
The fantasms that the text elicits to produce montage are often concretized in
exegetical remarks in critical editions. In both the Villey-Saulnier and Rat-Thibaudet
editions, a footnote ties the floating referent in "ce que la divinit nous en a si
divinement exprim" to Ecclesiastes.

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219

ahead while it concurrently regresses. The vocables that cue the

double trajectory are inscribed in the first sentence: "Il n'en est
l'aventure aucune plus expresse que d'en escrire si vainement"
(945). Alliteration of avanture and vainement produces a visual
rhyme that associates objects vain with those avant. Because it
takes up two commanding themes of travel and vanity, the chap-ter
puts in service two recurring markers to frame the meditation and to
grid its space. One, the title itself, "De la vanit" returns in the text
in order to inflect Montaigne's subsequent remark on his art of
titling, in which he states that "Les noms de mes chapitres n'en
embrassent pas tousjours la matiere; souvent ils la denotent seulement
par quelque marque" (994). As a rebus, "De la vanit" denotes itself
thus, since the single "marque" that also organizes the work is the
"neuf of ix, and the letters v, a, n, com-mon to "vanit" and "avant" of
" l'avanture." Like the recurring title, Vavanture happens to fall into
the fabric of the essay more often than any other syntagm. A
hidden refrain, a sign of anaphora, but also an organizing icon, the
expression brings the essay back to its beginning at the very point
where its inscription moves the discourse ahead. The term connotes a
taste for adven-ture or travel, but especially within or about
surrounding motifs and vocables. It sallies forth as the very example
of the essay's verbal motion:
Il n'en est Vavanture aucune plus expresse... (945)
...vous prestez maintenir l'apparence de cet ordre qu'on voit en
vostre famille, et qu' Vavanture l'achetez vous trop cher (949)
...ay peu quelqu'un par adventure (954)
les ayant Vavanture conceus cent fois, j'ay peur de les avoir desj
enrolles (962)
[l'obligation] se paye Vadventure quelquefois, mais elle ne se dissout
jamais (969)
c'est mon humeur, et Vavanture non sans quelque excez, j'estime
tous les hommes mes compatriotes... (973)
Le coeur vous serre de piti... Vavanture d'ouyr d'autres plaintes
(978)
... Vavanture souhaiter... (981)
ils festoyent cette avanture... (985)
la vie publique, qui est Vavanture autant selon mon complexion...
(988)
Voire Vaventure... (992)
Et l'advanture y a il plus de recommendation d'obeyr aux mauvais
qu'aux bons (994)
Joint qu' Vadventure ay-je quelque obligation particuliere ne dire
qu' demy... (995-96)

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Tom Conley
l'avanture d'autant moins... (998)

Along with l'avanture, the title recurs in the text as a function of

what might be called the rhetoric of graphic flashback.17 Once lost in
the dedalus of writing, the title, set aside or momentarily forgotten
in the stuffing of the essay, suddenly, like the repressed, returns.
"Vanit" falls late in the chapter, near the bot-tom, as if to extend the
textual field as far as possible between the initial inscription at the
head and its return in the lower body. Montaigne puts the title into
the mouth of the hypothetical reader after he had located the theme
in his own intestines: "Il y a de la vanit, dictes vous, en cet
amusement. Mais o non? Et ces beaux preceptes sont vanit, et
vanit toute la sagesse" (988). At this point interior duplication of
the title anticipates the paradoxical quotation from Delphes at the
end of the chapter. The words of the non-oracular oracle ends the
text on a tone of paradoxical sententiousnessbut also with a
cohesive irony that recalls the terms establishing oscillation and
dissolution of sig-nifiers over the surface of the chapter. The title
extends the bodily map of the text by calling attention to the speech
uttered at the bottom in light of the writing excreted at its top.
"Vanit" connects the figure of the textual map to that of the
essayist's digestive tract.
Vanit buckles the beginning and the end of the text by signalling an inversion of the upper and lower orders of the essay. By
contrast, l'aventure generates a second vector of associations within
the overall meander. The formula refers, on the one hand, to
doubt or casual hesitation; each of its fourteen occur-rences in the
chapter opens a space, momentarily arresting pas-sage of meaning,
that fans out and attaches to other signifiers. A Vavanture stops the
text where it would appear to set it in motion. We can recall that the
apposition has a function akin to meaning-less terms that mollify the
temerity of performative language. Their pause inserts a salubrious
distance between expression and meaning. In "Des boiteux"
statements of judgment need pause or

17
See Jacques Derrida, "Le titrier," in Parages (Paris: Galile, 1985). The text
hypothesizes that a title, even unnamed, is inevitably attached to a text and will recur
or return, often "like" the repressed, within it. The title tends to frame a piece of writing.
It also initiates contractual obligations that function in ways that follow the model of
what elsewhere he calls the law of the signature.

Montaigne en Montage: Mapping "Vanit" (III, ix)

221

time to attenuate the violence of their clarity. "J'ayme ces mots,

qui amollissent et moderent la temerit de nos propositions: A
l'avanture, Aucunement, Quelque, On dict, Je pense, et semblables"
(1030). So, too, in III, ix, except that the spatial gap is more pronounced in the context of displacement and travel. Further,
l'avanture figures in a matrix of signifiers that engage perception
of movement, not only by dint of frequency of printed reiteration, but also by the essayist's projection of a simultaneously light
and dense treatment of the formula's meaning. Montaigne's
taste for travel would thus be one for chance, for fortune, or for a
poetics of seriality that goes "en avant vau l'eau" (1000), pulling
the theme of voyage from names and places in history and
geography to the texture of writing. A Vavanture can thus be a
simple stop, a glottal pause, that makes the discourse go, but also
a cue to figures of venture and vagrancy symptomatic of massive
transvaluation of the economy of movement and trade in early
modern culture. In this light Montaigne's avanture not only
designates the presence of destiny, chance, Fortune, or the
unconscious, but also a shift that moves from adventure, with
strictly military and theological inflection, to that of
entrepreneurial risk. His adventures are calculated; their
heterology, or science of alterity (de Certeau, 1986: 67-68),
equates touristic travel as metaphysical travail. The novelty of
voyage is depicted in an ambiance that prefers venture on paper
to that of life lived bereft of writing. The text speculates on gains
to be had for the self from its investment in the vanity of
autobiography.18 Adventure is located in the unknown areas, on
the one hand, opened between recollections of lived and bookish
experience and, on the other, it inheres in the errancy and vagary
of writing. Accidental and haphazard effects appear to fissure
the chronicle of travel, government, home and country, civil war,
and reflections on the essay's composition that purport to be

18
Michael Nerlich (1987, 3-6; 384) shows that between the twelfth and
eighteenth centuries military virtues of courage and resolution evolve in the direc-tion of
productive industry and labor. A growing middle class produces adventure that the
noblesse d'pe had reserved for ritual conflict. Thus the honnte homme (a term used
twice in III, ix) undertakes financial risk by making of enterprise a narrative about
adventure. Montaigne's l'avanture would appear to be at the crux of the shift that
Nerlich described in his structural history of modern con-sciousness.

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Tom Conley

made by chance and according to inspiration that goes

l'avanture.19
In its montage of letters "Vanit" affords a play of chance that
takes place between the page and in the reader's view of the author's
representation of the experience of travel. In the first sentences the
author lauds an enterprise that will advance sans travail. Clearly
travail is marked by signs common to vanit and avant, but it also
seems to conflate an evolution of the meaning of travel that runs
against the grain of the limited meaning (of torture, from tripalium
or trepalium, "machine o Ton assujettit les bufs, les chevaux
difficiles, etc., pour les ferrer," according to Bloch-Von Wartburg).
Montaigne can travel without submit-ting to the travail of travel. The
word itself travels across its his-tory when glimpsed in the webbing
of signifiers. Adventure is crafted emblematically. Because its
printed characters mark an illusion of depth mapped onto the time
and space of reading, the essay becomes a world-picture as soon as it
acquires length and confusion enough to extend the reader's attention
into memory. Travel will leave an effect of displacement within a
text that becomes increasingly oblivious of time.
En telle occupation, qui on ne veut donner une seule heure on ne veut
rien donner. Et ne faict on rien pour celuy pour qui on ne faict qu'autre
chose faisant. Joint qu' l'adventure ay-je quelque obligation particuliere
ne dire qu' demy, dire confusment, dire dis-cordamment (995-96).

The essayist needs an extensive base in order to forge an image of

space that his discourse at once extends and spans. In order to
concatenatethus to mark ruptures and linkages that produce the
routine or rupture of adventure in times past and present-
typographical signifiers are deployed to recur and recombine
differently. They begin with the graphemes marking vanit,
avant, and avanture and soon nestle into and between words of
different semantic values. A nascent grid seems to emerge; its
coordinates can vary according to different readings or types of
emphasis:

19
Imbrie Buffum, Studies in the Baroque from Montaigne to Rotrou (New
Haven: Yale UP, 1957), treats of the fugal order of the principal themes. He does not
really link them to the process of writing.

Montaigne en Montage: Mapping "Vanit" (III, ix)

223

Two or three graphemes seem to take supple control of the essay

and, further, to draw lines of multiple trajectories, in the author's
words, that can be traced in the design of the inlaid strips of a
marqueterie mal jointe. Were the points of juncture marked as
minimal sets of graphemes that generate associations in the field
of difference and repetition, the basic linking term would be seen
as the
a

v a

of the title. A "subtilit ambitieuse," the three letters form a

palinym that binds a verbal design to a pictural effect of mirroring. In one-point perspective, the letters offer an illusion of
paginal depth.20 The converging parallel strokes of the V or its
companion, A, converge at a point of infinity either before or
beyond the page:

20

Since Tory, the Roman letter is invested with perspective. The Champ flewy
"grids" each character of the alphabet; it equates the proportions of each letter
according to human form; it arrives at a perspectival view of the I in relation with its
complement, the O (f. xvi verso).

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The arrow-like shape is aimed at the reader while its points to an

area beyond, through, or below the page. Seen in respect to twopoint perspective suggested by its identity as palinym in the
typographical line that develops as it moves from left to right or
vice-versa (in accord with time moving to and from past and pre-

sent, the past connoted to the left and future to the right), the
symmetry extends further:
In this way the extensive presence of the figure of the first two
digits of vanit exploits alliteration to signal how a pervasive
network of symbolic correspondences works across the text in
simultaneity.21 Even though they are mapped over the temporal
extension of the chapter, the letters underscore how difference is
being erased in the montage of things and places that memory
and cognition, conscious and unconscious processes alike, are

21
Claude-Gilbert Dubois [1990, 136-38] explores the constructive virtue of the
printed letter. His work complements what, in Les mtamorphoses de Montaigne
(Paris: PUF, 1988), Franois Rigolot remarks from the standpoint of voice: "Autour du
mot Vanit' se cre d'abord un vaste schme allitratif en 'V', prlude incantatoire la
perception du vide" (141), summed up in the citation extended from the
inscription at Delphes (1000-01).

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225

setting on the typographical horizon of a perpetual or absolute

present.22
The dominant Vavanture is therefore matched by the no
less frequently used appositive, cette heure, that pulls things old,
avant, into the here-and-now of the parade of figures moving
before our eyes:
ils sont allez jusques cette heure en prosperant outre mes contes...
(951)
L'un de mes souhaits pour cette heure, ce seroit de trouver un gendre...
(953)
Il faudra doresnavant, car Dieu mercy jusques cette heure il n'en est
pas advenu... (962)
Moy cette heure et moy tantost sommes bien deux... (964)
...les invasions...autour de moy ont jusques cette heure plus exasper
que amolly l'humeur du pays... (966)
...je ne vois personne plus libre et moins endebt que je suis jusques
cette heure (968)
Selon la variation continuelle qui a suivy le nostre jusques cette
heure, qui peut esperer que... (982)
Nous disons qu'il [mon livre] est cette heure parfait (982)
...je ne m'y attache point, moins asteure que la vieillesse me particularise
et sequestre... (986)
Les annales reprochent jusques cette heure... (991)
Les enfans sont du nombre des choses qui n'ont pas fort dequoy estre
desires, notamment cette heure... (998)

The formula divides and unifies the text as much as the recurring
letter v, and with an effect that cuts a wedge between the discourse and its figurai aspect. The endless present constitutes the
essay's fugacious play of duration. Global time is summarized in
an instant, caught in retinal suspension, and thus remains both
eternal and ever-renewed. A sensation is gained of a collapsing
volume of history that moves to and from the ancients and the
moderns. An undifferentiated surface of events becomes that of
the essay itself. A mappamundi or two-dimensional picture of an
essay-as-world is discerned through the global and anamorphic
perspectives of letters.
The project is cinematographic and hieroglyphic. Readers
would not be wrong to remark that Montaigne's confusion of all

22
In Topophilia, Yi-Fu Tuan [1990: 129-32] argues that the cartographical
revolution of the sixteenth century changes the world from a cosmic or volumetric
to a two-dimensional entity. Here the transformation is manifest in the play of
the letter of "De la vanit."

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Tom Conley

periods of time " cette heure" or "asteure" is comparable to the

movement of "the cradle of time" that Lillian Gish rocks to and
from in the punctuations between the Babylonia, the Bible, Saint
Bartholomew's massacre, and the present in Intolerance.23 An
"intertitle" in the text, a formula that recurs almost as obsessively
as l'avanture, cette heure pulls the reader away from the
imaginary depth of penetration into time and back onto a flat
expanse of historical oblivion.24 A cette heure denies the deptheffect of vanishment, as does the recurring graph of the letter v
or the scatter of place-names (Rome, Sicily, Persia) that seem
utterly different from the intimate presence of Paris that he loves
"jusques ses verrues et ses taches" (972), or Gascony with its
nagging presence, as in Proust, of "quelque vieux pan de mur"
(951). In turn, the relation of Vavanture to cette heure also
underwrites a sameness of human activities in time and space
that the frame of "vanit" cannot contain.
Flattening of perspective is promoted by the asides touching
on the material poetics of the essay. The remarks do not fill out
the self-portrait or enhance its fidelity of self-reflection so much
as they draw the reader's eyes to the visual effects of composition. Three centers focus on the literal character of the chapter.
The first bestows paradoxical encomium upon the writing as
excrement (945-46). The second (962-65) describes the author's

23
In a rich study of time in cinema, Maureen Turim notes that in Griffith's film
the flashback 'reverberates both backwards and forwards across the narrative," in
Flashback in Film: Memory and History (New York: Routledge, 1989), 43-44. Miriam
Hansen shows how the director obtains a hieroglyph in the overlay of inscriptions and
intertitles in the Babylonian sequence in her Babel and Babylon: Spectatorship in
American Silent Film (Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1991), ch. 7. In a similar vein, Jean
Starobinski notes that when he seeks truth in 'Vanit" Montaigne inserts a matte
distance from himself and his own time. "Le dsir d'indpendance devient l'nergie
prdominante, sans pour autant que s'interrompent l'coute du pass et la lecture des
textes exemplaires," in Montaigne en mouvement (Paris: Gallimard, 1982), 17. The
distance, we can infer, is marked in the collapse between what is heard ("l'coute du
pass") and what is immediately seen ("la lecture des textes exemplaires").
24
Montage becomes the very process of history. According to Marc-Eli
Blanchard (1990, 117), the moy of the text projects itself into an illusion of history. "Au
mieux, il espre rester spectateur dans le thtre mental qu'il s'est constitu. Il
commence par isoler un pisode d'un rcit qu'il a trouv quelque part. Par l, il
interrompt, gle une squence historique, et se donne le luxe de traiter le pass
comme s'il s'agissait en vrit du prsent" (Blanchard's stress).

Montaigne en Montage: Mapping "Vanit" (III, ix)

227

repetition-compulsion ("Or je n'apporte icy rien de nouvel

apprentissage. Ce sont imaginations communes: les ayant
l'avanture conceus cent fois, j'ay peur de les avoir desj
enrolles" [962]) before it offers the figure of the marqueterie mal
jointe. The enigmatic metaphor precedes discussion of the "old"
orthography and punctuation of the Essais, and of the compositors' errorsa toposthat leave effects (resembling effais if we
recall resemblance of the medial s to the/ ) that betray well the
writer's most calculated intentions. The third, the famous aside
of the jagged edges of the style, seen from a veu oblique (994),
draws our attention to the graphic configuration of the text: "mes
fantasies se suivent...le devant l'amour...ces muances...une merveilleuse grace se laisser ainsi rouler au vent, ou le sembler.
Les noms de mes chapitres n'en embrassent pas tousjours la
matiere; souvent il la denotent seulement par quelque marque..."(994). In the montage the mark in question is not elsewhere, in other essays, as commentators have been eager to note;
the marque remains directly before the eyes, in the concatenation
of letters that reiterate the combinations of the title and its rebus.
Here and elsewhere the self-reflexive character of the writing
mirrors the writer only as an autonomous, almost selfless
presence that has been embodied and set in motion by means of
the self-divided text.
The three moments of reflection on the art of vanity appear
to underscore the utter materiality of the text. They also constitute an element of the textual geography that complements the
careful insertion of toponyms. New tensions are established in
the relation that effects of movement hold with the immobility of
place-names anchoring the discourse. Their illusion of site produces effects of passage. Site and discourse are displaced into
each other, toponyms tracing movements of history, and the writing congealing into visual marks that are, in turn, set in motion by
the surrounding toponyms.... Recurring names produce an aura
of extensive time and space in which the author circulates. The
point of departure is of course the home, "Montaigne," the place
the author's father loved to build (991), that now approaches
decrepitude homologous to the essayist's body. Household
chores are irksome because they interfere with the pleasure of
travel (972). But when he flees Gascons in Sicily "(j'en ay assez

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Tom Conley

laiss au logis); je cerche des Grecs plustost, et des Persans"

(986), the author is not seeking a world beyond the realm of his
experience.25 The names map out a European surface that
arches back to the French court and its politics in the eastward
motion evoked in their citation in respect to his domicile. In
France, Greeks are proverbially aligned with egregious courtiers
(Cotgrave: "Il est Grec. He is a most craftie, or subtll Courtier"),
and with tusks that pierce ("Grecs: m. A wild boar's upper
tuskes"), while Persans are strange figures that literally are "piercing" the Christian world from its extremity. The pair of names
not only defines a limit; their attributes puncture the textual
globe that the wind of vanity is inflating.
If the relation of figure and referent in Grec and Persan signals how a volume is distended in order to be exploded, then the
rapport of Rome to Paris, following the inspired remarks on the
duplicitous writing of the essay (994), cannot fail to pierce the
textual surface in the same way. The great figures that
Montaigne associates with ancient Rome and the ruins he had
recently visited stand no more distant in time, over sixteen
centuries, than the absence of the author's father framed in the
memory of eighteen years. The absolute nature of things passed
before, avant, now gains presence in the here and now, asteure,
equal to those persisting in the retinal aspect of memory within a
single lifetime. Can we not also discern in the great vision a collage that articulates a space both synthesizing and atomizing
itself in the drift of the discourse?
J'ay veu ailleurs des maisons ruynes, et des statues, et du ciel, et de la
terre: ce sont tousjours des hommes, Tout cela est vray; et si pourtant ne
sauroy revoir si souvent le tombeau de cette ville, si grande et si
puissante, que je ne l'admire et revere. Le soing des morts nous est en
recommandation. Or j'ay est nourry ds mon enfance avec ceux icy; j'ay
eu connoissance des affaires de Romme, long temps avant que je l'aye eue
de ceux de ma maison: je savois le Capitole et son plant avant que je
sceusse le Louvre, et le Tibre avant la Seine. J'ay eu plus

25
In the Thibaudet/Rat edition of the uvres compltes (Paris: Gallimard
1962), noting these two names, the editors wonder if the author might have desired
venturing further to the East. "Montaigne et-il dsir aller plus loin que Munich et
que Rome? Ces mots peuvent le faire croire" (1653). Further, when he leaves the
Gascons behind, Montaigne associates logis with the stasis of logic of life at home
that contrasts the flow of bodily movement: "Je m'aimerois mieux bon escuyer que bon
logitien" (552).

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229

en teste les conditons et fortunes de Lucullus, Metellus et Scipion, que

je n'ay d'aucuns hommes des nostres. Il sont trespassez. Si est bien
mon pere, aussi entierement qu'eux, et s'est esloign de moy et de la
vie autant en dixhuict ans que ceux-l ont faict en seize cens. (996)

The plant or map of Rome was imprinted in the author's mental

geography long before he experienced its real space. In the text
le Louvre figures in collage and montage with le Capitole, effectively opening or expanding volume (L...ouvre), while the Seine
becomes a hypdrographic line drawn through a city, a division
that invokes a totalizing, almost psychoanalytically charged
remembrance or scne. All the anal and numismatic associations
of spending and hoarding congeal, of course, in the names of
Lucullus and Mettellus, while Scipion anticipates the "spes" or
espce of currency that will soon materialize in the bulle authentique de bourgeoisie romaine (999).26 Once again, visions of
geographical history depend on the cohesion and the scatter of a
debrislettersthat accumulate and disaggregate in the reader's
field of vision.
Here the rapport of site and movement can help to explain
why the essay smacks of coprophilia.27 The double movement
arching backwards and forwards, that winds and unwinds, that
oscillates between mouth and anus, also maps a montage of writing that leaves palpable traces in the path of the writer. The stercoraceous metaphor Montaigne uses to typify his writing is cast
in the aura of civilit ("ce sont icy..un plus plus civilement, des
excremns d'un vieil esprit" [946]). It seems to be fluid matter
congealed into a typographical style that alludes to the cursive
traits of the lettre civile.28 Things excessive and rare are held in a
printed form just as times past and present are melded in the

26
Also: "in me omnis spes est mihi" (968); "ces exemples sont de la
premiere espece pour moy" (973); les Perses (974); "outre ce profit que je tire
d'escrire de moy, j'en espere cet autre... (981); "je veux...et espere meshuy qu'il ne
desmentira le pass" (983); "ils sont trespassez. Si est bien mon pere" (996).
27
We follow (and, it is hoped, extend) Gisle Mathieu-Castellani's analysis
in chapter 4 of Montaigne: rcriture de l'essai (Paris: PUF, 1988), 198-220, in
which "Vexcrementum est la fois crible et accroissement: un signe dchiffrer,
un indice supplmentaire, objet d'une tude smiologique" (202).
28
"Quand Montaigne traitera ses essais 'd'excremens...,' il imprimera un ton
volontairement grotesque la mtaphore traditionelle," notes Michel Jeanneret,
Des mets et des mots (Paris: Corti, 1987), 129 (stress added).

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graphic character of "De la vanit" Excrement generally resists

ideation if it cannot be fossilized or metamorphosed. The transformation of the essayist's vain thoughts (excre-mens), a mass of
useless matter, "hard sometimes, sometimes soft" into a lasting or
productive form takes place only by way of a poetic economy
enabled by movement of montage. When the essayist frays a
passage on a road or a routine, forging ahead, "sans cesse et sans
travail, j'iray autant qu'il y aura d'ancre et de papier au monde"
(945), he draws attention to the letters that flicker through the
median, imaginary figure of "la vanit" The same holds for the
gentleman, counting his life by the operations of the belly (ventre)
for whom, the contents of his chamberpots excepted, everything
stunk. "Vanity" of self-study suggests that a graphic network sets
the stage for the fall of the remarkable coda of these "faveurs
venteuses," "vaines," reflective of his "curiosit," a "bulle authentique de bourgeoisie romaine" (999). A textual picture is suddenly
dropped into the text.29 At the corporal bottom of the essay, the
bulle, written in curial style, happens to be a piece of bric-a-brac,
a touristic memento, like a bronze figure of the Eiffel Tower or
the Empire State Building, that sits amidst a clutter of reflections. Undigested, it seems to be the final thematic evidence of
the waste and vanity Montaigne praises at the beginning. In the
art of montage, the text displays an officious Latin punctuated by
a series of recurring graphs that duplicate the shape of the essay
as a whole.
"S.P.Q.R." or its variant recurs seven times in the Latin
quotation and seems to sally forth as more "ambitious subtleties"
uselessly amassed in the citation. Is this stenography "for the
Senate and Roman People" another "curious" ideogram or
"hieroglyph" adjoined to the illustrissimus Michael Montanus, "the
Knight of the Order of Saint Michael and Ordinary Gentleman
of the Chamber of the Christian King?" In the adventure of writing, the text transliterates S.P.Q.R. into a rebus de Picardie that
corresponds to the title at the head of the essay, contained in the

29

In "Vanity's Bull: Montaigne's Itineraries in III,ix," Mary McKinley shows how

the bulbous shape of the bulle reproduces the inflated balloon of vanity that the writing
punctures so ironically, in Marcel Tetel and G. M. Masters, eds., Le parcours des
"Essais" (Paris: Aux Amateurs de Livres), 196-98. The iconography and history of the
form is presented in rich and deep perspective.

Montaigne en Montage: Mapping "Vanit" (III, ix)

231

implied question, "Est-ce pet, cul, air?" That is, is the essay
valorized by the flatulent density of its own form, its worthless
money ("est-ce pecu...?"), or does its self-inflation concern its selfmirroring ("est-ce spculaire")? Whatever the answers to the
questions that arise from the collage of French and Latin, the
apothegm shows that the Roman document is the literal farce of
the essay, a stuffing of figures, letters, and vocables that reflect
and disappear into each other throughout the symbolic process of
writing.
The figure of things soft and hard, of flowing and fossilized,
engages the poetics that comprise "De la vanit" It cannot be
concluded that the writer suddenly "discovers" a new relation of
movement and writing in this essay, nor that the theme of travel
merely allows the art to be made manifest in the passage of
printed characters. Nor can the implied principles of montage be
explained by rhetorical analysis. The text submits oral traditions
to the plastic, material activity of writing. In "Vanit" a new
poetics appears. It gains definition by virtue of the themes of
travel, of difference, of times and places past and present, and of
mutation and ruin that are consonant with the labors of writing.
But these are not essential to the essay. Its art of montage is
born of the visibility and passage of printed forms. Letters are
composed and orchestrated in diverse and complex spatial configurations that ultimately evolve toward an autobiographical
geo-graphy. The world that the essay maps becomes the object
and effect of a writing body scattered in and about the traces of
verbal trajectories. Emblematic letters locate intersections of the
coordinates of the writer's projected self-portrait. The movement of "De la vanit" begs comparison of the essay to mappamundi on which the writer and reader travel all over and about
its surface.
University of Minnesota

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Works Cited

Aumont, Jacques. Montage Eisenstein. Tr. L. Hildreth, C. Penley, and A. Ross. Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
1988.
Blanchard, Marc E. Trois portraits de Montaigne: essai sur la
reprsentation la Renaissance. Paris: Nizet, 1990.
Blanchot, Maurice. L'entretien infini. Paris: Gallimard, 1969.
Brunette, Peter and David Wills. Screen/Play: Derrida and Film
Theory. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989.
Brunot, Ferdinand. Histoire de la langue franaise, v. 2. Paris:
Colin reprint, 1967.
Buffum, Imbrie. Studies in the Baroque from Montaigne to
Rotrou. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1957.
Card, Jean and Jean-Claude Margolin. Rbus de la Renaissance:
des images qui parlent. 2 v. Paris: Maisonneuve et Larose,
1986.
Certeau, Michel de. L'criture de l'histoire. Paris: Gallimard,
1982.
____________. Heterologies: Discourse on the Other. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1986.
Citton, Yves and Andr Wyss. Les doctrines orthographiques du
XVIe sicle en France. Geneva: Droz, 1989.
Conley, Tom. Film Hieroglyphs. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1991.
_________ . "Pictogramme et critique littraire," Topique: revue
freudienne 46 (1991), 269-79.
Cotgrave, Randle. A Dictionarie of the French and English
Tongues. London, 1611.
Cottrell, Robert D. Sexuality/Textuality: A Study of the Fabric of
Montaigne's Essais. Columbus: Ohio State University Press,
1981.
Derrida, Jacques. L'criture et la diffrence. Paris: Seuil, 1967.
_________
. Parage. Paris: Galile, 1985.
Dubois, Claude-Gilbert. "Taxinomie et Potique: compositions
srielles et constructions d'ensembles dans la cration

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233

esthtique en France au seizime sicle," in Lawrence D.

Kritzman, ed., Le signe et le texte: tudes sur l'criture au XVIe
sicle en France. Lexington: French Forum, 1990. 131-45.
Eisenstein, Elizabeth. The Printing Press as an Agent of Change.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979.
Eisenstein, Sergei. The Film Form and The Film Sense. New
York: Meridion, 1959.
Glauser, Alfred. Montaigne paradoxal. Paris: Nizet, 1972.
Hansen, Miriam. Babel and Babylon: Spectatorship in the
American Silent Film. Cambridge: Harvard University Press,
1991.
Jacob, Franois. La logique du vivant. Paris: Gallimard, 1971.
Jeanneret, Michel. Des mets et des mots. Paris: Corti, 1987.
Kinser, Samuel. Rabelais's Carnival. Berkeley: University of
California Press, 1990.
Mathieu-Castellani, Gisle. Le corps de Jzabel. Paris: Presses
Universitaires de France, 1991.
______________________ . Montaigne: l'criture de l'essai.
Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1988.
McKinley, Mary. "Vanity's Bull: Montaigne's Itineraries in III,
ix." In Marcel Tetel and G. M. Masters, eds. Le parcours des
Essais. Paris: Aux Amateurs du Livre, 1989, 196-208.
Montaigne, Michel de. Les Essais. 3 v. Ed. Pierre Villey/Verdun-L. Saulnier. Paris: Presses Universitaires de
France (Coll. Quadrige), 1988.
_________________ . uvres compltes. Ed. M. Rat and A.
Thibaudet. Paris: Gallimard-Pliade, 1962.
Nerlich, Michael. The Ideology of Adventure. 2 v. Tr. Ruth
Crowley. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987.
Panofsky, Erwin. Renaissance and Renascences in Western Art.
Stockholm: Almquist and Wiksell, 1960.
Riffaterre, Michael. The Semiotics of Poetry. Bloomington:
Indiana University Press, 1978.
Rigolot, Franois. "Cratylisme et pantagrulisme." tudes
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234

Tom Conley

Ropars-Wuilleumier, Marie-Claire. Le texte divis: essai sur

l'criture filmique. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France,
1981.
___________________________. craniques. Lille: Presses
Universitaires de Lille, 1990.
Starobinski, Jean. Montaigne en mouvement. Paris: Gallimard,
1982.
Tory, Geoffroy. Champ fleury (Paris, 1529). Ed. J. W. Jollife.
The Hague: Mouton/Johnson Reprints, 1970.
Tuan, Yi-Fu. Topophilia. New York: Columbia University Press,
1990 reprint.
Turim, Maureen. Flashback in Film: Memory and History. New
York: Routledge, 1989.

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

Olivier Pot
(A) Madame si l'estranget ne me sauve, et la nouvellet, qui ont
accoustum de donner pris aux choses, je ne sors jamais l'honneur de
cette sotte entreprise; mais elle est si fantastique et a un visage si esloign
de l'usage commun que cela luy pourra donner passage (385)1.

C'est pour le moins un paradoxe qui, si Ton en croit l'incipit

du chapitre "De l'affection des pres aux enfants", lgitime
l'entreprise des Essais: la respectabilit de l'uvre ("sortir
l'honneur") serait fonction de son anomalie ("si l'estranget ne
me sauve"), l'cart maximal par rapport la norme ("si fantastique et si esloign de l'usage commun") fondant une recevabilit
optimale ("pourra luy donner passage"). Le paradoxe n'est
pourtant qu'apparent dans la mesure o, pour le relativisme
montaignien, la "coutume" tient sa valeur moins des choses que
de la fantaisie des hommes ("l'estranget et la nouvellet ont
accoustum de donner pris aux choses"), et o la doxa en somme
relve du pragmatisme (notons la paronomase pris/entreprise).
L'axiologie tant justement le "passage la limite" du fantasme
(usage/passage), l'insolite qui se propose dans le contrat de fiction affich par l'"essai" a toutes les chances de s'imposer
puisqu'il pointe en mme temps l'origine fictionnelle de toute
axiologie. Dans l'imaginaire des valeurs, il n'y a de remarquable
que la marque elle-mme, et ne marque en dfinitive que ce qui
(se) dmarque:
C'est (C) le seul livre au monde de son espece, d'(A) un dessin
farouche et extravagant. Il n'y a rien aussi en cette besoingne digne
d'estre remerqu que cette bizarrerie: car un subject si vain et si vile le
meilleur ouvrier du monde n'eust seu donner faon qui merite qu'on en
face conte (385).

Tel est le statut phnomnologique de la singularit ("le seul livre

au monde") qu'elle s'rige d'elle-mme en catgorie ("de son
espce")2. Dans la perspective "gnalogique" qui est ici celle des
1

La pagination renvoie l'dition P. Villey-V.-L. Saulnier, la Guilde du

Livre, Lausanne, 1965.
2
L'"espce" dsigne, ds 1260, la fois "l'apparence sensible des choses" et
"la catgorie distincte", la cohrence smantique du mot relevant l'origine d'une
thologie du signe ("vraye espce" se dit, ds 1200, de la "rvlation de Dieu" dans
les "espces" eucharistiques du pain et du vin), Petit Robert, s.v. "espce". De
mme que la scolastique scotiste des franciscains dfinissait l'individu par sa
forme spcifique et par une dtermination individuelle positive qui le distingue des
autres (cf. Rabelais: "une forme spcificque et proprit individuale", Pliade, p.
327), Montaigne tend ainsi que nous le verrons, faire concider ces deux
instances -- gnrique et individuelle - dans la gnalogie: ainsi la virt (au sens

236

Olivier Pot

Essais, la gnralit se rduit au processus vnementieltoujours singulierqui l'engendre; chappant toute opration
extrinsque et artificielle qui serait de Tordre de la dispositio ("le
meilleur ouvrier du monde n'eust seu donner faon"), le "subject
si vain et vile" vaut initialement par son inventio ou historia3,
toute forme se lgitimant par le rcit de sa formation (la
synonymie compte/conte favorise chez Montaigne cette collusion
entre valeur et narration): "(B) Les autres forment l'homme, je
le rcite" (804); "(B) Je n'enseigne poinct, je raconte" (806)4.
Rcit de gense qui se veut en mme temps gense du rcit,
les Essais n'auraient ainsi d'autre signification que leur cart
mme, leur monstruosit dont la seule intention signifiante est de
(se) "montrer", de faire signe sur le moment hasardeux de la naissance5. C'est pourquoi cette singularit qui constitue la "raison"
d'tre de l'uvre, sa ratio intrinsque, cette dmarque susceptible de se marquer et d'tre remarque, l'incipit de l'Affection la
saisit immdiatement comme un effet idiosyncrasique:
l'avnement de l'criture autobiographique se "trouve" ou
s'origine dans son vnement biologique6, en l'occurrence le
mouvement d'humeur qui en inaugure l'histoire, la mlancolie.
(A) C'est une humeur melancolique, et une humeur par consequent tres
ennemie de ma complexion naturelle, produite par le chagrin de

de "virilit") est-elle la fois "singulire et exemplaire" (1110 C).

3
Aux deux sens du terme: story (rcit) et history (historia, c'est l'invention, ce
qui est donn ou trouv). "(C) Nous autres naturalistes [au contraire des "ar-tistes"]
estimons qu'il y aie grande et incomparable preference de l'honneur de l'invention"
(1056).
4
"(C) Et surpasse de ce cost l en religion superstitieuse toute foy historialle. Aux exemples que je tire de ceans, de ce que j'ay ou, faict ou dict, je me
suis defendu d'oser alterer jusques aux plus legeres et inutiles circonstances"
(106).
5
La monstruosit "signe" en effet la gense de l'essayiste: "(A) Quel
monstre est-ce, que cette goutte de semence dequoy nous sommes produits, porte
en soy les impressions, non de la forme corporelle seulement, mais des pensemens
et des inclinations de nos peres? Cette goutte d'eau, o loge elle ce nombre
infiny de formes?" (763). Et celle des Essais: "(A) crotesques et corps
monstrueux" (183).
6

Sur l'autobiographie comme inscription du bio-graphique dans le bio-logique,

cf. J. Derrida, The Ear of the Other. Otobiographie, Transparence, Trans-lation, 1988,
p. 6.

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

237

la solitude en laquelle il y a quelques annes que je m'estoy jette, qui m'a

mis premierement en teste cette resverie de me mesler d'escrire (385)7.

Ainsi rsum, l'historique des Essais comprend trois moments

successifs: une phase de sparation ("le chagrin de la solitude");
une phase de dpression fantasmatique conscutive cette
sparation et qui "trange" le sujet de son tat normal ("une
humeur melancolique tres ennemie de ma complexion
naturelle"); enfin une phase de restauration qui vient remplacer
le retrait et en remplir le manque par une autre opration non
moins fantasmatique, celle de l'criture ("m'a mis premierement
en teste cette resverie de me mesler d'escrire")8. L'allusion discrte la mort de la Botie ("il y a quelques annes") qui constitue l'accident originel ayant donn naissance l'essai
("premierement") n'est pas sans intrt: faut-il rappeler que,
pour Freud, la gestion de la perte modlise travers le travail
russi du deuilla nature fictionnelle du symbolique? Car le
mouvement d'humeur qui, dans le deuil, dmarque et coupe le
sujet de lui-mme anticipe par homologie le statut de la fiction
qui reprend et dynamise cet cart humoral, la chute dans la
mlancolie ("en laquelle je m'estois jett") mobilisant l'aversion
naturelle du "sujet" qui la rpercute dans un "pro-jet" (un "dessin"). En exprimentant par le deuil cette vrit que la vacance
et la viduit le constituent en propre dans le ddoublement
imaginaire, le "moy" de l'essayiste "trouve" alors dans le mouvement tropologique des humeurs le trope de l'criture9, l'histoire
individuelle devenant par l-mme l'objet figurai de la narration.
"Mon thme se renverse en soy" (1069 B): inaugure par

La mlancolie montaignienne a t rcemment tudie par J. Starobinski,

Montaigne en mouvement, 1982, ch. I, 6 ("Le ddoublement, les monstres, la
mlancolie", pp. 33-41); M. A. Screech, Montaigne and Melancholy. The Wisdom of
the Essays, 1983; G. Nakam, "Montaigne, la mlancolie et la folie", in Etudes
montaignistes en hommage Pierre Michel, 1984, pp. 195-213.
8
Remarquons que le mouvement de la phrase montaignienne intervertit
rtrospectivement cet ordre historique de la gense de faon situer la mlan-colie
l'origine de tout le processus.
9
Cf. J. Pigeaud, "Une physiologie de l'inspiration potique. De l'humeur au
trope", in Les tudes classiques, XLVI, 1, 1978, pp. 23-31.

238

Olivier Pot

l'idiosyncrasie mlancolique, la retraite dessine le champ propre

du ritratto, du portrait10.
(A) Et puis, me trovant entierement despourveu et vuide de toute autre
matiere, je me suis present moy-mesmes moy, pour argument et pour
subject (385).

On comprend alors en quoi la "bizarrerie" signifie: dans la

mesure o la smiologie humorale se donne comme gense d'une
symboliqueles signes de la mlancolie valant alors non pour euxmmes, mais comme signes de signes dans l'criture (l'"encre de
la mlancolie"), la relativit de la marque dfinit structurellement toute relation, et l'altration le mode mme de l'altrit,
relation et altrit qu'exemplarise la spcificit gnalogique.
C'est pourquoi le "pourtrait au vif" n'obtient sa lgitimit qu'
mettre "signamment (s)a teste" le "traict d'importance" que
constitue l'amiti "montre ses enfants" par une mre:
(A) Or, Madame, ayant m'y pourtraire au vif, j'en eusse oubli un traict
d'importance, si je n'y eusse represent l'honneur que j'ay tous-jours rendu
vos merites. Et l'ay voulu dire signamment la teste de ce chapitre,
d'autant que, parmy vos autres bonnes qualitez, celle de l'amiti que vous
avez montre vos enfants tient l'un des premiers rengs (385-86).

Que le discours "mta-essayiste" de la gense intervienne prcisment en prologue d'un essai consacr "l'Affection des pres
pour leurs enfants" n'tonnera donc plus: l'image de la relation
gnalogique qui est remarquable en ce qu'elle transforme la
singularit gntique en lien symbolique, l'essai fera de la marque qui spare au plan de l'idiosyncrasie la "remarque" qui runit
dans le projet de l'criture. En-de et en-del de son nonciation (l'"in-fans" incapable de "remerquer" et l'adulte Montaigne
qui "n'aura plus ny bouche ny parole qui le puisse dire"), le texte
de VEssai acquiert un statut de "tesmoignage en toute vrit"
parce qu'il se veut un signe "gnreux", une valeur qui ne tient
son existence que de la libralit d'une mre:
(A) Mais d'autant qu' cause de son enfance il (votre fils) n'a peu
remerquer les extremes offices qu'il a reeu de vous en si grand nombre, je
veus, si ces escrits viennent un jour luy tomber en main, lorsque je
n'aurois plus ny bouche ny parole qui le puisse dire, qu'il reoive de moy
ce tesmoignage en toute verit... (386).

10
L. Marin, "Cest moi que je peins. De la figurabilit du moi chez
Montaigne", in Ariane, 1989, 7, p. 147.

L' Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

239

Si l'criture essayiste nat bien d'une sparation mlancolique,

c'est encore une fois parce qu'elle se spare aussi de toute
pathologie de la sparation pour riger la diffrence en
mtaphore gnrale de la "relation autruy". "Distinguo est le
plus universel membre de ma logique" (335 B): si "la ressemblance ne fait pas tant un comme la ressemblance faict autre"
(1042 B), il faut croire qu' rebours la "diffrence" comme forme
structurelle de la relation fait moins autre qu'elle ne rassemble11.
C'est ce que dmontre, un peu plus loin dans le mme chapitre,
le contre-exemple illustr par la misanthropie du Doyen de
Saint-Hilaire.
La prison mlancolique
En plaant la gense des Essais sous le signe d'"un exemple
d'affection maternelle (...) exprez en nostre temps", Montaigne
s'interrogeait en ralit pour son propre compte sur la meilleure
faon de tester et attester sa propre gnalogie, en l'espce:
vivre "en bonne intelligence" avec ses enfants. Bien sr, la
sparation lui parat tre la solution qui s'impose. Mais non sans
restriction.
(A) Non comme je vy, il y a quelques annes, un Doyen de S. Hilaire de
Poictiers rendu telle solitude par l'incommodit de sa melan-cholie, que,
lors que j'entray en sa chambre, il y avoit vingt et deux ans qu'il n'en estoit
sorty un seul pas; et si avoit toutes ses actions libres et ayses, sauf un
reume qui luy tomboit sur l'estomac. A peine une fois la sepmaine
vouloit-il permettre que aucun entrast pour le voir. Il se tenoit tousjours
enferm par le dedans de sa chambre, seul, sauf qu'un valet luy apportoit
une fois le jour manger, qui ne faisoit qu'entrer et sortir. Son occupation
estoit se promener et lire quelque livre (car il connoissoit aucunement les
lettres), obstin au demeurant de mourir en cette dmarche, comme il fit
bien tost aprs (392).

Le paralllisme entre la retraite du Doyen et la solitude montaignienne telle que la rapporte l'incipit du mme chapitre
s'impose, ne serait-ce que par leur contextualit (c'est d'ailleurs
la mme formule: "il y a quelques annes", qui date et la visite de
l'essayiste Saint-Hilaire et son choix personnel de la solitude).

11

"(C) Ingenieux meslange de nature. Si nos faces n'estoient semblables, on ne

sauroit discerner l'homme de la beste; si elles n'estoient dissemblables, on ne sauroit
discerner l'homme de l'homme" (1070).

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Olivier Pot

Est-ce dire que le mouvement d'humeur qui se situe l'origine de la

dcision d'crireet qui par l mme la disqualifierait en apparence
comme "sotte et fantastique entreprise", se laisse rduire la
misanthropie du Doyen12? Nullement, car passive ici (le Doyen
"est rendu" elle), cette solitude devient l volontaire
(Montaigne s'y "jette"); ici consquence d'une "incommodit de
la mlancolie", elle devient l la cause naturelle de la "mlancolie"; ici
interruption de toute communication, elle prpare l le dialogue avec
l'autre dans l'criture du "moy". Entre une incompatibilit avec la
vie sociale et un partage qui vise en dfinitive amnager une
conomie relationnelle plus gratifiante13, Montaigne ne pouvait pas
se tromper: avec cette intrusion dans la "chambre" du Doyen, c'est sa
propre image en creux et en ngatif, qui est renvoye en
avertissement l'essayiste. Hautement symbolique, le geste
"voyeuriste" rappelle la gense des Essais selon le rcit qu'en
donnait l'incipit: Montaigne partage bien avec son double le
fantasme de la rclu-sion mlancolique, mais s'il "entre en
mlancolie"14, ce sera non pour s'enfermer dans le solipsisme mais
pour mieux s'ouvrir l'Autre. Les deux projets destins organiser
une coexistence heureuse entre pre et fils visualisent ce
processus de dsin-carcration puisqu'ils encadrent la relation de la
visite au Doyen comme pour en exorciser la mauvaise mlancolie.
(A) Si je ne vivois parmi eux (comme je ne pourroy sans offencer leur
assemble par le chagrin de mon aage et la subjection de mes maladies,
et sans contraindre aussi les faons et rgles de vivre que j'auroys lors), je
voudroy au moins vivre prs d'eux en un quartier de ma maison, non pas
le plus en parade, mais le plus en commodit (...) J'essayemy, par une
douce conversation de nourrir en mes enfans une vive amiti et
bienveillance non feincte en mon endroict, ce qu'on gagne aisment en
une nature bien ne... (392).

La mlancolie n'invite la sparation que dans la mesure o elle

entrine la diffrence naturelle des gnrations ("offencer leur
12

Notons l'ironie possible que constituent, par antiphrase, la mlancolie du

Doyen et sa fonction Saint-Hilaire (hilarius?)
13

Comme l'a remarqu J. Starobinski propos de l'"anti-courtier trend" de

Montaigne, op. cit., p. 20, l'otium cum litteris permet de substituer des rapports
suspects imposs par la socit, d'autre plus fiables, plus amicaux et contractuels, plus
paternalistes.
14

Comme peut-tre le suggre la rfrence un Doyen de Saint-Hilaire, la

mlancolie de Montaigne se donne pour une lacisation de Vacidia monastique.

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

241

assemble par le chagrin de mon aage")15 ou des idiosyncrasies

("les faons et rgles de vivre que j'auroys lors"), sparation
gntique et tempramentale qui, une fois accepte et traduite
dans une conomie domestique (vivre non "parmi eux", mais
prs d'eux en un quartier de ma maison"), reconstruit le lien
gnalogique sous la forme d'une culture de la gnrosit ("une
vive amiti et bienveillance non feincte qu'on gagne aisment en
une nature bien ne"). Car l o la mlancolie pathologique fait
une consommation possessive et destructrice du monde qu'elle
vide de sa substance (en se "dvorant de chagrin", le Doyen se
fait "nourrir" passivement par son entourage) et tablit avec ce
monde un rapport de matre esclave (seule communication
avec l'extrieur, le valet ne fait qu'"entrer et sortir" de la chambre), la melancola generosa engendre au contraire partir de sa
viduit factuelle un espace virtuel de production: l'loignement
du monde et le dsengagement des relations de "commerce"16
tant, dans ce cas de figure privilgi, la preuve d'un dsintressement qui engage la gratuit des bienfaits, la solitude mlancolique "nourrist une vive amiti" chez les autres17. Si elle
sanctionne la perte comme une donne gntique, l'humeur
solitaire induit en mme temps la relation gnreuse qui supplera sa propre relativit, dduisant de son inertie une

15
La misanthropie du Doyen est au contraire purement accidentelle (donc
pathologique: l'"incommodit de sa mlancolie"), et non pas naturelle ("et si avoit
toutes ses actions libres et ayses, sauf un reume qui luy tomboit sur l'estomac"). Pour
le Problme 30, 1 d'Aristote, le "mlancolique gnial" est en effet naturelle-ment
mlancolique (dia physin), au contraire du "mlancolique pathologique" qui Test par
accident ou maladie.
16
Au sens ancien de "commerce du monde" dsignant les relations sociales
fondes sur une conomie changiste des bienfaits.
17
Selon la dfinition stocienne de Yamicitia que prolonge, dans le contexte
nobiliaire fond sur la libralit du don, le chapitre "de l'Amiti": "(C) En
gnral, toutes celles que la volupt ou le profit, le besoin publique ou priv forge
et nourrit, en sont d'autant moins belles et genereuses, et d'autant moins amitiez,
qu'elles meslent autre cause et but et fruit en l'amiti, qu'elle mesme" (184).
Dfinition qui, resitue dans le contexte humoral, prfigure l'loge kantien du
"mlancolique gnreux": "L'individu de disposition mlancolique assujettit sa
sensibilit des principes... Il se soucie peu de l'opinion des autres... c'est pourquoi il ne dpend que de son propre jugement... L'amiti est sublime, il y est
donc sensible", cit par Klibansky, Panofsky, Saxl, Saturne et la Mlancolie, trad.
fr. 1989, p. 197 (dsormais not SM).

Olivier Pot

242

potentialit qui sera d'ailleurs plus tard celle de l'criture

("j'essayerais"18). Pour avoir fait accepter la prcarit et la versatilit de l'tre au monde ("versari"), l'idiosyncrasie n'aura plus
pour objectif la "conservation" de l'tre (comme dans le cas du
Doyen), mais offrira en prime (de plaisir) l'alternative d'un "tre
avec", d'une "douce con-versation".
Tel est le paradoxe de la mlancolie montaignienne qu'une
"humeur" (mme et surtout) "contraire la complexion naturelle"
dpassionne les liens de la nature, faisant en sorte que "la propension naturelle march(e) quant et quant la raison". "Connatre"
est bien alors pour Montaigne un "co-natre", moment
exceptionnel o la "conception" se fait "concept", o la gnration
engendre "un mouvement en l'ame" et "une forme reconnoissable
au corps" par quoi le lien gntique "se puisse rendre aimable" en
tant que lien gnreux et symbolique. C'est ce qu'expose l'essai
"De l'Affection des pres aux enfants":
(A) Nous devons bien prester un peu la simple authorit de nature, mais
non pas nous laisser tyrannicquement emporter elle; la seule raison doit
avoir la conduite de nos inclinations. J'ay, de ma part, le goust
estrangement mousse ces propensions qui sont produites en nous sans
l'ordonnance et entremise de nostre jugement. Comme, sur ce subjet de
quoy je parle, je ne puis recevoir cette passion dequoy on embrasse les
enfans peine encore nez, n'ayant ny mouvement en Tame, ny forme
reconnoissable au corps, par o ils se puissent rendre aimables. (C) Et ne
les ay pas souffert volontiers nourris prs de moy19. (A) Une vraye
affection et bien resgle devroit naistre et s'augmenter avec la
connoissance qu'ils nous donnent d'eux; et lors, s'ils le valent, la
propension naturelle marchant quant et la raison, les cherir d'une amiti
vrayement paternelle; et en juger de mesme, s'ils sont autres, nous rendant
tousjours la raison, nonobstant la force naturelle (387).

Pourtant Montaigne le sait bien: en sanctionnant l'altrit

comme une ncessit de toute communication, la versatilit
mlancolique est toujours susceptible de tourner l'alination
plutt qu' l'altruisme pour peu que la complicit objective que
l'humeur tablit avec le manque congnital rgresse vers une
complicit subjective. Si le pdagogue-essayiste de L'institution

18

L'emploi de ce verbe indique que le processus voqu ici n'est pas tranger
la conception mme des Essais.
19

Dans l'adjonction tardive la tournure passive ("nourris") contraste avec la formule

active employe plus haut: "nourrir en eux une vive amiti".

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

243

des enfants a encore beau jeu de dnoncer, en 1580, les mfaits

de la mlancolie quand cette dernire mane d'un pouvoir
arbitraire et tyrannique lui-mme dj alin (c'est en effet alors
le systme carcral qui "corrompt l'esprit" de l'enfant, accident
auquel une dprogrammation rflchie remdiera facilement):
(A) Pour tout cecy, je ne veux pas qu'on emprisonne ce garon. Je ne veux
pas qu'on l'abandonne l'humeur melancholique d'un furieux maistre
d'escole. Je ne veux pas corrompre son esprit le tenir la gehene et au
travail la mode des autres, quatorze ou quinze heures par jour, comme
un portefaiz (164),

en revanche, le problme se complique singulirement lorsque

l'incarcration rencontre dans l'idiosyncrasie une complicit
latente: dans la pire hypothse, la mlancolie concourt la "servitude volontaire" pour reprendre aussi bien le titre que la thse
de l'opuscule de La Botie. C'est cette perversion plus subtile
que l'"allongeail" de 1588 tente de prvenir:
(C) Ny ne trouveroys bon, quand par quelque complexion solitaire et
melancholique on le verroit adonn d'une application trop indiscrette
l'tude des livres, qu'on la luy nourrist: cela les rend ineptes la
conversation civile, et les destourne de meilleures occupations (164).

Cette fois, au lieu de "nourrir une vive amiti", la solitude mlancolique "se nourrit" elle-mme fond perdu, s'"appliquant trop
indiscrettement" son propre vide imaginaire pour russir le
"tourner" une "meilleure occupation" et "conversation civile". Si
la sparation n'a plus pour effet que de tirer la faille imaginaire
du ct du narcissisme, le sujet mlancolique est condamn se
perdre dans sa gnitalit ("quelque complexion solitaire et
melancholique" qui prexiste dj chez l'enfant), l'avidit
dvorante des livres ne parvenant jamais remplir ce vide d'tre
de l'idiosyncrasie par dfinition sans limite (on sait ce qu'il en est
de l'exhaustivit de la "tte bien pleine"). Car on l'a dit, la
donne gntique ne peut produire que si elle est gnrique,
autrement dit que si elle reconnat une sparation dans la
gnration (ou ce qui revient au mme: entre les gnrations):
c'est pourquoi la bonne mlancolie est celle qui accepte de se
couper de ses excroissances et superfluits dont l'expansion
indfinie et infinie dtruit toute communication avec les autres.
A la thsaurisation et la rtention dont la tradition crdite le
mlancolique obstinment attach ses dchets (ses humeurs) se
substituera alors le dsir de se singulariser pour autrui dans le

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contrle du corps conu comme signe de l'change social. Voici la

fin de l'adjonction de 1588:
(C) Et combien ay-je veu de mon temps d'hommes abesti par
temeraire avidit de science? Carneades s'en trouva si affoll, qu'il n'eust
plus le loisir de se faire le poil et les ongles (164).

"Se faire le poil et les ongles": les superfluits "gntiques"

seraient-elles les "perittoma" que le Problme 30, 1 d'Aristote
attribue au mlancolique en gnral mais dont en particulier le
mlancolique "gnial" doit faire l'conomie pour les investir dans la
marque d'une supriorit sociale"perissos"20, comme le fait
Montaigne lui-mme qui expose "un peu plus civilement, les
excremens d'un vieil esprit, dur tantost, tantost lache et tousjours
indigeste" (946 B)? Car du moins l'exceptionnalit gniale que
l'essayiste rclame pour ses excroissances fantaisistes a-t-elle
l'avantage de s'autoriser d'une lgitimit gnalogique: et cela, non
seulement parce que la "semence" de l'homme est, selon Aristote,
"un excrement tir de l'aliment du sang" (557 A), mais parce que la
pierre hrditaire, signe certain de l'ascendance noble de l'crivain,
n'est elle-mme rien d'autre qu'une scrtion organique, comme se
plat le rappeler Montaigne chaque fois qu'il nomme sa colique.
"Excrements et lye, qui servira de matiere bastir la pierre en la
vessie" (775 A); "excrements qui fournis-sent de matiere la grave"
(1093 B); "C'est quelque grosse pierre (...), excrement hormais superflu
et empeschant" (1095 C). Aussi l'essayiste n'est-il pas prt se
purger de cette pierre par "un grand vuidange d'excremens sans
besoin aucun precedent et sans aucune utilit suivante" (767 B)21,
d'abord parce que cette excroissancecomme la mlancolie dans
le Problme 30, 1est ncessaire au bon quilibre tempramental
("Et ne say si nostre nature n'a pas besoin de la residence de ses
excremens jusques certaine mesure, comme le vin a de sa lie pour
sa conservation")

20
Cf. Aristote, L'homme de gnie et la mlancolie, traduction, prsentation et
notes de J, Pigeaud, 1988, p. 20 (qui cite A. Thivet, "La doctrine des perissmata
et ses parallles hippocratiques", in Revue de Philologie, 39, 1965, pp. 266-282).
21
Cette rtention de la pierre n'est pas sans rappeler l'attention de
l'hypocondriaque pour ses propres dchets. Mais la pierre hrditaire permet ici de
dpasser cet gocentrisme dans une gnralit gnalogique.

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245

(767 B)22, ensuite et surtout parce que la lithiase"bloc chu de

quelque dsastre obscur"a accompagn et marqu ( peine symboliquement: la faon d'une pierre commmorative) la naissance et les progrs de l'criture23:
(A) Je me suis envielly de sept ou huict ans depuis que je commenay (les
Essais): ce n'a pas est sans quelque nouvel acquest. J'y ay prati-qu la
colique par la libralit des ans (759 A)24.

Y aurait-il en somme pour Montaigne deux mlancolies25?

L'humeur atrabilaire serait-elle "double rebras", fermant quand
la rclusion qu'elle opre dveloppe anarchiquement la pulsion
gntique du sujet, ouvrant au contraire la comprhension de
l'autre quand la solitude devient le gage d'une sociabilit, la
bonne inclination tempramentale tant non celle qui chosifie le
sujet (condamn "se nourrir de sa mlancolie" et de son
fantasme improductif), mais celle qui dcouvre dans le renoncement soi de l'acidia la structure "re-ligieuse" du rapport
l'autre?
La lettre perdue

Faut-il alors se demander si le mlancolique ne rencontre

pas son "surmoi" dans "la relation autruy"? Il est en tout tat de
cause significatif que les textes qui attribuent la gense des Essais
une humeur mlancoliquedont il convient d'"enroller" ou "con-

22
L'assimilation de la mlancolie la lie du vin est centrale dans le
Problme 30, 1.
23

Le "travail" de la pierre qui se "bastit" de ses superfluits est ainsi le substitut du travail de l'criture: "L'empereur Julian (...) avoit honte si en public on
le voioit cracher ou suer (...) parce qu'il estimoit que l'exercice, le travail continuel
(...) devoient avoir cuit et assch toutes ces superfluitez" (677 A). On peut se
demander si, dans la Melencholia I de Drer, le bloc polydre ne remplit pas la
mme fonction: dlimiter l'intersection entre le corps et sa sublimation esthtique.
24

Ce "calcul" (Montaigne dit avoir subi la premire atteinte de la pierre

45 ans) ne permet pas ici de remonter exactement au dbut des Essais (1572).
Mais ailleurs l'essayiste date son premier calcul biliaire de ses 40 ans (1093, note
1).
25
Autant que l'on puisse accorder du crdit aux arbitrages ditoriaux de
l'poque, on notera que Montaigne recourt la graphie tymologique, plus tech-nique
et mdicale ("melancholie"), quand il s'agit du Doyen de St Hilaire; la graphie
usuelle et commune (sans le "h") quand il s'agit de sa propre complexion.

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treroller" les divagations, soient les seuls textes comportant un

destinataire rel, que ce destinataire soit effectif (Diane de Foix
et Mme d'Estissac pour "De l'Institution" et "De l'Affection des
pres aux enfants"), ou virtuel, mais nanmoins en situation de
"contrerolleur" au titre d'une dette ou d'un devoir remplir (le
pre dans 1'"Apologie", l'ami perdu dans "De l'Amiti"). Mieux
encore, la plupart des occurrences du terme "mlancolie" dans les
Essais se concentrent dans les deux prologues "mta-essayistes"
destins aux deux lectrices-mres signales plus haut et qui
retiendront seules notre attention pour l'instant26. Ces lectrices
ont en effet une particularit remarquable: femmes et mres,
elles le sont bien sr, mais la faon de "(C) cette Bradamant ou
Anglique (...) d'une beaut nave, active, genereuse, non hommasse mais virile, travestie en garon, coiffe d'un morrion
luysant" que l'"Institution" prcisment propose en modle
l'enfant (162). "(A) Vous estes trop genereuse pour commencer
autrement que par un masle" (148): c'est des femmes qui ont
su, en dpit de leur fminit, lever leur progniture en mles
(en substitution d'un poux dcd) que Montaigne voue et
avoue les gestations "mlancoliques" de son esprit, se hasardant
pour la premire fois voquer non plus seulement ses
"fantaisies", mais ses "escrits"27. Comme si en dfinitive l'criture
de la "mlancolie" devait tenir sa lgitimit d'une continuit
gnalogique d'autant plus remarquable en l'occurrence qu'elle
est le fait d'un sexe qui gnralement sont dnies virilit et
nobilitas.

26

Ajoutons Mme de Duras, autre veuve clbre, qui Montaigne ddie ses
"inepties" (783) dans la ddicace place la fin de la premire livraison des Essais
et fait encore plus significatif - immdiatement la suite du dernier essai "De
la ressemblance des enfans aux pres" (II, 37). Remarquons du reste que la formulation du titre, dans ce dernier essai, forme un chiasme avec sa rciproque
mentionne plus haut "De l'affection des pres aux enfants": l'amour
"gnreux" des pres pour leurs enfants rpond en cho et distance la ressemblance non moins "gnreuse" des enfants ces mmes pres.
27
"De l'Institution" s'origine aussi dans la volont paternelle: les
"gnreux" principes pdagogiques appliqus au jeune Michel par son pre
avaient donn Buchanan l'ide "d'escrire de l'institution des enfants [en]
pren[ant] exemplaire de la mienne" (174 A), projet jamais ralis sinon rtrospectivement par l'essai.

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

247

Mais si la lettre amoureuse28 (dont les Essais ddis aux lectrices "gnreuses" seraient la transposition structurelle)
modlise bien la forme premire de "relation autruy"
qu'envisage l'essayiste pour mettre "en rolle" ses "fantaisies
mlancoliques", il n'en reste pas moins que la solution
"pistolaire" s'avrecomme telleincapable d'authentifier
l'entreprise littraire: Montaigne renoncera prsenter les Essais
sous forme de lettres pour la raison que ce "commerce", en faussant les
rapports intersubjectifs (on "s'accommode pour une bonne fin la
vanit d'autruy"), risque d'accentuer encore le caractre dj
minemment fictif des "resveries mlancoliques":
(C) Et eusse prins plus volontiers cette forme publier mes verves, si
j'eusse eu qui parler. Il me falloit, comme je l'ay eu autrefois, un certain
commerce qui m'attirast, qui le soutinst et soulevast. Car de negotier au
vent, comme d'autres, je ne saurois que de songes, ny forger des vains
noms entretenir en chose serieuse: ennemy jur de toute falsification
(252).

"Negotier au vent, je ne saurais que de songes": sous cette forme

factice et artificielle de communication qu'est la "correspondance", le "commerce" avec autrui ne saurait en aucune
manire produire une uvre partir du dsuvrement (ngotier, c'est
l'envers de l'oisivet: nec-otium) ni la caution intersubjec-tive d'un
destinataire autoriser les lucubrations mlancoliques de la
subjectivit, l'un et l'autre poussant au contraire une
dilapidation plus grande encore de la rverie ("negocier au
vent"). Aussi l'instance interlocutrice (indispensable, on l'a dit, pour
lgitimer le projet autobiographique) va-t-elle en con-squence
se dplacer dans un premier temps sur un dialogue "domestique et
prive"29, ensuite et surtout sur la dialectique du dialogue labor
entre l'auteur lui-mme et son propre livre o

28

"(B) Si tout le papier que j'ay autresfois barbouill pour les dames, estoit en
nature..." (253). Pour J. Starobinski, op. cit., p. 227, cette lecture destine la femme
serait "un acte d'amour interpos". Sur la "fminisation" de rcriture chez Montaigne,
voir rcemment Robert D. Cottrell, "Gender Imprinting in Montaigne's Essais," in
L'Esprit Crateur, 30, 4, 1990, pp. 85-96.
29
C'est, on le sait, la premire justification des Essais dans l'avis "Au lec-teur"
(abandonn partir de 1588): "(A) Je ne me suis propos aucune fin, que domestique
et prive. Je 1' (ce livre) ay vou la commodit particulire de mes parents et amis:
ce que m'ayant perdu (...) ils y puissent retrouver aucuns traits de mes conditions et
humeurs, et que par ce moyen ils nourrissent plus entiere et plus vive la connoissance
qu'ils ont eu de moy" (3).

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s'exerceraen tte ttela seule juridiction efficace du moi sur le

moi, la seule en tout cas qui "rende compte consubstantielle-ment"
des divagations mlancoliques.
Et quand personne ne me lira, ay-je perdu mon temps de m'estre
entretenu tant d'heures oisifves pensements si utiles et aggreables?
Moulant sur moy cette figure, il m'a fallu si souvent dresser et com-poser
pour m'extraire, que le patron s'en est fermy et aucunement form soymesmes. Me peignant pour autruy, je me suis peint en moy de couleurs
plus nettes que n'estoyent les miennes premieres. Je n'ay pas plus faict
mon livre que mon livre m'a faict, livre consubstantiel son autheur, d'une
occupation propre, membre de ma vie; non d'une occupation et fin tierce
et estrangere comme tous autres livres. Ay-je perdu mon temps de m'estre
rendu compte de moy si continuellement, si curieusement (665)?

Si "se peindre pour autruy" est ncessaire pour "se peindre en soy de
couleurs plus nettes", la conversation avec le livre suffira en
dfinitivemieux que toute autre remplir la condition d'altrit
exige pour valoriser et rformer les productions, autrement
"informes", du "moi". Ce qui permet en effet l'auteur de
"s'extraire" ainsi, en vertu du contrat de rciprocit dfini par
l'criture, du flux des humeurs et des alas de l'idiosyncrasie, c'est
bien l'assurance du lien gnalogique, l'authenticit de la filiation
qui unit "consubstantiellement" le livre son auteur: aussi est-ce
sans surprise dans l'incipit de "L'Institution" que Montaigne,
s'adressant une mre "gnreuse" et remmorant les checs de sa
propre ducation place sous le signe du pre, assume en toute
responsabilit, sans complaisance ni faiblesse aucune, la paternit
de son uvre, lgitimant du mme coup son "auctoritas" quelle que
soit par ailleurs la difformit de cet "enfant d'Idume":
(A) Je ne vis jamais pere, pour teigneux ou boss que fut son fils, qui
laissast de l'avoer. Non pourtant, s'il n'est du tout enivr de cet'affection,
qu'il ne s'aperoive de sa dfaillance; mais tant y a qu'il est sien. Aussi
moy, je voy, mieux que tout autre, que ce ne sont icy que resveries
d'homme qui n'a goust des sciences que la crouste premiere, en son
enfance, et n'en a retenu qu'un general et informe visage... (146)30.

30
La reconnaissance "en paternit" des Essais s'inspire, semble-t-il, la fois de
l'autorit bienveillante dont le pre a fait preuve l'gard du jeune Michel, et du
sentiment de culpabilit de n'avoir pas rpondu l'attente paternelle, situation d'chec
que la relation russie de l'auteur son livre s'efforce rtrospectivement de corriger.

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

249

On mesure mieux ds lors la stratgie qui situe la mlancolie

l'origine des Essais: en faisant prendre conscience de la ncessit
qu'il y a pour une criture du moi de s'inscrire dans un espace
convivial (ce que dmontrait la contre-preuve du Doyen de
Saint-Hilaire), l'"humeur farouche et solitaire" prescrit nanmoins que l'autre s'efface devant la structure mme de l'altrit,
que la relation autruieffective l'originese trouve remplace
par une relation virtuelle (la paternit symbolique, figure de
l'Autre), celle-l mme qui est l'uvre dans l'uvre lorsque la
gense accidentelle se dpasse vers une gnalogie authentifiant
l'autorit de l'auteur sur les productions de son esprit qui autrement demeureraient improductives et incommunicables31. Reste
savoir quel prix est ralis ce lien gnalogique qui permet
l'idiosyncrasie de dvelopper une symbolique. C'est ce que dira
la visite un autre prisonnier mlancolique, plus clbre et
exemplaire celui-lmais dont le cas est aussi plus tragique et
problmatiqueque l'insignifiant Doyen de Saint-Hilaire. On y
apprendra comment la "mlancolie gniale"tat "anormalement
normal"permet la singularit des Essais de devenir une
gnralit.
"Survivant soy-mesme"

Rappelons dans quel contexteau cur mme de

l'"Apologie de Raymond Sebond"surgit la mditation pathtique
sur l'internement du Tasse Sainte-Anne de Ferrare.
L'argument porte provisoirement sur la dnonciation des mfaits
psychophysiologiques de l'imagination: "(A) Combien en a
rendu de malades la seule force de l'imagination (...) L'autre a
souvent la pierre en l'ame avant qu'il l'ait aux reins" (491). Ne
vaudrait-il pas mieux tre "grossier et lourd" l'exemple des
muletiers, souvent "plus fermes et plus desirables aux executions
amoureuses" qu'"un galant homme, sinon que en celuy-cy
l'agitation de l'ame trouble sa force corporelle, la rompt et lasse"

31
Ce "dplacement" se trouvait programm dans les paroles nigmatiques de La
Botie demandant, sur son lit de mort, son ami "de se mettre sa place" (allusion
peut-tre la place d'auteur que Montaigne devra assumer en publiant l'uvre de la
Botie destine former le "centre absent" des Essais).

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(491)32? C'est cette thse psychosomatique que vient appuyer, aprs

le voyage en Italie, l'adjonction de 1582 (encore complte en 1588
et 1595): l'me n'est-elle pas le lieu mmeabsoludu
dsquilibre et du drglement?
(A) Comme elle lasse aussi et trouble ordinairement soymesmes. Qui la
desment, qui la jette plus coustumierement la manie que sa
promptitude, sa pointe, son agilit, et en fin sa force propre? (B)
Dequoy se faict la plus subtile folie, que de la plus subtile sagesse?
Comme des grandes amitiez naissent des grandes inimitiez; des santez
vigoreuses, les mortelles maladies: ainsi des rares et vifves agitations de
nos ames, les plus excellentes manies et plus detraques; il n'y a qu'un
demy tour de cheville passer de l'un l'autre. (A) Aux actions des
hommes insansez, nous voyons combien proprement s'avient la folie
avecq les plus vigoureuses operations de nostre ame. Qui ne sait
combien est imperceptible le voisinage d'entre la folie avecq les
gaillardes elevations d'un esprit libre et les effects d'une vertu
suprme et extraordinaire? Platon dict les mechancoliques [sic]33 plus
disciplinables et excellans: aussi n'en est-il point qui ayent tant de
propencion la folie. Infinis esprits se treuvent ruinez par leur propre force
et soupplesse. Quel saut vient de prendre, de sa propre agita-tion et
allegresse, l'un des plus judicieux, ingenieux et plus forms l'air de cette
antique et pure poisie, qu'autre pote Italien aye de long-temps est? N'a il
pas dequoy savoir gr cette sienne vivacit meurtrire? cette
clart qui l'a aveugl? cette exacte et tendue apprehension de la raison
qui l'a mis sans raison? la curieuse et laborieuse queste des sciences
qui l'a conduict la bestise? cette rare aptitude aux exercices de l'ame,
qui l'a rendu sans exercice et sans ame? J'eus plus de despit encore que de
compassion, de le voir Fer-rare en si piteux estat, survivant soy-mesmes,
mesconnoissant et soy et ses ouvrages, lesquels, sans son seu, et
toutesfois sa veu, on a mis en lumiere incorrigez et informes.
Voulez vous un homme sain, le voulez vous regl et en ferme et
seure posteure? affublez le de tenebres, d'oisivet et de pesanteur. (C) Il
nous faut abestir pour nous assagir, et nous esblouir pour nous guider
(492).

32

L'adjonction de 1595 se rfre "ceux du Bresil [qui] ne mouroyent que de

vieillesse [en raison de] la serenit et tranquillit" moins du climat ou de l'"air", que de
"leur ame, descharge de toute passion et pense et occupation tendue ou desplaisante,
comme gents qui passoyent leur vie en une admirable simplicit et ignorance, sans
lettres, sans loy, sans roy, sans relligion quelconque" (491 C). Sur la nudit des
sauvages comme idal de l'autobiographie ("[A] que si j'eusse est entre ces nations
qu'on dict vivre encore sous la douce libert des premieres loix de nature, je m'y fusse
tres-volontiers peint tout entier, et tout nud", Au lecteur), cf. G. Nakam, "Ers et les
muses dans Sur des vers de Virgile", in Etudes seizi-mistes offertes V.-L.
Saulnier, 1980.
33
Faut-il voir dans cette graphie trange reproduite dans toutes les ditions,
un lapsus visant la "mchante" mlancolie?

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251

Apparemment la dmonstration s'autorise d'une thse

aristotlicienne (faussement attribue Platon): la liaison
problmatique entre le gnie et la mlancolie34. En ralit, ici
comme ailleurs dans les Essais, Montaigne aboutit contradictoirement une conclusion oppose au cours du traitement
intertextuel de la citation. Le glissement le plus sensible est
opr par antanaclase ou diaphore du qualificatif "excellent" qui
traduit bon endroit le "perissos" du Problme 30, 1 ("les melancholiques sont plus disciplinables et excellants"), mais qui dvie
de son sme positif vers la connotation ngative forme par le
nouveau syntagme ("les plus excellentes manies et plus dtraques")35. Certeset nous l'avons rappel plus hautle Problme
aristotlicien suggrait bien un rapport implicite entre "perissos"
(terme qui qualifie la supriorit gniale du mlancolique) et
"perissa" (les superfluits de la bile noire), mais la rhtorique
montaignienne transforme la distinction sens figur/sens propre
des deux termes au profit d'un mot d'esprit: ainsi l o la citation impliquait un diagnostic diffrentiel entre folie et gnie, le
commentaire introduit un tranglement tropologique propre la
pointe baroque ("il n'y a qu'un demy tour de cheville passer de
l'un l'autre"; "qui ne sait combien est imperceptible le
voisinage")36. D'o un second glissement qu'entrane le tour

34

La suite de YEssai voque du reste d'autres symptmes du Problme 30, 1:

liaison entre la nature "venteuse" de la mlancolie et le dsir sexuel ("(A) le
chatouillement et esguisement qui se rencontre en certains plaisirs") (493); analo-gie
entre les effets de la mlancolie et ceux du vin (494 A); facult de mmoration exceptionnelle, mais dangereuse qu'ont les mlancoliques ("De vuyder et demunir
la memoire, est-ce pas le vray et propre chemin de l'ignorance?") (495 A); "curiositas"
(498 A) et mme pendaison, ultime alternative l'impossible qute de vrit du
mlancolique ("Il falloit provision ou de sens pour entendre, ou de licol pour se
pendre") (497 A).
35
A un degr moindre, on pourrait en dire autant des antithses: "grandes
amitiez/grandes inimitiez", "subtile folie/subtile sagesse". Comme on voit, le glissement peut s'oprer entre le texte de 1582 et l'allongeail de 1588 (dans le cas
d'"excellent"), mais aussi dans l'adjonction elle-mme. Globalement, il semble que le
texte de 1582 soit plus conforme la rpartition du texte aristotlicien qui distingue le
mlancolique pathologique du mlancolique gnial: "folie/les plus vifgoureuses
oprations de nostre ame","folie/gaillardes lvations d'un esprit libre et les effects
d'une vertu supreme et extraordinaire".
36
Le resserrement de la pointe baroque se lit encore dans le paradoxe: "Qui la
[l'ame] la jette plus coustumierement la manie que sa promptitude, sa pointe, son
agilet, et enfin sa force propre?"

252

Olivier Pot

rsolument "humoristique" ou critique appliqu la distinction

aristotlicienne, la mtaphore pointant dsormais l'espace
mystificateur de toute opration de l'esprit: alors que le
Problme 30, 1 faisait de la mlancolie la condition ncessaire,
mais non suffisante du gnie qui se dlimite restrictivement par
rapport elle ("Pour quelle raison tous ceux qui ont t des
hommes d'exception... sont-ils manifestement mlancoliques")37,
Montaigne voit dans la folie l'tat le plus communment et
universellement partag de l'esprit en gnral ("Infiniz esprits se
trouvent ruins par leur propre force et souplesse")38, modification qui
est une forme de lacisation de la folie chrtienne selon la dfinition
de l'Eloge de la folie d'Erasme39. D'une logique de la comprhension
qui est celle du Problme 30, 2, le commentaire montaignien glisse
subrepticement une logique de l'extension: une chose est de
remarquer que les individus d'exception sont des mlancoliques,
une autre est d'en dduire que... tous les mlancoliques sont des
gnies malheureux, thse qui videm-ment convient davantage la
stratgie de l'"Apologie"40.
Un dernier glissement enfin. Le Problme 30,1 justifiait
l'alternative problmatiqueobserve chez les mlancoliques en
gnralentre symptme morbide et manifestation gniale, par les
variations diffrencielles de l'humeur noire, tantt froide ou
chauffe, tantt quilibre entre ces deux tats pathologiques. Le
premier terme de l'alternative rendait compte de l'existence des
mlancoliques "accidentels", soit ceux qui se trouvaient pris de folie
furieuse ("mania") ou l'inverse qui tombaient dans la prostration
stupide ("nothroi"); quant au second terme, il

37

La restriction est encore accentue dans le Problme 30, 1 par

l'adjonction: "et certains mmes au point d'tre saisis par les maux dont la bile noire
est l'origine".
38
Relevons aussi la gnralisation: "Qui la [l'me] jette plus coustumire-ment
la manie...?"
39
D'o les rfrences ritres l'Ecclsiaste ("En beaucoup de sagesse,
beaucoup de desplaisir; et, qui acquiert science, s'acquiert du travail et du tour-ment",
4% A) ou saint Paul (497 A).
40
L'"Apologie" se situe bien en ce sens dans la continuit de YEloge de la Folie.
Montaigne cite et traduit l'appui "un vers ancien Grec" (Sophocle, Ajax, 552) tir des
Adages d'Erasme ("il y a beaucoup de commodit n'estre pas si advis") (496 A).

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

253

englobait au contraire les mlancoliques "gniaux". Mlancoliques par naturedia physin, ces derniers se trouvaient tre
"normalement anormaux"41, dans l'exacte mesure o, chez eux,
les deux versants pathologiques de la mlancolie s'quilibraient
et s'annulaient par un don de nature (manikoi kai euphues: fous
et dous par nature)42. Or l'analyse de la folie du Tasse vient
compltement brouiller ce rpartitoire (qui embotecomme
dans une mise "en abyme"une alternative dans une autre alternative) par l'omission dlibre de la seconde articulation (les
"nothroi") et par l'assimilation rciproque des deux autres
syndromes. D'une part il n'est fait aucune rfrence la
"stupidit", et pour cause: elle sera rcupre positivement dans
le contexte argumentatif sous la forme d'une "docta ignorantia"
prne par l'"Apologie"43. D'autre part, la suppression de
l'alternative embote permet par un jeu de passe-passe une
transformation de l'alternative principale exclusivechez
Aristoteen alternative simplement disjonctive44: ainsi libr de
son alterne, le diagnostic ngatif ("manie") se voit corrler sans
autre avec le terme positif de l'alternative principale ("promptitude de l'esprit"), ce qui a pour rsultat d'instaurer une relation
non plus oppositive, mais synonymique du point de vue des effets
("qui jette plus l'ame la manie que sa promptitude, sa pointe,
son agilit, et enfin sa force propre"). Ds lors la frontire ne
passe plus entre pathologie et gnie, le gnie tant dans cette
hypothse un excessus (donc une exception) dans l'excs de la
pathologie, mais se veut la "pointe" immanente d'une folie
rdhibitoire qui s'universalise en l'absence de toute alternative.
"Aux hommes insensez, nous voyons combien proprement
s'avient la folie avecq les plus vigoureuses oprations de nostre
ame". La formule n'est donc plus: tout gnie est (en quelque

41

SM, p. 76.

42

Problme 30,1, p. 97, d. Pigeaud qui fait un rapprochement avec la Potique 1455 a 32.
43
Au moins dans un premier temps, car nous verrons plus loin comment la
problmatique aristotlicienne refait partiellement surface dans les adjonctions
tardives.
44
Grammaticalement, ce serait la diffrence entre les deux usages du "ou"
dont le second affecte une synonymie: ainsi comparez "C'est lui ou moi vs "Bonnet blanc ou blanc bonnet".

Olivier Pot

254

manire) un fou, mais chaque fou a ("s'avient avecq") littrale-ment

("proprement") du gnie, cette dernire propositionqui nous
sduirait peut-tre aujourd'hui, mais est inconcevable l'poque
excluant implicitement l'ide mme d'une "gnialit" qui serait
inhrente l'homme. Tel tait, nous l'avons dit plus haut, l'effet de
la mtaphorisation baroque du Problme 30, 1: elle abolit le
rapport mtonymique entre gnie et mlancolie dans la "pointe"
humoristique, dans la mtaphore d'une folie gnrale45.
En "pliant" le Problme 30, 1 " son propos", la complainte de la
folie "tassienne" ne se contente pas d'amputer fortement le
schma tiologique d'Aristote, elle en surdtermine galement le
diagnostic de culpabilit induisant une raction de rpulsion
l'gard des manifestations excessives de l'humeur. Ne pouvant
aucun prix constituer une cause "suffisante" du "gnie" (puisque la
thse soutenue par l'"Apologie" ne saurait souffrir une quel-conque
exceptionnalit naturelle dont on pourrait attendre une sur-naturalit
de la nature), la "mlancolie" n'a qu'un effet nces-sairement
dgradant et avilissant. Sauf la racheter ou la valoriser comme
un effet humoristique ("spirituel") interne l'esprit lui-mme, la
relation entre le gnie et son substrat gnti-que ne peut se concevoir
autrement que comme la fatalit con-gnitale d'une
dgnrescence qui fait rgresser la pense sa gnitalit
incontrlable: alors qu'Aristote estimait la rdemption de l'humeur
naturellement (et gntiquement) possible, Montaigne
n'entrevoit dans le jeu humoral que la "chute" invitable, le
"plongeon aux abismes infernaux" auxquels seule la grce "gratis
data" de Dieu, grce autrement hors de porte de l'esprit humain et
objet de la foi seule46, pourrait remdier. Au modle dialectique et
synchronique du Problme 30, 1 visant quilibrer les syndromes
mlancoliques: folie/gnie dans une ratio humorale, se substitue
un modle linaire et toujours dgressif qui fait "retomber"
brutalement le gnie ses origines ("Quel saut"), la mlancolie ne
pouvant par nature que se laisser

45

En termes de logique, on passe d'une folie dnotative (ou comprhensive) une mlancolie connotative (ou extensive).
46
"Les simples, dict S. Paul, et les ignorans s'eslevent et saisissent le ciel; et nous,
tout nostre savoir, nous plongeons aux abismes infernaux" (497 A).

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

255

entraner par son propre poids, et la pense qu'elle induit, par sa

propre pese, son "pendimento". L'itinraire du Tasse se trouve ainsi
"dcompos" en un "avant" et un "aprs": d'abord le temps de la
cration, des fulgurances de l'esprit, puis le "saut" qui intro-duit au
temps tnbreux de la "btise" et de la prostration.
Dfinitivement envelopp dans la chape de plomb de sa maladie, le
Tasse de Sainte-Anne paye alors, par une stupidit totale et par
l'obscurcissement irrmdiable de ses facults, l'clat de ce gnie
qui, en une priode antrieure et jamais rvolue, avait tonn le
monde. Insistons sur cette divergence par rapport au Problme 30,
1. Pour Aristote, le processus qui lie mlancolie pathologique et
mlancolie gniale tient de la rversibilit: sens et non-sens alternent
continuellement par un jeu de contrepartie (on dira plus tard: par
cyclothymic), l'opposition tant rgle seulement par le diagnostic
discriminatoire qui peut galit aussi bien construire ou
dconstruire la validit du phnomne47. Pour Montaigne au
contraire, l'opration joue sens (ou plutt " non-sens") unique: le
Tasse a brl une fois pour toutes les feux de son intelligence, le
diamant s'est transmu pour toujours en scorie rsiduelle, et c'est sur
l'image d'un "survivant soy-mme", d'un "mort-vivant", que
l'essayiste interrompt sa descente aux Enfers, renvoyant sans remords le
mort la mort.
Cette "opration d'anantissement du nant"48 que
Montaigne assume face la "vivacit meurtrire" du Tasse
anticipe, dans l'histoire de la mlancolie, une coupure radicale par
rapport l'interprtation traditionnelle du Problme 30, 1. Le pote
italien lui-mme se rfrait encore Aristote chaque fois qu'il
"autoanalysait" lucidement sa "mlancolie" vue par lui non comme
une manifestation pathologique, mais comme le

47
J'avais autrefois attribu trop vite cette bivalence la folie du Tasse, la suite
de Screech, Montaigne and Melancholy, dont l'interprtation est plus vanglique
(pour le chrtien, la folie est sagesse) que ne l'est le texte d'Aristote: le passage sur le
Tasse ne comporte en effet aucun diagnostic discriminatoire et positif de la
mlancolie.
48
Selon la formule de Foucault, Histoire de la Folie l'ge classique, coll. Tel,
1978, pp. 267-68, qui voit dans ces "souhaits de mort" l'expression de la logi-que
fondamentale du renfermement l'ge classique.

256

Olivier Pot

signe hautement prometteur de son gnie49. Est-ce dlibrment que

Montaigne ignore ce diagnostic? Comme il ignore le
tmoignage concordant des premiers biographes tassiens, celui de
Maffeo Veniero par exemple qui, quatre ans avant la relation de
Montaigne, dplore certes l'aspect pitoyable offert par l'individu,
mais se dit nanmoins convaincu que le pote saura encore donner
le jour des uvres au moins gales celles qu'il a dj produites,
les accs de la draison et du dlire, selon lui, ne pouvant qu'exalter
en dfinitive les capacits potiques. Folie et inspiration potique,
crit-il en conclusion, sont deux "ralits surs": "non e la poesia in
lui contaminata, si perch la pazzia ed alla siano sorelle"50. Rien de tel
chez Montaigne: la "pazzia" a indiscutablement "contaminata" la posie
du Tasse, absorbant l'uvre du pote la faon d'un corps "estranger",
la poussant la ruine, la dgradant vers sa bestialit et inhumanit:
Thanatos a pris dfinitivement le dessus sur Eros. Montaigne n'a
plus mme nommer le Tasse par son nom propre ("l'un des plus
judicieux qu'autre pote italien ayt t"): l'crivain fou est
devenu sans nom, "nemo", personne juridiquement et morale-ment
morte pour l'histoire littraire. Le Doyen de Saint-Hilaire conservait
encore dans sa misanthropie une part d'identit: ne pouvait-il pas
lire? "Survivant soy-mesmes", le Tasse non seule-ment ne se
connat plus, mais il ne reconnat mme plus ses ou-vrages:
"Mesconnoissant et soy et ses ouvrages". Avec le rejet du patronyme
pour l'anonymat de la folie, c'est la paternit mme de l'uvre qui
est mise en question: "lesquelz sans son seu, et toutesfois sa
veu, on a mis en lumire incorrigez et informes". "Sans son seu": le
dsaveu parodie et pervertit sans nul doute la

49
Non d'ailleurs sans hsitations comme en tmoignent les variantes du
Dialogue Il messaggerio, o le Tasse consacre un assez long dveloppement la
conception aristotlicienne de la mlancolie. Cf. Alain Godard, "Le "sage
dlirant": la "folie" du Tasse, selon ses premiers biographes", in Visage de la Folie (15001650), Colloque tenu la Sorbonne, 1981, pp. 13-22 (article dont je m'inspire
ici pour la "folie" du Tasse).
50
A. Godard, art. cit, p. 15 et 16 (avec rfrence B. Basile,
"Archeologia d'un mito Tassiano: il poeta malinconico"). Mais mme dfaut de
connatre ces textes italiens, Montaigne aurait pu se souvenir de Ronsard qui, la mme
poque, donne une interprtation de la mlancolie -- sans doute parce qu'elle dfend
son image de pote plus conforme la thorie aristotlicienne, cf. O. Pot,
Mlancolie et Inspiration dans les amours de Ronsard, 1990.

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

257

conception aristotlicienne du "poeta inscius", du pote inspir

parce que inconscient de ses propres oprations ("Marakos le
Syracusain tait certes meilleur pote quand il tait trang de
lui-mme")51. "Incorrigez et informes": l'expression est bien
celle qui dsigne les "resveries mlancoliques" de Montaigne,
mais sans cet attachement lgitime qui, si l'on en croit l'Essai "De
l'affection des pres aux enfants", fait que "chascun est aucunement en son ouvrage" et prfrerait "enterrer ses enfans" plutt
qu' "enterrer ses escrits" (387 et 401). Peut-il en effet y avoir
encore un lien gnrique l o ne subsiste plus, avec le mortvivant, qu'un lien gntique purement accidentel? En rejetant le
garde-fou du Problme 30, 1, Montaigne prparait ainsi la voie
la nouvelle tradition de la "folie tassienne" qui se dessinera
immdiatement aprs la mort du pote: voquant la mort rcente
du Tasse, Guarini par exemple se complat dans un jeu
d'antithses et de distinctions entre mort potique et mort
spirituelle, entre vie trop courte pour ceux qui aimaient le pote
et vie trop longue vie dsormais purement vgtative confronte au naufrage de l'intelligence survenu bien des annes
auparavant. La mort physique du Tasse "parebbe pi tosto fine
della sua morte mondana, ch'aveva sembianza di vita": si le
Tasse continue encore d'crire, cette criture donnera alors le
spectacleinquitant et scandaleux pour un humanisted'une
criture sans sujet, d'une criture du corps, et donc d'un texte
sans auteur ni autorit52.
On comprend alors l'aversion du visiteur de Sainte-Anne: le
paradoxe que constitue le corps-crivant du Tasse semblerait
indiquer que l'essayiste a choisi en ralit une position
intellectuelle plus tragique et inconfortable encore. Car s'il
renonce l'chappatoire que la Renaissance avait trouv jusqu'
lui dans le Problme 30, 7, Montaigne ne se rallie pas
davantagepour rsoudre le dilemme entre draison et gnie
cette dispersion et fragmentation des causes et des effets grce
auxquels l'pistmologie baroque innocentera la folie et que la
tradition biographique du Tasse s'empressera de mettre en
uvre ds le dbut du dix-septime sicle. Pour Guarini par

51

SM,p. 64.

52

Godard, art. cit, p. 17.

258

Olivier Pot

exemple, la folie du Tasse ne fut qu'une feinte destine

paradoxalement sauvegarder la raison quand les contradictions
insolubles de la ralit devenaient trop oppressantes, une simula-tion
visant garantir l'autonomie intrieure et la libert mentale du sage
quand les injustices du monde extrieur ou la tyrannie du pouvoir se
faisaient insupportablement oppressives: alors la mlancolie qui
suscite un penchant spontan pour la solitude se rvle tre la
formule la plus raisonnablement compatible avec le choix d'une
"retraite", d'un "repli" hors d'un monde dcidment insens; elle est
mme dicte en dfinitive par un fort sentiment civique comme en
tmoignent pour l'Antiquit Solon et Brutus53. Avec l'interprtation de
Manso, l'autre biographe du Tasse, cette casuistique baroque se
poursuit jusqu' la dissolution de tout l'irrationnel que comporterait
la folie, travers la multitude des accidents et causes objectives qui
l'expliquent54. Le pote italien n'tait aucunement fou, tout au plus
avait-il quelque prdisposi-tion la mlancolie, prdisposition
qu'ont exacerbe parfois certains malheurs et accidents de
l'existence: disparition prmature d'une mre, excs d'tude chez
un jeune enfant ner-veux, vie errante la suite du pre proscrit
puis dcd, indigence et pauvret, pour ne pas parler des critiques
malveil-

53

A. Godard, pp. 17-18. On retrouve ce traitement baroque de la mlan-colie

inaugur sans doute avec l'Hamlet de Shakespeare dans les diverses Folies du
sage propres au thtre franais du dbut du XVIIme sicle (dans le Snque ou la
Mariane de Tristan l'Hermite, le tyran est le seul mlancolique pathologique, la
mlancolie du sage n'tant qu'une ruse pour chapper la folie du tyran, voire la
dnoncer par un comportement rvolt qui anticiperait un mal-heur inluctable). Cette
stratgie fictive qui permet de rsister la tyrannie en se rfugiant dans le fors intrieur
et en utilisant l'alibi d'une folie feinte implique videmment une conception
stocienne de la mlancolie contraire l'analyse du Problme 30, 1: pour Snque, la
folie du sage n'est jamais, l'encontre de la mlancolie gniale, un tat "naturel",
mais seulement un accident extrieur et provisoire qui ne met en rien en question le
Logos universel, les notions de sagesse et de folie tant -- comme chez Montaigne -mutuellement exclusives, cf. SM, "La perspective stocienne", p. 92 sqq.
54
Cette dissolution prsente une analogie avec la tendance, note par Foucault,
une prolifration exubrante des causes lointaines de la folie (Histoire de la Folie, pp.
239-41). Mais plutt qu'une caractristique du classicisme, nous voyons pour notre
part dans cette pulvrisation tiologique un phnomne baro-que comme le prouvent
les taxonomies de Burton, cf. Patricia Vacar, The View from Minerva's Tower.
Learning and Imagination in the Anatomy of Melancholy, 1989.

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

259

lantes dont le pote est l'objet et surtout de l'vnement que

Manso considre comme dcisif et qui se situe justement dans la
priode ferraraise o se dclare la crise du Tasse: les amours
frustrs du pote devenu le rival du duc et contraint en consquenced'ailleurs la suite d'un malheureux quiproquo55de
choisir la folie comme seule issue l'aporie de son existence56.
On sait comment Descartes fera l'conomie de ces mises en
scnes de la folie57: lorsqu'il envisage au passage la possibilit
pour le philosophe d'tre tromp l'instar de "ces insenss, de
qui le cerveau est tellement troubl et offusqu par les noires
vapeurs de la bile, qu'ils assurent constamment qu'ils sont des
rois, lorsqu'ils sont trs pauvres", l'auteur des Mditations tranche
sans hsitation: "Mais quoi! Ce sont des fous". Bien qu' priori
la ligne de partage qu'il prconise entre folie et raison prlude au
grand renfermement classique, Montaigne ne partage videmment pas le coup de force rationaliste du cartsianisme: s'il
retire la folie tassienne toute sympathie ou comprhension (les
modalits existentielles ou la thtralisation de la mlancolie
baroque telles que les envisagent autour de 1600 Manso et
Guarini), ses ractions instinctives de "despit" tmoignent nanmoins d'une attirance morbide, d'une curiosit agace et d'un
intrt pour le moins ambigu l'gard de cette "chute"58. Pour
faire bref, disons que l'interprtation montaignienne se situerait
en amont de l'illusionisme baroque de la folie et en aval de la
valeur ontologique que la Renaissance reconnat au Problme 30,
1: s'il nie la transformation du mlancolique en gnie que

55

Manso suggre que la dame anonyme est la propre sur du Duc: scnario
romanesque qui est, l encore, celui d'une pice baroque de la folie, le quiproquo
devenant le ressort dramaturgique qui fait basculer le pote du ct des apparences
de la folie au terme d'un dilemne cornlien (pour ne pas dmriter du Prince qu'il
admire et en proie une culpabilit pathologique, Le Tasse prfrera en fin de
compte l'accusation de folie [simule] celle de dloyaut), Godard, art. cit,
p. 18.
56
On croirait lire l'Anatomy of Melancholy o le prisme des symtmes
traditionnels de la mlancolie (pauvret, mort, vagabondage, malveillance, etc...) est
invers en sries de causes naturelles ou accidentelles de l'humeur.
57
Voir O. Pot, "L'Hypocondriaque au thtre", in Versants, 16, 1989, pp. 73-91.
58
"Montaigne prouve dpit plus encore que piti; mais admiration, au fond,
plus encore que tout", Foucault, op. cit., p. 42.

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Olivier Pot

proposait l'hypothse aristotlicienne, l'essayiste conserve nanmoins au fond l'interrogation problmatique de cette hypothse
puisqu'il se contente d'inverser la force ascensionnelle de
l'humeur dans la brutalit et violence incomprhensible de la
chute, source la fois de fascination et de rpulsion. Loin de
s'lever vers le haut, vers la gnialit, l'esprit se voit happer
avaler et ravalerdramatiquement cette fois et en vertu d'on ne
sait quelle fatalit mystrieusedans les replis sombres de
l'humeur o s'efface toute figure humaine du pote, dans la
gnitalit. L o la syzygie stupidit/subtilit conduit chez
Aristote une dynamique miraculeuse qui porte l'humeur sa
fine fleur, elle induit corollairement chez Montaigne une dynamiquenon moins extraordinaire, mais aussi monstrueuse qui la
renvoie la lie du corps. Et l o Aristote voit dans l'excessus
qui fait passer de la folie au gnie une limite ou un point de
crte, Montaigne peroit dans cet excessus la forme mme de
l'excs et le paroxysme de l'humeur. Pour Aristote, la mlancolie
tassienne et encore t un symbole d'une posie rdime; pour
Montaigne, elle n'en est plus que l'allgorie, une pure figuration
qui, comme telle, "dbouche sur le vide. Le mal qu'elle recle en
tant que permanente profondeur, n'existe qu'en elle"59. En
dfinitive, la ngation montaignienne n'tait qu'une dngation:
l'essayiste sait qu'il est lui-mme condamn se tenir indfiniment sur le "plat de la balance" (813 B) ou le peson (exagium,
examen) de l'essai, la russite consistant pour lui non s'lever
mais ne pas tomber, non (se) gagner mais ne pas (se) perdre. Mais cette exprimentation fascinante du vide, sur le seuil
de la chambre o la folie du Tasse saisit le voyeur, a toute
l'apparence d'une scne originelle: la raction instinctive qu'elle
suscite met au contact de la mystrieuse gnitalit l'uvre dans
le gnie.

59

W. Benjamin, Ursprung des deutschen Trauerspiels, trad. fr. 1985, p.

251. Vide de son contenu gnial, la Mlancolie est devenue une allgorie du
Monde, les signes symptomatiques construisant une taxonomie d'un rel sans substance et ne renvoyant qu' son propre nant classificatoire.

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261

Mlancolie et ivresse: le pre gnial

La dconstruction critique du Problme 30, 1 d'Aristote ne
se limite pas en effet la charge que l'"Apologie" mne contre
toute thologie "naturelle" ou, ce qui est la mme chose, contre
toute potique "gniale". Les deux derniers paragraphes de
l'essai "De l'Yvrongnerie" voquent aussi la thse aristotlicienne: et le rapport de cet excipit avec l'ensemble de l'Essai
permet de mieux comprendre pourquoi la perversion mlancolique, travers la rpugnance physique qu'elle inspire, fascine
Montaigne. La concidence qui fait se ctoyer dans l'Essai le vin
et la mlancolie n'a au demeurant rien du hasard de la marqueterie que Montaigne revendique souvent: toute l'argumentation du Problme 30, 1 ne repose-t-elle pas sur le paralllisme
entre excitabilit de la mlancolie et effervescence de l'ivresse?
Mais on a dj tout de suite not l'cart dont augure mal, ds le
titre, la graphie barbare et surcharge du mot: l'ivresse, et non
l'"yvrongnerie". Certes l'brit, Montaigne le sait, n'a rien en
soi de spcialement vicieux: "(A) Les vices sont tous pareils en
ce qu'ils sont tous vices" (339)60. Pourtant le problme pos
"nous autres" modernes que la dgnrescence condamne une
prudence relativiste et " qui le meilleur est toujours en vice",
n'est pas tant de "distinguer les biens et les maux", comme
pouvaient le faire les Anciens qui taient la vertu mme, mais
"de distinguer les vices", science "sans laquelle bien exacte le
vertueux et le meschant demeurent meslez et incongnus" (340 C).
Cette mise au point ajoute rtrospectivement en 1595 en tte de
l'Essai prfigure dj l'"tranglement" de la thse aristotlicienne
sur la mlancolie "gniale": l'"exactitude" consistant ne pas
"mler" ce qui dans tous les cas de figure est dj irrmdiablement vicieux, le balancement de la mlancoliecentral dans le
Problme 30, 1n'est plus qu'une fatalit tomber de mal en pis.
Que l'humeur qui nous rduit la folie maniaco-dpressive et
l'humeur qui nous pousse au gnie soient congnitalement de
mme nature, ne lgitime en aucun cas l'excs: celui-ci reste un

60
Socialement, l'brit est mme un vice "(A) moins malicieux et dommeagable" que d'autres (342).

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excs, et intrinsquement le passage la limite sera toujours une

transgression. C'est ce qu'enseigne pour l'instant l'exemple du
vin en attendant l'extrapolation de cette conclusion qui portera
sur le problme de la mlancolie: peut-on vraiment sparer
l'"yvresse" de l'"yvrognerie"61 ? Si le "pire estat de l'homme"
toutes choses tant par ailleurs comparables et relatives,"c'est
quand il pert la connoissance et gouvernement de soy", alors
"l'yvrongnerie, entre les autres [vices], semble un vice grossier et
brutal", et dans la mesure o il rabaisse l'homme l'animalit,
n'est susceptible d'aucun compromis: nul "esprit", nul "gnie" ne
saurait sortir de ce mal (Montaigne dsigne par un terme proche
d'origine aristocratique cette notion de "gnie qu'voquent les
traductions contemporaines du Problme aristotlicien: la
gnrosit): "L'esprit a plus de part ailleurs; et y a des vices qui ont je
ne say quoy de genereux, s'il le faut ainsi dire" (340 A).
Cette condamnation sans appel de l'"yvrognerie" tonne de
la part d'un "essayiste" accoutum plus de tolrance:
Montaigne s'implique directement ("me semble"), etchose
encore plus surprenante chez un crivain si port aux digressions,
aux allongeails et aux retournements de pensele thme (la
dnonciation de l'ivrognerie) se maintient avec obsession jusqu'
la fin de l'Essai. C'est que Montaigne, physiquement, ne "tolre"
pas l'ivrognerie: "Mon goust et ma complexion est plus ennemie
de ce vice que mon discours" (342), rpulsion d'autant plus justifie que, sous ses deux manifestations: maniaque et dpressive,
l'ivresse ne fait que mettre jour la lie de l'esprit. Provoque-telle l'euphorie? alors "(A) comme le moust bouillant pousse
mont tout ce qu'il y a dans le fond, aussi le vin faict desbonder les
plus intimes secrets ceux qui en ont pris outre mesure" (340).
Est-elle "(C) profonde, estouff, ensevelie" (341)? voici qu'elle
fait chuter dans l'abjection ainsi qu'il est arriv "ce Pausanias
(...) que l'on fit tant boire qu'il peust abandonner sa beaut,
insensiblement, comme le corps d'une putain buissonnire, aux
muletiers et nombre d'abjects serviteurs de sa maison"; ou pire
encore cette femme qui se dcouvre enceinte son insu parce
qu'"un jour de feste, ayant bien largement pris son vin, si
profondment endormie prs de son foyer, et si indecemment,

61

La graphie rapproche ici dangereusement les deux notions. Au

demeurant, Montaigne emploie rarement l'occurrence "yvresse", se contentant --quand il
n'emploie pas le terme d'"yvrongnerie" d'une priphrase ngative: "ce vice", etc...

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

263

un sien jeune valet de labourage s'en estoit peu servir sans

l'esveiller" (341-42 C). Et l encore un mot d'esprit se donne
comme une dngation radicale de toute vrit que l'on pourrait
imputer l'ivresse: "vieille et plaisante question11 que celle de
Socrate ou Lucrce ivres et comme "rendus insenss par un
breuvage amoureux", pire frapps d'une "Apoplexie" jusqu'
"oublier leur nom mme" (345 A)62. Bref, non seulement le sage
tomb dans l'animalit, maisscne encore une fois insoutenable
de ridiculele sage "survivant soy-mesme".
Montaigne imaginant plaisamment Socrate et Lucrce ivres,
n'est-ce pas un peu les enfants de No contemplant le corps de
leur pre que l'ivresse a mis nu "comme le corps d'une putain
buissonnire"? Ou surprenant "les plus intimes secrets" qu'elle
"desbonde"? On comprend alors la fonction du mot d'esprit dans
les Essais: il fait revoir humoristiquement la scne primitive et
parentale, il montre l'instance humorale de la procration, celle
du dsir aveugle qui a donn naissance l'auteur, mais qui du
mme coup lui rvle sa mortalit63. Que la dnonciation de
l'ivresse fonctionne bien comme la dngation de cette gnitalit
(ou gnialit "mortifre" comme il est dit du Tasse), le texte le
laisse lire entre les lignes: vice sans "gnrosit" puisqu'elle
expose la gense l'arbitraire, l'ivrognerie abolit toute conscience gnalogique comme le montre l'exemple de cette mre
enceinte son insu, risque terrifiant qui explique pourquoi
Platon interdisait au moins l'usage du vin "(B) celle nuict qu'on
destine faire des enfans" (345). Mais la dngation de
l'ivrognerie ne vise pas seulement conjurer la menace qui
rtrospectivement hypothque la naissance de l'auteur: ds les
premires lignes de l'essai, elle s'inscrit simultanment dans une
crise de l'"auctoritas" qui se charge de toute l'ambigut de la
parent gntique. Car si l'autorit rvle bien l'essayiste ce
qu'il ne saurait voir"(C) je n'eusse pas creu d'yvresse si
profonde, estoufe et ensevelie, si je n'eusse leu cecy dans les

62

Montaigne suit ici de trs prs le Problme 30, i, d'Aristote: l'"apoplexie" est
cause par "l'excs dans le corps de la bile noire" chez les mlancoliques
accidentels, d. Pigeaud, p. 95 et note 38.
63
Selon Freud, le Witz ralise le rve infantile qui est de "se retrouver en l'autre,
l'enfant", cit par C. Mauron, Psychocritique du genre comique, 1964, note 32.

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Olivier Pot

histoires", reconnat Montaigne propos de l'abjection de

Pausanias (341), on ne peut qu'opposer un dni formel cette
mme "antiquit" qui "n'a pas fort dcri ce vice" et qui mme
recommande l'occasion le vin pour "esveiller, picquer et les gar-der
de s'engloutir" "les forces du vieillard" (342 A)64, rvolte qui tonne
l'essayiste tout le premier, lui qui "captive aysment ses crances
soubs l'authorit des opinions anciennes" (342 A)65.
C'est que le dgot instinctif et congnital de Montaigne
(soulign par le zeugme: "Mon got et ma complexion est
ennemie de ce vice") n'est pas seulement de l'ordre accidentel de la
gntique ou de l'engendrement: travers l'hrdit, le
mouvement d'humeur de l'essayiste l'encontre de l'ivresse tire sa
lgitimit de la figure "gnreuse" du pre engendreur, homme
sobre s'il en tait. Telle est la signification de l'importante
addition de 1595: modle de toutes vertus, d'une "dcence" parfaite
en toute choses, d'une "monstrueuse foy en ses parolles", d'une
"conscience et religion (...) penchant [presque] vers la superstition",
d'une vigueur et d'une agilit physiques exceptionnelles pour un
homme de son ge et nanmoins d'une chastet toute preuve
("C'est merveille des comptes que j'ay ouy faire mon pere de la
chastet66 de son siecle. C'estoit lui d'en dire, estant tresadvenant, et
par art et par nature") (343-44 C), en somme ce pre "gnial" a
toutes les qualits qu'Aristote attribue au "mlancolique", mais
sans... les excs de la mlan-colie. Ou ce qui revient au mme il
possde toute la puissance de l'ivresse, mais... sans l'ivrognerie. Ce
n'est pas qu'aux temps de ce patriarche (biblique) on ne buvait jamais:
paradoxalement, "(C) les collations [taient] bien plus frequentes
et ordinaires

64

Mme si un "excellant mdecin de Paris, Sylvius" soutient cet avis (342 A) et

en dpit de Platon qui autorise l'usage du vin comme mdication aprs "quarante ans"
(345 C), ge prcisment o l'essayiste devient auteur.
65

Le scandale est en effet d'importance, puisque "(A) jusques aux Stoyciens, il

y en a qui conseillent de se dispenser quelque fois boire d'autant et de s'enyvrer pour
relacher l'ame" (342).
66
Le terme de chastet n'est pas prendre ici dans son acception moderne et
puritaine (refus de toute sexualit), mais dans le sens d'une matrise de la sexu-alit
propre garantir la "puret" et l'intgrit de la race (cf. les sens latins de castas que
Montaigne a traduit littralement: "pur, intgre, vertueux, honnte, fidle sa parole,
pieux, religieux").

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

265

qu' prsent". Mais aussi les constitutions taient alors plus

fortes, les estomacs plus "vigoureux": n'ayant rien d'un excitant, le vin
n'tait qu'un aliment comme les autres, et rendait naturel-lement et
normalement ivre. A l'inverse, notre "sobriet" d'aujourd'hui ne
fait que tmoigner que "(C) nous nous sommes beaucoup plus jettez
la paillardise que noz peres", elle qui "sert nous rendre plus coints,
plus damerets pour l'exercice de l'amour". Mmes causes, autres
effets: il est significatif que Montaigne associe, dans le portrait
idal du pre disparu, nostal-gie de l'ivresse "ordinaire" et
dgnrescence de la chastet. Car l'excs de l'"yvrongnerie" n'est que
le supplment d'une sexualit dfaillante, dplace de son lieu
originel et lgitime (la rgion moyenne du corps) vers le cerveau,
et transformant une titilla-tion authentique en une titubation
artificielle, et ce qui tait le seul vrai plaisir, en un plaisir
d'emprunt:
(A) Les incommoditez de la vieillesse, qui ont besoing de quelque
appuy et refrechissement pourroyent m'engendrer avecq raison desir de
cette facult: car c'est quasi le dernier plaisir que le cours des ans nous
drobe. La chaleur naturelle, disent les bons compagnons, se prent
premierement aux pieds: celle l touche l'enfance. De l elle monte la
moyenne region, o elle se plante long temps et y produit, selon moy, les
seuls vrais plaisirs de la vie corporelle: (C) les autres voluptez dorment
au pris. (A) Sur la fin, la mode d'une vapeur qui va montant et s'exhalant,
ell'arrive au gosier, o elle faict sa derniere pose"'.
(B) Je ne puis pourtant entendre comment on vienne allonger le plaisir
de boire outre la soif, et se forger en l'imagination un appetit artificiel et
contre nature. Mon estomac n'iroyt pas jusques l (...) Ma constitution est
ne faire cas du boire que pour la suitte du manger; et boy cette cause le
dernier coup quasi tousjours le plus grand (344).

Voici donc ce que Montaigne a hrit du pre: un "estomac" et une

"constitution" qui, loin de dgrader la "gnitalit" en une
"imagination artificielle et contre nature", rapatrie cette gnitalit
son lieu propre et chaste, "l o elle se plante et y produit les seuls
vrais plaisirs de la vie corporelle", l'ivresse n'tant plus alors une
dgnrescence de la sexualit mais une expression de sa vigueur,
ce "coup de l'trier" ("le dernier coup quasi tousjours le

67

Ce schma tripartite est celui du Problme 30, 1 identifiant le dplace-ment

des "vapeurs" mlancoliques qui montent au cerveau, celui des effluves du vin.

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Olivier Pot

plus grand") (344 B)68. Mais dans la mesure o elle est

hrditaire, la "gnitalit" ne peut tre, on le voit, que le "genius" du
pre, la sexualit paternelle. Car si le pre est "gnial", c'est dans la
mesure o sa gnrosit a engendr le fils, o son plaisir chaste
garantit l'authenticit et la lgitimit nobiliaires du fils. La menace
que rvlait travers la rpulsion instinctive qu'elle inspiraitla
scne voyeuriste de Sainte-Anne et qui affleurait plus
humoristiquement dans la "plaisante question" d'un Socrate ou d'un
Lucain apoplexiques se trouve ainsi efface, exorcise dis-tance:
l'vocation puissante du pre-modle, gnreux et toujours en
pleine vigueur, enlve la gense sexuelle ce qu'elle pourrait avoir
de dangereux, soit l'ala de la "bastardisse". Car si le Tasse (Socrate ou
Lucain dans la version plaisante) mconnat jusqu' son nom et
ses uvres vives, le pre de Montaigne transmet son fils la
certitude du nom et de la filiation que cautionne une identit de
complexion, de got et de nature (et si cette certitude pouvait
manquer, la prsence hrditaire en soi de la "pierre", au lieu
mme du gnital, fera sentir au besoin physiquement
l'authenticit de l'origine).
Mais il y a plus encore: la reconstitution d'une "scne primitive"
"heureuse"c'est--dire montrant la "bonne sexualit" du pren'a pas
seulement pour objectif de rassurer le fils sur sa gnalogie, elle se
veut en mme temps "scne originelle" de l'criture. Si le Tasse
appartient ces potes maniaques qui, selon l'Essai "De
l'Yvrongnerie", "(A) ne reconnoissent plus la trace par o ils ont pass
une si belle carrire" (jusqu' oublier l'origine de leur uvre)
(347), Montaigne n'a pas craindre cet oubli, car la voie lui est trace
par le journal du pre, prfiguration des Essais et garant de leur
authenticit. Car le pre ne fait pas que "compter" sa gnrosit ("C'est
merveille des comptes que j'ay ouy faire mon pre de la chastet de
son sicle"), il l'a au surplus consigne dans une uvre d'criture qui
rend compte "poinct par poinct" de ses (bonnes) uvres de chair:
(C) Et de soy juroit sainctement estre venu vierge son mariage; et si
avoit eu fort longue part aux guerres del les monts, desquelles il nous

68
Une des avances de la critique montaignienne dans ces dernires annes
est d'avoir mis en vidence ce rle de la "sexualit" chez Montaigne. Cf. Robert D.
Cottrell, Sexuality/Textuality: A Study of the Fabric of Montaigne's Essais, 1981.

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

267

a laiss, de sa main, un papier journal suyvant poinct par poinct ce qui s'y
passa, et pour le publiq et pour son priv (344).

Le pre est revenu indemne de l'Italie, il a pu produire les

"papiers journaux"69 : la relation scrupuleuse prouvera"poinct par
poinct"qu'il est sorti vierge de cette descente aux Enfers.
Ritrant l'exprience, le fils s'chappera son tour de la prison
italienne du Tasse: parti sur les traces du pre selon un itinraire
que dessine l'avance l'hrdit de la pierre sur la carte des "eaux
curatives"70, Montaigne veut-il se convaincre qu'il est aussi un crivain
gnreux, capable galement de produire une uvre authentique
dans la mesure o il a rsist la folie italienne et la
dgnrescence de ses origines, o il s'est souvenu de sa
franchise, de la France71? Il est en tous les cas sur-prenant que le
Voyage en Italie ne mentionne aucunement la visite la prison
du Tasse, mais bien celle au tombeau de

69

La seule autre occurrence du terme, dans les Essais, intervient l'incipit de

l'essai "Du Dmentir" o elle sert poser explicitement le statut de
l'autobiographie montaignienne: "(A) Voire mais on me dira que ce dessein de se servir
de soy pour subject escrire, seroit excusable des hommes rares et fameux (...)
Ainsi sont souhaiter les papiers journaux du grand Alexandre, les commentaires
qu'Auguste, Caton (...) et autres avoyent laiss de leurs gestes (...) Cette remonstrance
est tres-vraie, mais elle ne me touche que bien peu..." (663). Comme dans le cas du
pre-modle, la justification donne au dpart est d'ordre priv et familial: "(A) C'est (...)
pour en amuser un voisin, un parent, un amy, qui aura plaisir me racointer et
repratiquer en cett'image" (664).
70
Dans un allongeail de l'essai "De l'exprience", Montaigne nous dit qu'il tient un
"journal" de sa maladie ("une mmoire de papier", embryon des Essais), trouvant dans le
mystre de la "pierre" hrditaire son seul et authentique oracle: "(C) A faute de
memoire naturelle j'en forge de papier, et comme quelque nouveau symptome
survient mon mal, je l'escris (...) Feuilletant ces petits brevets descousus comme
des feuilles Sybillines, je ne faux plus de trouver o me consoler de quelque
prognostique favorable en mon experience passe" (1092).
71
Nous verrons plus loin comment la France -- zone climatiquement
tempre -- modlise l'quilibre "gnial" du temprament montaignien. Par ce geste
symbolique, Montaigne vise se librer de la domination de l'criture italienne
reprsente par le Tasse (le Journal de Voyage tait en grande partie rdig en
italien) l'image du pre pique qui, lors des guerres en Italie, n'a pas drog ses
origines (sa "franchise"), ce dont tmoigne son journal, prfiguration des Essais euxmmes o le fils perptue sur le plan de l'criture -- la gloire paternelle.

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l'Arioste Saint Benot72 : pour autant qu'elle fait retour une

gnalogie nationale, qu'elle se ddouane et s'affranchit travers la
franchise ancestrale des Francs (le "Roland furieux"), qu'elle
prsente ses fantaisies comme une jouissance, la folie de
l'Arioste provoquera toujours chez l'essayiste ces sensations
innocentes de "chatouillement" et cette chaste "gaillardise" analo-gues
au plaisir sexuel lui-mme comme le rappellera l'Essai "Sur des vers
de Virgile"73. Devant le "gnie" illgitime que le Tasse personnifie,
Montaigne s'est-il souvenu alors qu'il tait le Saint Michel (autre
avatar de Saint-Georges) terrassant le dragon dsormais enferm
sous la garde de sa victime, la vierge Sainte-Anne74? Quoi qu'il en
soit, l'criture des Essais natra, si l'on en croit l'essai "De l'Oysivet",
du mme rflexe paternel de pudeur (de "honte") suscit par
l'"estranget" des "chimeres et monstres fantasques" engendrs par une
imagination dsuvre:
(A) Dernierement que je me retiray chez moi (...): il me sembloit ne
pouvoir faire plus grande faveur mon esprit, que de le laisser en
pleine oysivet, s'entretenir soy mesmes, et s'arrester et rasseoir en
soy: ce que j'esperois qu'il peut meshuy faire plus aisment, devenu
avec le temps plus posant, et plus meur. Mais je trouve (...) que, au
rebours, faisant le cheval eschapp, il se donne cent fois plus d'affaires
soy mesmes, qu'il n'en prenoit pour autruy; et m'enfante tant de
chimeres et monstres fantasques les uns sur les autres, sans ordre, et
sans propos, que pour en contempler mon aise l'ineptie et
l'estranget, j'ay commanc de les mettre en rolle, esperant avec le
temps luy en faire honte luy mesmes (33).

Cet autre "rcit de gense" a t souvent comment75. Insistons

notre tour sur le renversement qu'il opre: Montaigne se retire

72
A la date du 16 novembre 1580 -- seule journe entire passe Ferrare
-, le Voyage en Italie voque cette visite et autres menus faits divers: mais rien
sur l'"autopsie" du Tasse, telle que la rapporte l'Essai ("j'ay veu"). La premire
dition de la Jrusalem dlivre avait pourtant paru en 1580, soit peu avant le passage de Montaigne Ferrare qui ne pouvait en consquence l'ignorer (un second
volume la compltera en 1581).
73
"(A) Cette vieille me pesante ne se laisse plus chatouiller non seulement
YArioste, mais encore au bon Ovide" (410). Sur ces deux auteurs de (bonne) fiction, voir F. Rigolot, Les Mtamorphoses de Montaigne, 1988.
74
"(B) Je porterais facilement au besoing une chandelle S. Michel, l'autre
son serpent, suivant le dessein de la vieille. Je suivray le bon party, mais jusques
au feu exclusivement si je puis" (792).
75

Starobinski, Montaigne en mouvement, pp. 34-35.

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

269

dans l'intention de "rasseoir en soy" son esprit. Mais tel un

"cheval" qui "eschappe" son cavalier76, celui-ci s'emballe fond perdu
dans ses propres productions77, autonomie gntique qui s'absorbe
dans sa cration ("il se donne plus d'affaires qu'il n'en prenoit pour
autruy") et enlve au moi toute autorit paternelle ("m'enfante").
C'est seulement avec l'criture que l'essayiste reprendra alors
l'initiative des fantasmes ("J'ay commanc...") restaurant une censure
("luy en faire honte luy mesmes") sur le mode du "papier journal"
("mettre en rolle") qui avait servi au pre consigner son odysse
italienne. La mtaphore de la "parturition" n'a d'ailleurs ici rien
d'accidentel: le dbut du mme Essai nous avait prvenu que la
"generation bonne et naturelle" ncessite l'"embesoignement d'une
autre semence" (en l'occurrence celle du pre) qui informera l'criture.
(A) Comme nous voyons des terres oysives, si elles sont grasses et
fertilles, foisonner en cent mille sortes d'herbes sauvages et inutiles, et
que, pour les tenir en office, il les fauct assubjectir et employer
certaines semences, pour nostre service; et comme nous voyons que
les femmes produisent bien toutes seules, des amas et pieces informes,
mais que pour faire une generation bonne et naturelle, il les faut
embesoigner d'une autre semence: ainsi est-il des espris. Si on ne les
occupe certain sujet, qui les bride et contreigne, ils se jettent desreiglez, par-cy par l, dans le vague champ des imaginations (32).

"Embesoigner d'une autre semence": on sait combien est

ancienne la tradition qui fait de l'criture"kharakter", "tupos", ce que le
vocabulaire technique dsigne mtaphoriquement comme "matrice"78
un analogon de l'insmination de la femme par l'homme. Mais ce
n'est pas le plus intressant: tout le passage s'agence aussi pour
suggrer que l'"uterus" ne saurait donner qu'un enfant "hystrique"
(les "monstrueuses fantaisies") tant que Montaignescripteur
s'identifiant au pre et rptant l'acte lgitime du Journaln'est pas
venu l'ensemencer de la part d'un Autre (se souvenant peut-tre que
cet acte est aussi celui qui atteste de sa propre naissance
lgitime, Montaigne ajoutait immdiatementet comme en
conclusionaprs la rfrence au

76

L'image du cheval et du cavalier pour dsigner le corps et l'me est

traditionnelle depuis Platon: mais significativement c'est l'esprit qui, chez
Montaigne, fait le cheval.
77
Car, "(A) l'ame qui n'a point de but estably, elle se perd" (32).
78

Nicole Loraux, Les Mnes en deuil, 1990, p. 110.

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"registre" paternel dans "De l'Yvrognerie": "Aussi se maria-il bien

avant en aage, l'an 1528qui estoit son trente-troisiesme
retournant d'Italie") (344)79. "Trace" et "sillon" qui laboure le lieu
fantasmatique de la naissance et le "vague champ des imaginations"
(32 A), l'criture n'est plus alors "cet embesoig-nement oisif80 de la
mlancolie condamne rester toujours "lache et assopie" (246),
"croupie et endormie" (891), mais biengrce la "semence
autre" qui donne forme "ces amas et pices informes""une
generation bonne et naturelle". Rsumons encore une fois la gageure
des Essais: digne fils de son pre, Montaigne veut se placer
comme lui l'origine de ses imagina-tions, en "controller" la
gnalogie, non en gniteur accidentel, mais en ascendant lgitime.
L'incipit "De la ressemblance des enfans aux pres"81 voque
nouveau ce passage de la gense passive la gnration active:
(A) Ce fagotage de tant de diverses pieces se faict en cette condition,
que je n'y mets la main que lors qu'une trop lasche oisivet me presse,
et non ailleurs que chez moi. Ainsin il s'est basty diverses poses et
intervalles, comme les occasions me detiennent ailleurs par fois
plusieurs moys. Au demeurant, je ne corrige point mes premieres
imaginations par les secondes; (C) ouy l'aventure quelque mot, mais
pour diversifier, non pour oster. (A) Je veuz representer le progrez de
mes humeurs, et qu'on voye chaque pice en sa naissance (758).

L'Essai nat d'abord de lui-mme, sans l'intervention de l'auteur qui

ne prend aucune part au processus (d'o la tournure pronominale
passive: "Ce fagotage... se fait", "il s'est basti"), au sein d'"une trop
lasche oisivet", et selon "les occasions". Inter-

79
Cette clause anoblit non seulement la naissance de Montaigne, mais aussi
celle des Essais: en souvenir, la retraite de Montaigne qui prlude la rdaction
des Essais, concide symboliquement avec cet anniversaire ("L'an du Christ 1571,
l'ge de trente huit ans, la veille des calendes de mars, anniversaire de sa naissance, Michel de Montaigne (...) consacre ces douces retraites paternelles sa
libert, sa tranquillit, ses loisirs") (XXI).
80
"(B) Il y devroit avoir quelque corction des loix contre les escrivains
ineptes et inutiles, comme il y en a contre les vagabonds et faineants (...)
L'escrivaillerie semble estre quelque simptome d'un siecle desbord (...) cet
embesoingnement oisif naist de ce que chacun se prent lachement l'office de sa
vacation, (...) desquels je suis" (946).
81
Cet essai qui clt significativement la premire livraison des Essais (II,
37) a toujours bnfici de la faveur de la critique en raison du paralllisme qu'il
tablit entre gnalogie "auctoriale" et gnalogie physique.

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271

vient alors la volont d'un sujet qui se resitue la naissance du

discours, qui reprend l'initiative sur l'enfantement du texte dans la
mise en "rolle": "Je veuz representer le progrez de mes
humeurs... chaque pice en sa naissance". La scne de l'criture
rejoue ("representer") la scne originelle de la naissance ("en sa
naissance") mais cette fois dans la perspective d'une continuit
gnalogique ("progrez") o la "pierre", reue la naissance et
tmoignage de l'hrdit paternelle, en appelle la construction ("se
bastir")82 de la demeure familiale, le "btiment" des Essais relayant
ici l'achvement du chteau familial pour lequel Montaigne se
sent peu de prdisposition83.
L encore, il convient de relire attentivement la fin de
"l'Institution" o Montaigne relate l'chec de l'ducation
paternelle, chec d'ailleurs relatif puisque cet Essai a pour source et
modle le traitprogrammatique mais jamais critde
Buchanan qui a eu la premire ide d'"escrire de l'institution des enfans
[en] pren[ant] exemplaire de la mienne" (174 A). C'est en effet un
champ strile dont le pre ne peut rien "tirer" que Montaigne
compare son indolence naturelle:
(A) Deux choses en furent cause: le champ sterile et incommode; car
quoy que j'eusse la sant ferme et entiere, et quant et quant un naturel
doux et traitable, j'estois parmi cela si poisant, mol et endormi, qu'on
ne me pouvoit arracher de l'oisivet, non pas pour me faire jouer. Ce
que je voyois, je le voyois bien, et soubs cette complexion lourde,
nourrissois des imaginations hardies et des opinions au-dessus de mon
aage. L'esprit je l'avois lent, et qui n'allois qu'autant qu'on le menoit;
l'apprehension, tardive; l'invention, lasche; et apres tout, un incroiable
defaut de memoire. De tout cela il n'est pas merveille s'il ne sceut
rien tirer qui vaille (174).

82
La mme formule dsigne en effet les progrs de la gravelle: "cette
matiere gluante de laquelle se bastit la grave et la pierre" (775 A); "matire
bastir la pierre en la vessie" (775 A).
83
Ce rapprochement entre la "pierre" et l'"rection" du domaine des
Montaigne a t longuement dvelopp par A. Compagnon, Nous, Michel de
Montaigne, 1980. Ajoutons dans notre perspective que, en lui permettant de se
diffrencier du pre tout en maintenant la spcificit gnalogique, la "pierre" des
Essais remplit l'gard de Michel la mme fonction de substitut symbolique que
la pierre offerte par Rha joue, dans le mythe, l'gard des "enfants de Saturne"
qu'elle protge contre le pre dvorateur. Dvoration qui exemplifie la confusion
et le conflit dangereux des gnrations: "Les Carthaginois immoloient leurs
propres enfans Saturne" (521 B).

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Olivier Pot

L'criture de l'Essai viendra en somme refaire symboliquement cette

scne primitive de l'ducation manque, restaurant ainsi
rtrospectivement le lien gnalogique avec la figure du pre
"btisseur". Mais la condition que cet "embesoignement" soit le fait
d'une activit volontaire et personnelle: "embesoigner mon
jugement, non ma memoyre" (819 C)84. C'est que le livre alors
s'embesognera de lui-mme, l'esprit s'ensemenant de sa propre
semence comme le montre l'exemple d'Epicure qui, "mourant
tourment des extrmes douleurs de la colique", faisait plus de cas "de
la production de ses riches escrits" que "d'enfants bien ns et bien
levs" (401 A)85.
Melancholia voluptuosa
"Mais revenons nos bouteilles". La parenthse que constitue l'vocation du pre "gnial" conduit en ralit une criti-que
du Problme 30, 1 vers la fin de l'essai "De l'Yvrongnerie", comme
le rcit de la visite au Tasse dbouchera, nous le verrons bientt en
revenant l'"Apologie", sur une condamnation de la thse
aristotlicienne du "gnie mlancolique": paralllisme des deux
stratgies de renversement qui confirme au demeurant
l'antagonisme tabli plus haut entre les figures du Tasse et du pre
de l'essayiste. Ce n'est pas un hasard en effet si la rpulsion l'gard
de l'"yvrongnerie" rejoint, l'extrme fin de notre Essai, une
rpugnance identique attribuer la mlancolie une valeur autre que
gnalogique. Excitation qui dgnre, qui carte de la gnalogie,
la "manie gniale" comme l'ivresse (c'est le mme phnomne
humoral) est dpourvue de cette "gnrosit" qu'Aristote voudrait
lui attribuer. Qu'il s'agisse de Torquatus ou de Brutus qui n'hsitent pas
"tuer leurs enfants" par "vertu" civi-

84
Comme le rvle la Concordance, le verbe "embesoigner" est toujours
ngatif dans les Essais, sauf lorsqu'il est "rflchi" (par exemple 1021 B o
Montaigne se dit "prpar s'embesoigner plus rudement").
85
G. Mathieu-Castellani, Montaigne. L'criture de l'essai, 1988, ("L'criture
de la folie", p. 25), a bien montr comment l'"embesoignement" virait
imperceptiblement chez Montaigne une oisivet auto-productive. Notons au
surplus que la "colique" d'Epicure n'est pas sans rappeler l'hritage paternel de la
pierre (qualifi souvent de "colique" dans les Essais) qui fonctionne, dans le cadre
de cette autonomie de l'criture, comme une rsurgence de la censure du pre
remplissant le rle d'un garde-fou.

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273

que (mais dj on "est entr en doute... si ces personnages

n'avoient pas est plustost agitez par quelque autre passion") (346
A); qu'il s'agisse de ces Stociens qui pratiquent la maxime radicale
d'Antisthte: "J'aime mieux estre furieux que volup-tueux" (347
C); qu'il s'agisse encore de l'hrosme des Martyrs chrtiens chez
qui se manifeste "quelque alteration et quelque fureur, tant sainte
soit-elle"; qu'il s'agisse enfinlast but not leastdes potes qui
"sont espris souvent d'admiration de leurs propres ouvrages et ne
reconnoissoient plus la trace par o ils ont pass une si belle
carriere. C'est ce qu'on appelle aussi en eux ardeur et manie" (347
A); dans tous les cas, c'est bien d'une folie irrductible dont il est
question la vrit, d'une dbauche outrancire que rien ne saurait
racheter ni lgitimer. Montaigne peut bien s'amuser alors rappeler
le Problme 30, 1: par une singulire distorsion du texte, l'argument
se retourne contre lui-mme. "Aucune ame est exempte de folie": il
n'est pas possible de dire mieux car, pris au mot, "tout eslancement,
tant louable soit-il, qui surpasse notre jugement" est littralement une
"folie". A moins de changer le sens des dfinitions (ce qui
quivaudrait dtruire non seulement la philosophie mais le langage
lui-mme), la dmesure ne peut signifier proprement que la
dmesure, et la sagesse que ce qu'on entend par sagesse:
(A) Et comme Platon dict que pour neant hurte la porte de la posie
un homme rassis, aussi dict Aristote que aucune ame excellente n'est
exempte de meslange de folie. Et a raison d'appeler folie tout eslancement, tant louable soit-il, qui surpasse nostre propre jugement et
discours. D'autant que la sagesse c'est un maniment regl de nostre
ame, et qu'elle conduit avec mesure et proportion, et s'en respond
(348).

Apparemment le paragraphe ajout aprs 1588 comme excipit

l'Essai donnerait l'illusion que Montaigne se rallie l'analyse
positive de la mlancolie. Les symptmes de la fureur prophti-que
semblent en effet chelonns pour conduire graduellement, sans
rupture, du moins au plus: sommeil, maladie ou ravisse ment
cleste.
(C) Platon argumente ainsi, que la facult de prophetizer est audessus de nous; qu'il nous faut estre hors de nous quand nous la traittons: il faut que nostre prudence soit offusque ou par le sommeil ou
par quelque maladie, ou enleve de sa place par un ravissement
cleste (348).

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Olivier Pot

En ralit, le diagnostic discriminatoireindispensable dans

l'valuation de la "mlancolie prophtique"joue ici contre-sens.
Notons d'abord que Montaigne ne se rfre pas directe-ment au
Problme 30, 1, mais son traitement no-platonicien: absence
significative que nous interprtons plus loin, la "mlan-colie" est
omise de l'chelle des diverses vacationes animi (au nombre de
sept) dont elle constituait pourtant, chez Ficin l'articulation
mdiante et stratgique86. Que la formule "par quelque maladie"
semble compenser cette omission, voil qui en dit long au demeurant
sur le geste dmystificateur qui se cache derrire cette orthodoxie
trompeuse. Certes le dernier mot revient bien, conformment
la Thologie platonicienne, au "ravissement cleste" comme si la
folie trouvait son point d'orgue dans la divinit. Mais il en va ici des
prophtes comme plus haut des martyrs dont l'acharnement mourir
tmoigne de "quelque alteration et quelque fureur, tant sainte soit
elle", ou encore des mlancoliques gniaux dont la folie "tant
loable soit-elle" reste encore folie: l'envol final apparat davantage
une restriction ou une concession prudente l'inexplicable qu'un
pilogue positif. L o Aristote (revisit par Platon) disait que
les prophtes rvlent des vrits suprieures grce la mlancolie,
Montaigne corrige: les mlancoliques demeurent des fous, en
dpit de la saintet qu'on leur attribue. Chez le philosophe grec,
l'excellence des hommes de gnies n'tait pas mise en doute: le
problme qui tait pos tait simplement d'expliquer pourquoi ils
sont souvent des mlancoliques. Montaigne dplace ce clivage
aristotlicien entre folie et gnie87 : le doute passe maintenant
l'intrieur de la saintet (ou de la fureur prophtique) dont
l'attribution devient problmatique, et qu'on laisse sous-entendre n'tre
peut-tre qu'une affaire de dnomination. Une chose est de dire:
"il n'y a pas de saintet sans fureur"; une autre

86

Voir mon Inspiration et Mlancolie, op. cit., p. 37.

Il suffit de comparer avec la version ficinienne du Problme 30, 1:
"Aristote corrobore ce point: tous les hommes, dit-il, qui ont excell en quelque
domaine, taient des mlancoliques. En l'occurrence, Aristote a confirm une
clbre formule du dialogue de la Science de Platon, selon laquelle les hommes de
gnie sont habituellement emports et hors d'eux-mmes. Dmocrite l'affirme
aussi: il ne saurait y avoir de gnies que parmi les hommes atteints de quelque
fureur" (Pigeaud, op. cit., pp. 61-62.
87

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

275

d'affirmer qu'"il y a fureur quoiqu'il y ait saintet". La clausule

restrictive qui achve "De l'Yvrongnerie" se veut donc en
dfinitivecomme souvent dans les Essaismoins une clture qui
arrime le sens, qu'une ouvertureou plutt fracture qui fait
rebondir, avec un pied de nez, la solution vers une nouvelle interrogation. Remarquons la pirouette ironique qui instaure un cer-cle
vicieux: pour "traitter" de "la facult de prophetizer", il nous "faut
estre" dj "hors de nous", comme si l'explication devenait ce qu'il
fallait expliquer. Aussi la rfrence Dieu qui sert de butoir
l'Essai a-t-elle la mme fonction que dans la plupart des excipits
montaigniens88 : l'image de l'infinitude divine invoque pour dire que
l'Essai ne peut pas finir renvoie la question de dcider si le saint
est fou ou non... la grce de Dieu et son dessein insondable.
In cauda venenum. La clause finale de l'Essai a toute l'apparence
d'une "chute", au sens propre comme au sens figur: chute due
l'attraction de la mlancolie vers son lment terrestre; ou pointe
d'esprit qui creuse, vide le sens, et vient ainsi ultimement, en bout
de course, faire de l'analogie manie/gnie une figure de style, une
mtaphore. Voici une fois de plus le Problme 30, 1 rduit un
brillant concetto, un beau jeu de mots.
Ce qui, certes, n'tait de loin pas l'intention d'Aristote89... Nous l'avions
annonc: la fin de 1'"Apologie" Montaigne ritre sa condamnation
du Problme 30,1 dj esquisse avec la visite au Tasse. Une
longue variante de 1595 affine la stratgie mise en uvre
paralllement dans "De l'Yvrongnerie":
(C) N'y a il point de la hardiesse la philosophie d'estimer des
hommes qu'ilz produisent leurs plus grands effects et plus approchans
de la divinit, quand ils sont hors d'eux et furieux et insensez? Nous
nous amendons par la privation de nostre raison et son assoupissement. Les deux voies pour entrer au cabinet des Dieux et y preveoir
le cours des destines sont la fureur et le sommeil. Cecy est plaisant
considrer: par la dislocation que les passions apportent nostre
raison, nous devenons vertueux; par son extirpation que la fureur ou

88

Cf. F. Rigolot, op. cit., "Dfi la Rhtorique: sorties de matire", pp.

131-149.
89
Non que toutefois cette mtaphorisation n'ait rien voir avec le
processus cyclothymique de la mlancolie: comme nous l'avons dit, la pointe o
s'quilibrent apathie et excitation humorales est bien en dfinitive le fondement
psychomcanique de la mtaphore ou concetto.

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Olivier Pot
l'image de la mort apporte, nous devenons prophetes et divins. Jamais
plus volontiers je ne l'en creus. C'est un pur enthousiasme que la
sancte verit a inspir en l'esprit philosophique, qui luy arrache, contre sa proposition, que l'estat tranquille de nostre ame, l'estat rassis,
l'estat plus sain que la philosophie luy puisse acquerir n'est pas son
meilleur estat (...) La pire place que vous puissions prendre, c'est en
nous. Mais pense elle pas que nous ayons Tadvisement de remarquer
que la voix qui faict l'esprit, quand elle est despris de l'homme, si clairvoyant, si grand, si parfaict et, pendant qu'il est en l'homme, si terrestre, ignorant et tenebreux, c'est une voix partant de l'esprit qui est
partie de l'homme terrestre, ignorant et tenebreux, et cette cause
voix infiable et incroyable (568)?

On excusera la longueur de la citation en raison des glissements

smantiques qui s'y marquent subtilement. Montaigne retourne et
dtourne la thse plutt claire d'Aristote ("l'homme suprieur est un
mlancolique") jusqu' la compliquer et lui donner un tour
"concettiste", en faire un "concetto" ("Cecy est plaisant
considrer"). Prise son propre jeu, elle-mme hardie et
"inspire" par sa propre contradiction sur le jeu du gnie et de la folie
("C'est un pur enthousiasme que la saincte verit a inspir en l'esprit
philosophique..."), la philosophie atteint la vrit de la "fureur" son
insu, en se prenant elle-mme contre-pied et en gauchissant son
propre projet qu'elle fait dvier de son intention premire ("contre sa
proposition"): en accordant la sagesse l'homme "extatique" (c'est le
sens d'"extirpation" qui reprend les autres expressions: "hors d'eux et
furieux et insensez", "la pire place que nous puissions prendre, c'est
en nous"), le philosophe se renie lui-mme, retrouvant du mme
coup non un sens mtaphysique ("au cabinet des Dieux"), mais le
geste humoral qui prside la gense vritable de son discours. En
somme, la philosophie est "un gai savoir": elle "tombe" juste dans la
mesure o elle accepte de "danser", d'tre "un pur enthousiasme" qui
est la forme mme, phnomnologique, de l'tre. Le discours
philosophique relve du trait d'esprit, de l'humour et de
l'enjouement spirituel: quand il parle vrai, le philosophe est un
concettiste, un amoureux de la mtaphore. Ce que Montaigne
retient de positif dans la thse folie/inspiration, ce n'est donc pas le
contenu de cette thse ni sa solution improbable: la "justesse" qu'il
lui attribue porte moins sur la vrit ou la fausset du dis-cours luimme, que sur la pertinence de la rflexion qui, for-mulant sa
propre aporie, "manifeste" la vrit comme mise en

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277

"abyme" de sa structure nonciative puisqu'elle produit un con-cetto

pour que "nous ayons l'advisement de remarquer" qu'il s'agit bien
l d'un concetto, d'une pense qui parle son origine et exprime sa
propre gense. "La voix qui fait l'esprit parfaict (...), c'est une voix
partant de l'esprit qui est partie de l'homme ter-restre..." Le
syllogisme du Problme 30, 1 (les inspirs sont des furieux)
comporte alors pour le moins une vrit, savoir que la pense
brillante existe de sa propre dmarche alogique, qu'elle est une
pense "oblique", la seule saisir la vrit comme "dbo-tement",
dhiscence ou "lapsus", qu'elle est en somme, selon l'expression
de Tesauro pour dsigner la figure baroque, un "argument
mtaphorique".
Le supplment que dgage la mlancolie ne s'origine donc pas,
pour Montaigne, dans le rapt du divin, mais seulement dans le
ravissement du mot d'esprit, glissement ou lapsus par lequel
"l'esprit qui est partie de l'homme terrestre" devient "spirituel", o
l'humeur se fait humour, et le principe gntique engendre
l'enjouement ou la gnrosit du concetto. D'o maintenant un
dernier retour et retournement tout--fait inattendu du Problme 30, 1.
Car si la thse platonicienne est inacceptable pour Montaigne
parce qu'elle nie la part de dsir qui entre dans l'activit de l'esprit
(la relecture montaignienne de la Thologie platonicienne excluait
dlibrment la mlancolie, on l'a vu, de la srie des vacationes
animae), il n'en va pas de mme de l'explication aristotlicienne
qui dcle dans le gnie (virt) l'ombre porte des "passions"90.
(A) Les secousses et esbranlemens que nostre ame reoit par les passions corporelles, peuvent beaucoup en elle (...) (C) Suivant le parti
des Peripateticiens91 (...) (A) la pluspart des plus belles actions de
l'ame procedent et ont besoin de cette impulsion des passions (...) (A)
Aucune eminente et gaillarde vertu en fin n 'est sans quelque agitation
desregle (...) par le moyen des passions, qui sont comme des
piqueures et sollicitations acheminant l'ame aux actions vertueuses
(567).

90

Voir John C. Lapp, "A Prose Poem: Montaigne's Mother Virtue", in O un

Amy! Essays on Montaigne..., 1977, pp. 172-189.
91
Cette rfrence tardive aux "pripatticiens" annonce une plus juste comprhension du Problme 30, 1, comme l'indique la formule cette fois traduite
littralement: "aucune eminente et gaillarde vertu n'est sans quelque agitation desreigle".

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Olivier Pot

La dconstruction subtile du Problme 30, 1 n'aboutissait donc pas

ncessairement, chez Montaigne, une condamnation de la
mlancolie: si elle pointe la structure humoristique (mtaphori-que)
de toute pense, l'humeur laisse encore sa chancecomme le
voulait Aristote une option constructiviste et immanente de la
vrit. Aussi, dans la perspective de l'"Apologie" insistant,
l'encontre de la "thologie naturelle"92 de Sebond, sur la coupure
radicale entre immanence et transcendance, la mlancolie
continue-t-elle jouer tout au long de l'essai un rle stratgique dans
la mesure o le concept d'humour labor partir de
l'humoralisme exemplifie les modalits indpassables de toute
pense, o il signe et marque l'gal de la mtaphore baroque
elle-mmel'cart imaginaire et asymptotique sparant l'esprit de sa
propre vrit. C'est pourquoi la mlancolie funeste du Tasse est
peine rejete que Montaigne rintroduit paradoxale-ment deux
anecdotes empruntes la symptomatologie traditionnelle, mais
donnes cette fois comme exemples d'une "bonne mlancolie":
(A) Lycas s'estoit, par quelque alteration de sens, imprim en la
fantasie une resverie: c'est qu'il pensoit estre perptuellement aux
thtre y voir des passetemps, des spectacles et des plus belles comedies du monde. Guery qu'il fust par les medecins de cette humeur
peccante, peine qu'il ne les mit en proces pour le restablir en la
douceur de ces imaginations.
(A) Thrasilaus, fils de Pythodorus, [...] se faisoit croire que tous les
navires qui relaschoient du port de Pyre et y abordoient, ne travailloient que pour son service: se resjouyssant de la bonne fortune de
leur navigation, les recueillant avec joye. Son frere Crito l'ayant faict
remettre en son meilleur sens, il regrettoit cette sorte de condition en
laquelle il avoit vescu plein de liesse et descharg de tout desplaisir
(495).

"Il se trouveroit plusieurs philosophes de l'advis" de ces deux

mlancoliques heureux, commente Montaigne: n'est-ce pas l
reconnatre, en-de d'une mlancolie visant la transcendance
("Ces humeurs transcendentes m'effrayent") (1115 C), l'existence d'une
"mlancolie philosophique" (un "gai savoir", version cor-rige et
amliore de la "docta ignorantia") qui rconcilie l'ordre de la pense
et l'ordre des choses? "Ayant au demeurant ses

92
Structurellement, cette "thologie naturelle" est l'quivalent de la
"mlancolie naturelle" ou "gniale", "quand les mlancoliques deviennent inspirs
non par maladie mais pas un mlange naturel", comme dit le Problme 30,1.

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

279

meurs bien rgles, vivant doucement et paisiblement en sa

famille, ne manquant nul office de son devoir envers les siens et
estrangiers, se conservant tresbien des choses nuisibles"93, le
mlancolique Lycas dcouvre dans l'imagination qui renonce au
surnaturel, le lieu d'une jouissance qui vaut bien une possession. En
somme, la "bonne mlancolie" n'est plus celle qui chez Aristote
discriminait la folie accidentelle et la folie naturellement "gniale",
mais la "melancholia voluptuosa" (la "folie douce")94 qui, pour avoir
accept sa singularit idiosyncrasique et jou pleinement le
partage entre ralit et imaginaire, dcouvre dans le plaisir subjectif
le mode le plus universel de la prsence au monde, de la
"communication l'estre" (601 A).
C'est aussi la signification qu'introduit un allongeail corrigeant les conclusions inspires par la visite au Tasse. Rfutant
l'objection selon laquelle "(A) la commodit d'avoir le goust froid et
mousse aux douleurs et aux maux, tire aprs soy cette
incommodit de nous rendre aussi, par consquent, moins aiguz et
frians la jouissance des biens et des plaisirs" (492),
Montaigne, encore sous le coup du spectacle dsastreux offert par
le pote italien, avait d'abord affirm "(A) que, si la simplesse
nous achemine point n'avoir de mal, elle nous achemine un
tres-heureux estat selon nostre condition" (493). En 1588, l'essayiste
refusera cette rduction d'Eros Thanatos, et niera que le plaisir soit
la "petite mort"95 du dsir:
(C) Si ne la [la simplesse ou l'indolence] faut-il point imaginer si
plombe, qu'elle soit du tout sans goust. Car Crantor avoit bien
raison de combattre l'indolence d'Epicurus, si on la batissoit si
profonde que l'abort mesme et la naissance des maux en fut dire (...)
Je suis content de n'estre pas malade; mais, si je le suis, je veux savoir
que je le suis; et si on me cauterise ou incise, je le veux sentir. De

93

La potique de Ronsard revendiquait dj cette "part du feu": "Melancholique, triste, au reste docte, prudent et sage" (Laumonier, 15, 25-26).
94
C'est le sens de la rfrence Horace rappele par Montaigne propos
du mlancolique maudissant sa gurison ('extorta voluptas, Et demptus per vim
mentis gratissimus error") (495).
95
Selon le mot de Starobinski {op. cit., p. 233) propos du passage: "(A)
Cette volupt active, mouvante (...), ne vise qu' l'indolence comme son but.
L'apptit qui nous ravit l'accointance des femmes, il ne cherche qu' chasser la
peine que nous apporte le dsir ardent et furieux, et ne demande qu' l'assouvir et
se loger en repos et en l'exemption de cette fievre" (493).

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Olivier Pot
vray, qui desracineroit la cognoissance du mal, il extirperait quand et
quand la cognoissance de la volupt, et en fin anantirait l'homme (...)
Le mal est l'homme bien son tour. Ny la douleur ne luy est tousjours fur, ny la volupt tousjours suivre (493).

Si la "vivacit" peut tre "meurtrire", comme il est dit de la folie du

Tasse, l'"indolence" coupe aussi de l'instance gntique ("abort",
"naissance") qui permet "la cognoissance de la volupt", et "en fin
anantirait l'homme" en le rendant insensible. "Tourniquet" du concetto
(" son tour") entre "mal" et "bien" qui instruit une intelligibilit et une
volont du sentiment: "Je le veux sentir". C'est dans cette distorsion
(ou anamorphose) humoristique o l'excitation prend contre-pied
(et par ironie) la constitution native que le "moi" se peroit en effet
par contre-coup natre et se possde: c'est au moment o il se perd
de vue qu'il se trouve. Ainsi justement parce qu'il est peu sujet, par
sa mlancolie, aux excitations et qu'il "n'a point grande experience de
ces agitations vehementes (estant d'une complexion molle et
poisante) qui ne laissent pas l'me loisir de se reconnoitre" (568
A), Montaigne peut penser le progrs de ses humeurs fantaisistes, la
fois "tout voyant et vivant":
(A) Je la [la passion] sentois, naistre, croistre, et s'augmenter en despit
de ma resistance, et en fin, tout voyant et vivant, me sentir et posseder
de faon que, comme d'une yvresse, l'image des choses me commenoit paraistre autre que de coustume, (...) ma conscience se tirer
en arriere (...); mais, ce feu s'estant evapor, tout un instant, comme
de la clart d'un esclair, mon ame reprendre une autre sorte de veu...
(B) Autant que je m'estois jett en avant, je me relance d'autant en
arriere (569).

La fulguration de la conscience ("clart d'un esclair") fait en

somme entrevoir la scne originelle, revivre l'instant gntique qui a
donn naissance au Moi: "Je la sentois, naistre, croistre, et
s'augmenter..." Dans cette dchirure ou retournement ("tout un
instant"), le moment de la dpression et du reflux mlancoli-que ("ce
feu s'estant vapor") fait accder la pulsion gntique la pointe de la
conscience, le moi se peroit humoristiquement dans un clairage
biais qui le rconcilie avec le plaisir d'tre, clairage qui est aussi
celui du mot d'esprit. "Comme de la clart d'un esclair": chez les
thoriciens baroques, la comparaison dsigne, on le sait, la
flagrance de la mtaphore ou du concetto qui surgit de la rencontre
fortuitemais gratifianted'lments contraires. Elle rappelle aussi
que pour Montaigne, le soleil est

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281

la mtaphore de la mtaphore, cet universel de l'immanence

clate dont "on dict que la lumire (...) n'est pas d'une pice
continu (...) ainsin eslance nostre ame ses pointes diversement et
imperceptiblement" (235 A)96, et en qui l'essayiste, citant
Ronsard, voit "parmy la cecit universelle" la meilleure illustra-tion
de la divinit97. Soleil qui est tout aussi matriellement la "bonne
concience" (la "scintilla divinitatis") cense "natre" et se "former" au
centre des humeurs elles-mmes comme prsence immanente de la
vrit selon la dfinition scolastique de la "synderesis":
(C) J'aime certaine image de preud'homie scholastique (...) qui se
sente de quoy se soustenir sans aide, ne en nous de ses propres
racines par la semence de la raison universelle empreinte en tout
homme non desnatur (...) (1059).

Faut-il alors conclure que la "melancholia voluptuosa" (vraie

dnomination pour Montaigne de la "mlancolie gniale" du
Problme 30,1) est en fin de compte la conscience elle-mme
dans la mesure o le sentiment (du) gntique ("ne en nous de ses
propres racine par la semence") concide avec la ralit toujours
naissante du monde98? Qu'une synesthsie profon-dment
prouve fait autant en dfinitive que la synderesis? Notons du
moins que la fulgurance de l'"esclair" dsigne gale-ment le passage
subit (analogue au renversement cyclothymique de la mlancolie) de
la douleur la jouissance lors de l'expulsion de la "pierre", pierre qui
localise, nous l'avons dit, la naissance et l'hrdit de Montaigne:
(B) Mais est-il rien doux au pris de cette soubdaine mutation, quand
d'une douleur extreme je viens la vuidange de ma pierre, recouvrer

96

"Car chaque chose a plusieurs biais et plusieurs lustres" (235 A).

"De celles [divinits] ausquelles on a donn corps, comme la ncessit l'a
requis, parmy cette cecit universelle, je me fusse, ce me semble, plus volontiers
attach ceux qui adoroient le soleil" (suit le clbre "hymne au soleil" de la
Remonstrance au peuple de France) (514 A). Le paralllisme ccit
universelle/immanence du soleil-vrit se retrouve propos de la description de
la folie, "maladie bien tenace et forte, mais laquelle pourtant le premier rayon de
la veue du patient perce et dissipe, comme le regard du soleil un brouillas opaque'
(655 C). G. Nakam, art. cit, p. 213, rappelle juste titre que les Essais se
terminent, l'extrme fin du Livre III, sur une prire Apollon (1116 B).
98
"(A) Platon disoit que les corps n'avoient jamais d'existence, ouy bien
naissante (...) Ce naistre n'acheve jamais, jamais n'arreste (...) Ains, depuis la
semence, va tousjours se changeant et muant d'un autre" (601-02).
97

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Olivier Pot
comme d'un esclair la belle lumiere de la sant, si libre et si pleine,
comme il advient en nous soudaines et plus aspres choliques? Y a il
rien en cette douleur soufferte qu'on puisse contrepoiser au plaisir
d'un si prompt amandement (1093)?99

En tout tat de cause, cette conscience est coextensive au sentiment de la "mortalit", et en synchronie parfaite avec la prcarit de
l'tre (la "vuidange"), mortalit et prcarit apprhendes comme
la cause la fois ontologique et phnomnologique de l'ordre des
choses100:
(C) Cette raison, qui redresse Socrates de son vicieux ply, le rend
obissant aux hommes et aux Dieux (...), courageux en la mort, non
parce que son ame est immortelle, mais par ce qu'il est mortel (1059).

Dans cet essai "De la Phisionomie", toute la digression sur le

Socrate-Silne voque au demeurant la possibilitinscrite au
cur du Problme 30, 1de trouver une norme et une pondra-tion
naturelles la complexion mlancolique101:
(B) Je n'ay pas corrig, comme Socrate, par force de la raison mes
complexions
naturelles, et n'ay aucunement troubl par art mon inclination102 . Je me laisse aller, comme je suis venu (...), mais le laict de ma
nourrice a est Dieu mercy mediocrement sain et tempr (1059).

"Je me laisse aller comme je suis venu": s'abandonner son

temprament selon une gnalogie certaine ("le laict de ma nourrice"), c'est retrouverau-del des dformations et de
l'informela "forme universelle de l'humaine condition" qui n'est pas
autre chose que le specimen de l'individu tendu tout le genre
humain: "Moy le premier par mon estre universel, comme

99

Plus loin, cette "vuidange" de la pierre produit "quelque naturelle

douceur", ce qui est une reformulation "gntique" du Problme 30, 1 ("les gnies
ont naturellement quelque mlancolie").
100
"Le vray visage des choses" que "l'usage nous desrobbe", dit ailleurs
Montaigne (116 A).
101
Auxquelles il est fait allusion dans la mme page: "(B) Et crois qu'il y a
quelque art distinguer (...) les malicieux des chagrins, les desdaigneux des
melancholiques, et telles autres qualitez voisines" (1059).
102
Notons l'volution entre le Socrate de (B) et le Socrate de (C): dans le
dernier allongeai!, Socrate a "par nature" (et non plus "par art") une bonne complexion, volution conforme dsormais au diagnostic du Problme 30, 1. Le
portrait de Socrate-Silne en "mlancolique gnial" (pos ds le Problme 30, 1)
se trouve galement, aprs Ficin, chez Ronsard.

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283

Michel de Montaigne"103, ou tout bonnement ce don gnial

(parce que gntique) qu'a l'espce humaine de "(C) naturelle-ment
(B) scavoir vivre cette vie" (1110). Comme chez Freud,
l'ontogense rpte la phylogense104 la nature parlant deux fois: en
pesant et pensant ses inclinations naturelles, l'essayiste ne fait que
reconstruire la gnralit du genre, puisque dans le gnti-que est
dj l'uvre une gnrosit et que dans tout "homme non
desnatur" opre et travaille "une semence de raison universelle"
(1059). Si l'on voulait chercher une traduction de ce phnomne
dans la doctrine humorale, on dirait sans trop de tromper que,
pour Montaigne, la mlancolie induit cette pres-cience heureuse de
la phylogense, cette intelligence du genre qu'au temps de
Saturne, les hommes partageaient avec les animaux si l'on en croit
une addition tardive de l'"Apologie"105:
(C) Quand je me jou ma chatte, qui sait si elle passe son temps de
moy plus que je ne fay d'elle. Platon, en sa peinture de l'aage dor
sous Saturne, compte entre les principaux advantages de l'homme de
lors la communication qu'il avoit avec les bestes, desquelles
s'enquerant et s'instruisant (...) il acqueroit une tres-parfaicte
intelligence et prudence (...) Ce grand autheur a opin qu'en la plus
part de la forme corporelle que nature leur a donn, elle a regard
seulement l'usage des prognostications qu'on en tiroit en son temps
(452-53)106.

103

Ainsi Alexandre a "une vaillance extreme en son espece (...) mais elle
n'est qu'en espece, ny assez pleine par tout, et universelle" (336 B). Cette rencontre ncessaire de l'espce et de l'universel a t bien tudi, en relation avec
les thories scolastiques, par A. Compagnon, Nous, Michel de Montaigne, 1980.
Dans notre perspective, l'universalit de l'individu ressortit un processus
gnalogique comme semble l'indiquer ici l'exhibition du patronyme (Michel de
Montaigne) et comme le confirme mutatis mutandis un passage de l'essai "De la
coustume...": "(A) Et les communes imaginations, que nous trouvons [...] infuses
en nostre ame par la semence de nos peres, il semble que ce soyent les generalles et
naturelles" (115-116).
104
J. Laplanche et J. B. Pontalis, Fantasme originaire. Fantasmes des
origines. Origines du fantasme, 1985.
105
Ce qui tendrait indiquer que, contrairement l'opinion communment
reue, Montaigne rejoint bien finalement la thse de la "thologie naturelle" de
Remond de Sebond, mais par le dtour du Problme 30, 1 (condamn, il est vrai,
dans la premire version de cette mme "Apologie") et, comme le voulait
Alistote,... sans la thologie.
106
Dans la tradition du "mlancolique gnial par nature", la sensibilit
"pointue" de l'humeur (qualifie de "sixime sens" par les traits) permet en effet
de "prognostiquer" naturellement les vnements futurs.

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Olivier Pot

Certes, la Mre Nature peut toujours, nous l'avons vu, effacer les
vestiges, les "traces" de cette pese/pense du corps107 et faire
dgnrer la gnrosit initiale de l'espce en productions
individuelles, informes et monstrueuses. Nanmoins, comme
l'indique l'Essai "Du Repentir", la "bonne conscience" qui fait
revivre chaque fois l'vnement heureux de la naissance dans
"une nature bien ne" se confond dsormais avec "cette complaisance et satis-faction" de soi soi, "cette esjouissance
naturelle, et le seul payement qui jamais nous manque", figure
mme du "plaisir" et du "jouir" dont le sujet se gratifie pour
autant que son dsir se dsire matrise de sa gense:
(B) Il y a certes je ne say quelle congratulation108 de bien faire qui
nous resjouit en nous-mesmes, et une fiert genereuse qui
accompaigne la bonne conscience (807)109.

Descente dans l'accidentalit de la naissance pour retrouver

l'idiosyncrasie et en reprsenter la pulsion qui est l'origine de
l'existence (l'historicit et la temporalit parentales)110, tel est le
mouvement "involutif" de la conscience: en se laissant "tomber" en
lui-mme, le sujet reprend l'initiative gntique, engendrant

107

Starobinski, op. cit., pp. 258-59.

Le modalisateur nescio quid ou aliquid rvle bien le retour de la
"mlancolie gniale" du Problme 30, 1, qui situe l'exceptionnalit au niveau de
Yeuphuia, et non plus (comme chez Platon) celui du furor divinus.
109
Cette auto-satisfaction rappelle la dfinition de Yamicitia dsintresse
que nous avons analyse plus haut. Et surtout celle de la "chastet gnreuse" et
maritale du pre, garant de la bonne nature du fils: "(B) [Que] l'ame ne refuse
point de participer ses naturels plaisirs et s'y complaire conjugalement" (1110).
110
L'essai "Du Repentir" en donne une belle illustration: celle du fils qui
retrouve le latin de son enfance au moment mme de la mort du pre. "(B) On
n'extirpe pas ces qualitez originelles, on les couvre, on les cache. Le langage latin
m'est comme naturel (...) mais il y a quarante ans que je ne m'en suis du tout
poinct servy parler, ny escrire: si est-ce que des extremes et soudaines emotions o je suis tomb deux ou trois fois de ma vie, et l'une, voyent mon pre tout
sain se renverser sur moy, pasm, j'ay tousjours eslanc du fond des entrailles les
premieres paroles Latines: (C) nature se sourdant et s'exprimant force,
l'encontre d'un long usage" (810). La chute au lieu de la gense -- au moment de
la mort du pre restaure la "bonne conscience" que l'abandon de la langue
"paternelle" (le latin) avait culpabilise (l'"extase" - "pasm" tant ici dsormais
lie la gense parentale).
108

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

285

son propre "gnie", dominant sa propre gense111. "Or de la cognoissance de cette mienne volubilit j'ay par accident engendr en
moy quelque constance d'opinions, et n'ay guiere alter les
miennes premires et naturelles" (569). La "chute" accidentelle est
alors le meilleur moyen de rconcilier le mlancolique avec son
destin phnomnologique, d'autoriser une pente sans repentir112
dans une continuit qui assimile la naissance cette autre chute
existentielle et naturelle qu'est la mort:
(B) Il ne faut poinct d'art la cheute: (C) la fin se trouve de soy au
bout de chaque besongne. Mon monde est failly, ma forme est vuide;
je suis tout du pass, et suis tenu de Yauthorizer et d'y conformer mon
issue (1010).

Rejoignant dans sa chute le point panoptique de sa gense ("je suis

tout du pass"), l'essayiste peut enfin natre et tre tel qu'en lui-mme
("H n'est plus temps de devenir autre") (1010 B), c'est--dire comme
auteur ("authoriser")113. "Je" redevient l o il a toujours t, la
symbolique de l'criture retraant le mouvement de l'"instant" qui
passe comme "instance" de la conscience qui se forme de l'adhsion
totale sa propre gense. Sans doute est-ce l la fonction que
Montaigne reconnatrait en dfinitive la mlancolie: moment de
"rflexion" accidentelle de l'humeur, elle est comme l'"incidence" du
mtabolisme physiologique sur l'me qui se recueille, se plie et
s'attarde dans les stases de ses divers mouvements.
(B) Les autres sentent la douceur d'un contentement et de la
prosperit; je la sens ainsi qu'eux, mais ce n'est pas en passant et en
glissant. Si la faut-il estudier, savourer et ruminer, pour en rendre
graces condignes celuy qui nous l'octroye. Ils jouyssent les autres
plaisirs comme ils font celluy du sommeil, sans les cognoistre. A celle

111

La matrise et l'exprimentation sur le corps (concernant surtout le

rajeunissement) constituent un des grands mythes alchimiques de la Renaissance
depuis Bacon: 'involution est le moment dialectique d'une volution (la
"rgnrescence"). Cf. O. Pot, Mlancolie et inspiration, op. cit., pp. 372-75, "Puersenex".
112
Cf. F. Rigolot, "La Pente du 'repentir'. Un exemple de remotivation du
signifiant dans les Essais de Montaigne", in Columbia Montaigne Conference
Papers, Lexington, French Forum Publishers, 1981, pp. 119-134.
113
"J'ay choisi le temps o ma vie, que j'ay peindre, je l'aie toute devant
moy: ce qui en reste tient plus de la mort" (1057). Sur cette voix qui s'crit
"d'outre-tombe", cf. L. Marin, La Voix excommunie, 1981, pp. 133-56, "Le tombeau de Montaigne".

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Olivier Pot
fin que le dormir mesme ne m'eschappe ainsi stupidement, j'ay
autrefois trouv bon qu'on me le troublat pour que je l'entrevisse. Je
consulte d'un contentement avec moy, je ne l'escume pas; je le sonde
et plie ma raison le recueillir, devenue chagreine et desgoute. Me
trouve-je en quelque assiette tranquille? y a il quelque volupt qui me
chatouille? je ne la laisse pas friponer aux sens, j'y associe mon ame,
non pas pour s'y engager, mais pour s'y agreer, non pas pour s'y perdre mais pour s'y trouver; et l'employe de sa part se mirer dans ce
prospere estat, en poiser et estimer le bon heur et amplifier (1112).

Cette description exploite, semble-t-il, la facult de ddouble-ment

de la mlancolie aristotlicienne mais en la mettant au service
d'une cnesthsie: la pesanteur et la lenteur dpressive de l'humeur
("chagreine et desgoute") concourent "poiser" et "amplifier" les
bonheurs chanceux du corps, les faire "se mirer" et "entrevoir" dans
son
paisseur
moire
(les
concrtions
atrabilaires
traditionnellement compares au tain d'un miroir o se rflchissent
les vnements ou les images des sens). La stratgie "humorale"
n'est donc plus d'atteindre "quelque divinit": elle est au contraire
de "ruminer" la jouissance, d'y "associer son ame" pour se resituer
non l'origine des dieux, mais celle de la gense et du flux
humoral. Notons l'importance dans ce contexte des occurrences
"gouster" et "goust". Le got, c'estcomme on saitl'essai, activit
reconnue d'abord au "taste-vin" ou chanson qui "sonde" et soupse
les quilibres hydrostatiques des humeurs114; avec le gouster ou
l'essai, la "saveur" des choses ("savourer", "ruminer") se fait
proprement "savoir" (sapere), test qui est par dfinition aussi un
"plaisir de tte"115. Slection intelligente de la sensation, le got opre
une fois de plus la "conjoincture" o l'humeur devient esprit et
humour, o de sa pese nat ou se forme une pense. "Nostre goust
n'advient non plus ce qui est au-dessus de luy, qu' ce qui est au
dessous" (346): c'est en raison de cette atten-tion stabilise que
Montaigne rcuse les extases de la saintet (les "furieux divins") au
profit des stases de la sant.

114
"J'ay assez vescu (...) Pour qui en voudra gouster, j'en ay faict l'essay, son
eschanon" (1080 B). Autre figure du Verseau signe astrologique du "mlancolique saturnien" (dont Montaigne serait proche par son thme natal: 28 fvrier) - ,
Vchanson symbolise la temprance ou l'quilibre.
115
Le mot test ("mental test", dit l'expression complte) est tymologiquement li tte (testum).

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

287

(B) De moy, je ne me sens guere agiter par secousse, je me trouve

quasi tousjours en ma place, comme font les corps lourds et poisans.
Si je ne suis chez moy, j'en suis tousjours bien pres. Mes desbauches
ne m'emportent pas fort loing. Il n'y a rien d'extreme et d'estrange; et
si ay des ravissemens sains et vigoureux (811)116.

"Rien d'extreme et d'estrange". Si Montaigne ose ainsi prsumer de

ses "emportements", il le doit en fait la pondration de sa
mlancolie ("corps lourds et poisans"). Se tenir l'instant o la
pense se forme de la pese ou de la pondration (mlancolique), c'est alors "se trouver en sa place", tre "bien pres de chez soy",
au moment heureux o gense du corps et gense de l'esprit
apparaissent encore concomitantes. Un accident de cheval
permettra, comme on sait, l'exprimentation in vivo de ce
ddoublement de la conscience synesthsique saisie l o elle doit
l'tre: dans le moment indistinct et encore indcis de la chute qui
est en mme temps naissance de l'esprit par "capil-larit" avec les
spiriti du corps: "Quant aux fonctions de l'me, elles naissoient
avec mesme progrez que celle du corps (...) Je ne savoy ni d'o je
venois ny o j'allois" (374-76 A).
Il faut le redire. La problmatique aristotlicienne de la mlan-colie
se voit ainsi replace, au terme de la dconstruction du "gnie"
entreprise par les Essais, son (vrai) niveau phnomnologique,
celui d'une smiologie qui ne signifierait que sa propre gense,
quand le plaisir nat indiffremmentavant tout diagnostic
discriminatoirede la mlancolie, et la mlancolie de ce plaisir
mme: got et dgot, apathie et excitation s'enracinent alors
dans le mme vitalisme de la conscience, dans la "consubstantialit
et consanguinit" de son malheur et bon-heur. Congnitalement,
l'"image forme en son excellence" de la volupt comprend en mme
temps sa "dfaillance":
Nostre extreme volupt a quelque air de gemissement et de plainte.
Direz-vous qu'elle se meurt d'angoisse? Voire quand nous en

116

L encore le modle est la naissance: "(B) Et en matire d'opinions

universelles, ds l'enfance je me logeay au poinct o j'avois me tenir" (812).
Dans les Essais, l'extase a, semble-t-il, une acception toujours ngative ("cette
morgue grave, severe, et ecstatique") (877 B), Montaigne attribuant ce
phnomne la "force de l'imagination" (99 A). C'est sur une condamnation de
l'"oracle" que se terminent d'ailleurs les Essais: "(C) Ces humeurs transcendentes
m'effrayent (...) et rien ne m'est digerer plus fascheux en la vie de Socrate que
ses ecstases et demoneries" (1115).

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formons l'image en son excellence, nous la fardons d'epithetes et
qualitez maladifves et douloureuses: langueur, mollesse, foiblesse,
deffaillance, morbidezza117 grand tesmoignage de leur consanguinit
et consubstantialit (673).

Inversement, T'ombre" qui "tombe" sur le mlancolique n'est plus

vrai dire l'assombrissement du "deuil" en mal de perlaboration,
mais le "dessein" lucide de la conscience qui consent jouir au
miroir et au simulacre de sa propre sduction, "au giron mesme
de la melancholie":
(B) Metrodorus disoit qu'en la tristesse il a quelque alliage de plaisir
(...) J'imagine bien qu'il y a du dessein, du consentement et de la complaisance se nourrir en la melancholie (...). Il y a quelque ombre de
friandise et delicatesse qui nous rit et qui nous flatte au giron mesme
de la melancholie. Y a-il pas des complexions qui en font leur aliment? 674)
(C) Le travail et le plaisir, tres dissemblables de nature, s'associent
pourtant de je ne scay quelle joincture naturelle. (673)

En dcidant de se mettre "religieusement", en conscience

l'coute de cette plasticit expressive et physionomique des
cnesthsies118, les Essais inventeront la forme moderne laque
de la confession augustinienne: dans Vabditum mentiscette
"pointe" de l'me (acies animi) o les humeurs se spiritualisent
humoristiquement, Dieu est remplac par la jouissance, jouissance non moins secrte que la divinit en sa toute puissance
puisqu'elle ne fait pas moins toucher l'origine et la racine
mmes de l'tre: sa sexualit119. L'"obscur objet du dsir", ne
serait-ce pas ce que cherchait ds le dbut nommer la mlancolie montaignienne comme l'avait fait, semble-t-il dj avant

117

Pratique exceptionnelle dans les Essais, le terme est soulign par

Montaigne lui-mme.
118
"Nature nous descouvre cette confusion: les peintres tiennent que les
mouvements et plis du visage qui servent au pleurer, servent aussi au rire. De
vray, avant que l'un ou l'autre soyent achevez d'exprimer, regardez la conduicte
de la peincture: vous estes en doubte vers lequel c'est qu'on va. Et l'extremit du
rire se mesle aux larmes" (674).
119
La "colligeance" de l'me et du corps se trouve en effet aussi bien dans
la recherche des plaisirs qu'en la "poenitence" des saints, car "il n'y a rien en nous,
pendant cette prison terrestre, purement ny corporel ny spirituel" (892-93). On se
souvient du mot de Lacan (Le Sminaire XX) propos de la Sainte Thrse du
Bernin: "Elle jouit".

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289

avant elle, l'acidia monastique du moyen ge120 ? C'est en tous les

cas pour avoir refus d'couter cette voix "mixte" et ce "ton gauche"
que Platon a, selon l'essayiste, manqu le divin:
(B) Quand je me confesse moy religieusement, je trouve que la meilleure bont que j'aye, a de la teinture vicieuse [la tinctura de la mlancolie?). Et crains que Platon en sa plus verte vertu (...), s'il y eust
escout de pres, (C) et il y escoutoit de pres, (B) il y eust senty
quelque ton gauche de mixtion humaine, mais ton obscur et sensible
seulement soy. L'homme en tout et partout, n'est que rapiessement
et bigarrure (674).

A choisir en effet entre inconscient divin et inconscient du dsir, c'est

bien tout compte fait paradoxalement le "dmon du bizarre" (ou de la
"bigarrure")121 qui protge le mieux l'thique contre tout
dbordement de l'irrationalit, et l'inspiration divine qui conduit
la perversion de l'humain.
(C) Et Platon, employant toutes choses rendre ses citoyens vertueus,
(...) dict que, par quelque divine inspiration, il advient que les meschans mesmes savent souvent, tant de parole que d'opinion, justement
distinguer les bons des mauvais. Ce personnage et son pedagogue sont
merveilleux et hardis ouvriers faire joindre les operations et revelations
divines tout par tout o il faut l'humaine force (...)
Pour tant l'adventure l'appelloit Timon l'injuriant: le grand forgeur
de miracle (629).

Il n'est pas possible de retourner plus compltement la thse du

Problme 30, i, ou plutt de dmontrer plus logiquement par
l'absurde que la validit de cette thse ne repose pas en fait sur
l'inspiration divine, mais sur l'instigation du corps: pour Platon, ce
sont les "mchants" (et non plus les "excellents" d'Aristote) qui
dtiennent la vrit. On aura du reste not partout la rcurrence des
modalisateurs: "quelque air de gemissement", "quelque alliage de
plaisir", "je ne say quelque jointure naturelle", "quelque ton gauche"
... La formule ne renvoie jamais une instance suprieure
(sinon une fois et ngativement: "quelque divine

120

Selon G. Agamben, Stanze. Parole et fantasme, 1981 (ch. "Eros mlancolique"), Yacidia exemplifierait le bonheur imprescriptible du mystique qui se
possde et "se touche" dans son manque.
121
Comme on sait, "bizarre" vient tymologiquement de "bigearre"
("bigarr"). Parlant des Franais accoutums aux "bigarrures" vestimentaires,
Montaigne prcise ailleurs qu'"il ne s'habille guiere", selon une heureuse
alternance tempramentale de mlancolie et de liesse, "que de noir ou de blanc,
l'imitation de [son] pre" (227 A).

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inspiration"), mais la discrtion du plaisir secret: la superfluit

(perissos) n'est plus le gnie (divin), mais cette gnialit ou plutt
gnitalit que chacun cherche revivre dans le jeu profond des
humeurs. Davantage encore: Montaigne ne fait plus de cette
modalisation le moment discriminateur de la crasequi
privilgierait seulement la divinit de l'humeur, mais un
modalisateur de la seule conscience dont la subjectivit s'nonce
objectivement en prenant son compte l'nonc et en faisant
l'aveu d'un plaisir fantasmatique. Ainsi l'essai "Des boyteux"
prcise l'attention aussi bien des sorcires que de leurs
inquisiteurs, tous solidaires dans le fantasme:
J'ayme ces mots, qui amollissent et moderent la temerit de nos
propositions: A 'adventure, Aucunement, Quelque, On dict, Je pense,
et semblables... (1030)

Le supplment que le Problme aristotlicien attribue la mlancolie, Montaigne le relit plus prcisment comme surplus du sujet
nonciateur dans sa pense et son discours. Le "gnie", c'est
l'nonciation du sujet qui s'inscrit et se pose l'origine de cette
nonciation, nonciation qui est en dfinitive celle de son
instance gntique et de son plaisir. La mlancolie, c'est le prix
pay pour objectiver cette situation nonciative o le je parvient se
dire, dans sa parole mme, prsent et jouissant.
Le Boiteux mlancolique
La pense natrait-elle alorsnon plus au-dessusmais
couvert de l'humeur et sous ses auspices?
(A) Soubs cette complexion lourde, nourrissois des imaginations hardies
et des opinions au-dessus de mon aage (...) Mon ame ne laissoit
pourtant en mesme temps d'avoir part soy des remuements fermes
(C) et des jugemens seurs et ouverts autour des objets qu'elle connoissoit, (A) et les digeroit seule, sans aucune communication (17476).

Evoquant l'chec relatif de sa propre ducation, Montaigne ne

s'attribue, du rpartitoire tripartite de la psychologie tradition-nelle
(corps, imagination, esprit), que la fonction mdiane et
mdiatrice: l'imagination volatile qui "remue", tel un ludion,
entre le corps "pesant, mol et endormi" et un esprit non moins
"lent" ("l'esprit lent, l'apprhension tardive, l'invention lasche; et

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291

aprs tout un incroyable default de memoire") (174 A). Choix qui

rappelle cette fois en tous points que l'instance intermdiaire et
centrale est, chez Aristote, le thumos, organe de l'motion et sige
de la facult de "se sentir soi-mme"122. C'est en effet travers les
infimes "dclinaisons" et modifications de l'humeur (euthymie,
athymie, dysthymic)123 que le mlancolique s'prouve lui-mme,
"apprhende son tre au monde, se sent tre, se sent vivre dans la
facilit ou dans la dtresse"124. Tel l'"homme de douleur" pointant
du doigt son "spleen" entour d'un cercle dans l'autoportrait de
Drer125, tout autobiographe cherche prouver et tester sa propre
humeur, il pense la pente de son tre phnomnal l'exemple de
l'hypochondriaque prenant acte de lui-mme dans cette prsence
labileblessante et/ou heureusedu corps. En somme, la pense du
sujet montai-gnien se trouverait inextricablement "enroule" ou
"enrolle" (c'est tout un) dans les "plis" et "replis internes" de
l'humoralisme126, "moyti de sa complexion, moyti de son des-sein"
(1098), toute pense consistant (sou)peser son pendi-mento
humoral: "Il faut bien bander l'ame pour lui faire sentir comme elle
s'escoule" (1105)127. C'est dans l'exprience phnomnologique
de sa mallabilit, dans le sentiment primitif de sa perte
exprience et sentiment envisageables seulement dans la thorie
humorale traditionnelleque la conscience prend conscience de son
existence et que le "moi" se constitue comme

122

Pigeaud, op. cit., Introduction, p. 30.

123

Pigeaud, ibid., pp. 73-74, note 20 et p. 30.

124

Pigeaud, ibid., pp. 31-32.

SM, ill. 129, et la lgende affrente: "O est la tache jaune que le doigt
montre, c'est l que j'ai mal". Selon les Epidmies, la crise de mlancolie de
Parmniscus s'accompagnait d'"une jactation avec la main sur les hypochondres,
comme s'il en souffrait", cit par Pigeaud, op. cit., p. 31. Le motif de la "main au
menton" aurait la mme fonction: le penseur soupse sa pense comme le poids
de son vnementialit.
126
"(B) J'avois desj pris un autre ply, plus selon ma complexion" (949);
"(C) tous mes naturels plis" (943); "les profondeurs opaques de ses [l'me] replis
internes" (378 C).
127
Mais aussi "sentir", c'est dans l'ancienne psychologie "penser", le mode
d'tre de la pense (cf. le double sens classique de "sentiment").
125

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"en-soi"128. "Je fons et eschappe moy" (1101): comme on sait, la

fusibilit de la chose (morceau de cire chez Descartes, ou mor-ceau
de sucre chez Bergson) est l'vnement originaire de la
philosophie puisque dans l'attentedouloureuse ou simplement
impatientele "moi dsirant" advient la conscience de son
dsir129. Aussi est-ce dans cette tournure de l'humeur et des spiriti
du corps (comme l'on dit "une tournure d'esprit")130 que se constitue en
mme temps le projet autobiographique de se dire, le "trope" du
discours se donnant immdiatement comme le caractre ou le
"tour" que prennent les humeurs, comme leur tropisme ou leur
entropie. "Dire ce que je pense, et par com-plexion et par discours"
(649 B): le discours du moi ne peut tre que le transport
mtaphorique de l'humeur, son moment devenu le moto ou la pulsion
de la parole. La potique des lments est, chez Montaigne,
indissociable des lments de la potique: le "je pensant" est
consubstantiel aux mouvements du livre comme le concetto l'tait
congnitalement aux variations de l'humeur, par une "cousture" ou
une "joincte et fraternelle correspondance" (1114) qui dtermine
toute l'"acut" de l'examen ou de l'essai. Aussi l'oxymoron est-il la
figure privilgie de Montaigne puisqu'il est d'abord une
configuration du corps humoral:
(B) J'ay (...) la complexion entre le jovial et le melancholique, moyennement sanguine et chaude (641).

A premire vue Montaigne dsignerait ici l'quilibre optimal, le

"mixte" ("moyennement") de la mdecine galnique que le
Problme 30, 1 considre comme l'tat "abnormally normal" de
l'homme sain ou du "gnie". Commentant ce passage, J.
Starobinski parle justement de "mouvement compos", ou d'un

128
C'est la "diffrence du soi soi-mme" chez Aristote, cf. Pigeaud, op.
cit., p. 124 et note 53.
129
Dans cette exprience du "morceau de cire", le sujet montaignien reste
toutefois - contrairement ce qui se passe pour Descartes - intrieur au mouvement de chute qui constitue sa conscience. Sur cette diffrence, cf. M. Prieur, "La
cire de la Premire Sepmaine: un vnement philosophique", in Du Barias. Pote
encyclopdiste du 16e sicle, 1988, pp. 277-92.
130
Dans la conception humoraliste et pr-cartsienne de Montaigne,
l'esprit et le corps sont encore un: "(B) A quoy faire desmembrons nous en
divorce un bastiment tissu d'une si joincte et fraternelle correspondance? Au
rebours, renouons le par mutuels offices. Que l'esprit esveille et vivifie la
pesanteur du corps, le corps arreste la legeret de l'esprit et la fixe" (1114).

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293

modle "adynamique" dont la vise serait l'annulation des forces

antagonistes (ici les pulsions contraires d'excitabilit et de
dpression)131. Reste toutefois que la nature cyclothymique de la
mlancolie tend d'abord faire du sujet le lieutoujours en
suspens et suspendude ses tats divers comme le ferait le "concetto" lui-mme, cette relation "in absentia": si le "je" ne parvient se
(com)prendre que dans l'entre-deux, dans le temps mort situ la
frontire des humeurs qui le (d)composent ("J'ay la complexion
entre..."), cette saisie est pourtant dynamique puisque l'humour
qui constitue le rel du sujet se pense dans l'oscillation qui entrane
et prend ce sujet, ex-istant ds lors qu'il se situe la pointe de sa
contradiction sous-jacente et insiste sur ce qui (se) passe en lui:
"Quand je dance, je dance; quand je dors, je dors" (1107 B). Une
premire mouture de l'ambivalence mlancolique mettait mieux en
vidence cette dcomposition:
(A) Maintenant je suis tout faire, maintenant rien; ce qui m'est
plaisir cette heure, me sera quelquefois peine. Il se faict mille agitations indiscrettes et casuelles chez moy. Ou l'humeur melancholique
me tient, ou la cholerique; et de son authorit prive, cette heure le
chagrin predomine en moy, cet'heur l'alegresse. Quand je prens des
livres, j'auray appereu en tel passage des graces excellentes et qui
auront feru mon ame; qu'une autre fois j'y retombe, j'ay beau le
tourner et le virer, j'ay beau le plier et manier, c'est une masse
inconnue et informe pour moy (566).

Certes, cette premire version (A) est infrieure la formulation

dfinitive ("B moyennement entre le jovial et le melancholique"):
l'auteur ne cde-t-il pas encore trop de son "authorit" aux "mille
agitations indiscrettes et casuelles" qui se produisent son insu et
ses dpens ("Il se faict", "une masse informe")? Pourtant cette
description "archologique" de la cyclothymic mlancolique a le
mrite de rappeler que, plus que de l'quilibre humoral,
l'autonomie de la conscience nat d'abord d'un lapsuschute
("predomine", "j'y retombe") dont l'acte toujours manqu et
contre-temps ou contre-sens rature un trait d'esprit, un moment
spirituel et humoristique. Faut-il voir alors dans ce chancelle-ment
et cette perte d'quilibre vcus comme l'humour en situa-tion du
sujet132, la traduction d'une posture traditionnelle du
131

Starobinski, op. cit., pp. 282 et 280.

"Dans le systme des mouvements mtaphoriques, chanceler n'est pas
toujours tomber. Chanceler tient le milieu entre le droit chemin et la chute", ibid.,
p. 282.
132

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mlancolique: la claudication133? Il est significatif en tous les cas

que les deux descriptions qui montrent l'essayiste "entre le jovial et
le mlancholique" (641) ou pris "ou d'une humeur mlancholique
ou d'une cholrique" (566), se prolongent l'une et l'autre par une
rflexion sur le "pied": le mlancolique s'emptre dans son moment
ou mouvement humoral, il se prend ou s'empche (impedicare)
dans son propre corps134. Dans la premire occurrence, la relation
oblique est fournie par un vers de Martial que Montaigne applique
sa morphologie: "Unde rigent setis mihi crura et pectora villis: aussi
ai-je les jambes et la poitrine herisse de poils" (641 A). La
pilosit est un des symptmes connus de la mlancolie, puisque
les excroissances pileuses proviennent de l'vacuation des scories de
la bile noire, des excrments de l'humeur; mais ce diagnostic
"mlancolique" s'avre encore plus pertinent lorsque, comme ici,
l'humeur noire "s'exprime" par des stigmates aux membres
infrieurs. Le Problme 30, 1 ne mentionne-t-il pas les ulcres la
jambe chez des mlancoliques notoires comme Hraclsl'ruption
cutane rendant la mlancolie du hros "vidente"ou comme
Lysandre qui "il est arriv aussi qu'avant sa mort ce type
d'ulcres se manifesta"135. On comprend alors ce que signifie la
"blessure au pied" du mlancolique: ambivalent comme la
mlancolie elle-mme qui passe de la "pesanteur" l'"excellence", le
prurit fait toucher du doigt la placeinaccessible autrement que par
cette "friande dmangeaison"du bien-tre amoureux et dlicieux du
corps.
(B) Lors que Socrate, apres qu'on l'eust descharg de ses fers, sentit la
friandise de cette demangeaison que leur pesanteur avoit caus en ses
jambes, il se resjouyt considerer l'estroitte alliance de la douleur la
volupt, comme elles sont associes d'une liaison necessaire, si qu'
tours elles se suyvent et s'entr'engendrent (1093).136
133

Emblme clbre de la concidentia oppositorum, la grue "oyseau

saturnin", selon Rabelais (Pliade, p. 874) -- se tient en quilibre sur une patte,
serrant dans l'autre une pierre qu'elle ne doit laisser choir, dans la demi-torpeur
du sommeil, entre veille et lthargie.
134
L encore la pierre, symbole de la gnitalit comme le pied, est la
matrialisation hrditaire de cet empchement: "C'est quelque grosse pierre (...)
excrement normais superflu et empeschant" (1095 C).
135

Trad. Pigeaud, op. cit., p. 83.

L'iconographie, comme on sait, reprsente les "enfants de Saturne" dans
la posture de prisonniers enchans par le pied.
136

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295

Dans la seconde occurrence, le constat d'une alternance humeur

cholerique/humeur melancholique prolonge une rflexion sur la
"(d)marche" montaignienne qui introduit directement la discus-sion
du Problme 30, 1:
(A) J'ay le pied si instable et si mal assis, je le trouve si ays croler et si
prest au branle, et ma veu si desregle, que jun je me sens autre
qu'aprs le repas; si ma sant me rid et la clart d'un beau jour, me
voyl honneste homme; si j'ay un cor qui me presse l'orteil, me voyl
renfrogn, mal plaisant et inaccessible. (B) Un mme pas de cheval
me semble tantost rude, tantost ays, et mesme chemin cette heure
plus court, une autrefois plus long, et une mesme forme ores plus, ores
moins agreable...(565-66).

Vicissitude de la marche qui est avant d'tre telle quelle celle de la

dmarche de l'criture montaignienne ("B Il faut que j'aille de la
plume comme des pieds") (991)137, est aussi celle de la pense de
l'essayiste en gnral:
(A) Mes conceptions et mon jugement ne marche qu' tastons, chancelant, bronchant et chopant; et, quand je suis all le plus avant que je
puis, si ne me suis-je aucunement satisfaict: je vois encore du pas au
de l, mais d'une ve trouble et en nuage, que je ne puis desmeler. Et,
entreprenant de parler indiffremment de tout ce qui se prsente ma
fantasie et n'y employant que mes propres et naturels moyens, s'il
m'advient comme il faict souvent, de rencontrer de fortune dans les
bons autheurs ces mesmes lieux que j'ai entrepris de traiter (...): me
reconnoistre, au prix de ces gens l, si faible et si chetif, si poisant et si
endormy, je me fay piti ou desdain moy mesmes. Si me gratifie-je
de cecy, que mes opinions ont cet honneur de rencontrer souvent aux
leur (...) (146).

On aura remarqu ici une variante euphorique de la "chute":

"tomber", c'est aussi faire "une heureuse rencontre", etquoique
"poisant et lourd"se "rencontrer" avec les grands esprits. "(B) Et quand
seray-je bout de reprsenter une continuelle agitation et mutation
de mes penses, en quelque matiere qu'elles tombentV, s'inquitait
l'essayiste en voquant ses inepties, "excremens d'un vieil esprit, dur
tantost, tantost lache et tousjours indigeste" (946). Dsormais,
une rponse optimiste est donne avec cette perception
phnomnologique de la "chute" qui, loin de clore le

107

Cf. M. McGowan, "Il faut que j'aille de la plume comme des pieds", in
Rhtorique de Montaigne, 1985, 1985, pp. 165-175.

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sens138, l'ouvre au contraire la bonne fortune de l'vnement,

l'inspiration du moment (Einfallen dsigne plus justement que
furor, l'inspiration), analyse qui n'est pas sans rappeler la notion
aristotlicienne de kairos telle que la formule le Problme 30, 1: la
dpression mlancolique consentie et pleinement vcue dans la
fidlit son tant devient la chance d'un rendez-vous inespr
avec sa propre vrit139. Loin de conduire la perte, la chute fait
retourner, dans ces circonstances exceptionnelles, vers le lieu
authentique de la naissance, en dfinitive celui de l'origine familiale
et gnreuse:
(B) Pour moy, je lou une vie glissante, sombre et muette (...) Ma fortune le veut ainsi. Je suis nay d'une famille qui a coul sans esclat et
tumulte, et de longue mmoire particulirement ambitieuse de
preud'homie (1021).

Gnrosit que matrialise maintenant un tat intermdiaire de

lvitation140 o l'tre se laisse porter par l'euphorie existentielle et la
fortune du moment, l'heure de la "grce" {kairos) ne pouvant tre
chez le mlancolique euphusqu'un bonheur d'tre, un "bientre"141. Telle est la rverie montaignienne que de se voir vhicul par
sa forme naissante comme en tmoigne la longue digression sur les
coches, digression qui est la fois bonheur de l'criture "divagante"
et loges des facilits ou commodits exist-entielles:
(C) Je ne pleinderois mon temps dire icy l'infinie variet que les
histoires nous presentent de l'usage des coches (...), divers selon les

138
Les nombreuses allusions que Montaigne fait sa "fainantise", son
"indolence" et "nonchalance" (par exemple: "[C] Je me sens poiser aux escoutans.
[...] extremement oisif, extremement Ubre, (642) [...] [d'un] naturel poisant, paresseux et fay neant") (643) ne sont en somme que des stratgies d'anticipation,
comme dans le Probleme 30, 1, visant le renversement inattendu de la mlancolie
gniale ("Autrement bon clerc") dont le pre est symboliquement le garant ("Et si
suis fils d'un pere tres dispost et d'une allegresse qui luy dura jusques son
extrme vieillesse") {ibid.).
139
Voir mon analyse de la "Melencholia I" dans "La mlancolie de la
forme", in Versants, 19, 1991, pp. 59-80.
140
"Neque submissam et abjectam, neque se efferentem", prcise la
rfrence latine omise dans notre citation. La "mlancolie gniale" est ainsi la
matrice phnomnologique de cette "moyenne mesure" (l'ariston metron du
Problme 30, 1) que Montaigne pose comme son idal (1102 C).
141
Mourir d'aise serait-il alors, comme pour les mystiques, le dsir inavou
de Montaigne? "A force de bien estre je me meurs" (769 A).

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297

nations, les siecles, de grand effect, ce me semble, et necessit: si que

c'est merveille que nous en ayons perdu toute connoissance (901)142.

On comprend le got de Montaigne pour le voyage. Forme la plus

primitive du transport et qui l'emporte naturellement sur toute autre
extase (divine), le "branle perptuel" ("Se laisser aller au branle de son
coche", "au branle de son cheval") (633 A; 711 B) matrialise cette
autorotisation de la conscience qui s'enchante de ses propres
"secousses." "(B) J'entreprens seule-ment de me branler, pendant que
le branle me plaist" (977).
On sait aussi comment l'essai "Des boyteux" "tourne" sur sa fin
l'examen de la sorcellerie, sujet apparemment loign des
promesses du titre: l encore, la dmarche oblique et chancelante du "saturnien" modlise, sur le fond comme dans la
forme, l'rotisation de toute pense. Montaigne part d'un con-stat
gnral inspir par la rforme du calendrier: nous "demeurons
en dette" ou en "arrerages cause d'un jour d'empeschement et
de trouble". De cet apologue, il ressort que, se donnant toujours en
supplment ou en manque ("ce jour extraordinaire"), le temps
qui "boite"143 figure la gense phnomnologique de notre
croyance dans "ces accidens super-naturels et fantastiques": "(B) J'ay
veu la naissance de plusieurs miracles de mon temps. Encore qu'ils
s'estoufent en naissant, nous ne laissons pas de prevoir le train qu'ils
eussent pris s'ils eus-sent vescu leur aage" (1027). Gense autonome
qui va "son train" par "un progrez naturel" (1028 B), le miraculeux a
toujours pour origine le bas ou le gntique: le premier cas de
"piperie" rap-port n'est-il pas justement celui d'un gentilhomme
qui se fie un charlatan pour gurir la "goutte" de ses jambes ("par la
force de son apprehension persuada et endormit ses jambes pour
quelques heures, si qu'il en tira du service qu'elles avoient
desapris luy faire il y avoit long temps") (1028-29)144 ? Car en

142

Notons que dans les reprsentations traditionnelles, le mlancolique ou

le saturnien est souvent, cause de sa boterie native ( felix culpa!), transport
sur un char (sur cette rverie du coche chez Ronsard, autre mlancolique notoire,
voir O. Pot, Mlancolie et inspiration, op. cit., p. 414 sqq.).
143

"Les cieux se compriment vers nous en vieillissant" (1026).

La pesanteur (mlancolique) constitue alors l'antidote de cette sublimation rotique: "Je suis lourd et me tiens un peu au massif et au vraysemblable"
(1031 B).
144

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Olivier Pot

dfinitive, c'est toujours au "problme" de la sexualit qu'aboutit, "

propos ou hors de propos", la "boiterie": "Celuy-l ne cognoist pas
Venus en sa parfaicte douceur qui n'a couch avec la boiteuse"
(1033). De toutes les explications aberrantes donnes de cette
apparente perversion du sentiment, Montaigne ne retient en effet
que l'extrme facilit de notre entendement prendre son "pied"
partout. "(B) Il n'est rien si souple et si errati-que que notre
entendement: c'est le soulier de Theramenez, bon tous pieds"
(1034)145. Ce qui frappe de fait Montaigne, ce n'est pas tant que les
sorcires fantasment, qu'elles avouent d'aussi bonne foi la ralit
de leur dsir: "(B) Je vis et preuves et libres confessions et je ne
say quelle marque insensible sur cette mis-rable vieille" (1032)146.
Qu'est-ce dire sinon que la volupt a des droits imprescriptibles
qu'il faut bien lui reconnatre? "(B) [J]e leur eusse plustost
ordonn de l'ellebore que de la cicue" (1032): en rduisant la
sorcellerie la gnitalit, Montaigne ne rcuse pas pour autant la
prime de plaisir du fantasme, bien au contraire: si "le mouvement
dtraqu de la boiteuse apportast quelque nouveau plaisir la
besoigne", il serait le premier sous-crire cette opinion (ce qu'il fait
d'ailleurs pour sa gouverne, lui qui a une "pense tumultuaire et
vacillante") pour autant bien sr que le dsir soit dsir de plaisir et
non dsir de mort. C'est ici que paradoxalement, la "confession" de la
sorcire rejoint la "con-fession d'ignorance"147 de l'essayiste: pour
l'un comme pour l'autre, la sexualit demeure bien cette "inquitante
estranget"

145
Il faudrait examiner dans ce contexte les emplois du mot soulier concentrs dans le dernier livre des Essais o ils servent souvent connoter la
plasticit idiosyncrasique du dsir: "C'est proprement tailler et coudre un soulier
pour qu'un autre le chausse" (836 C); "Joinct le soulier neuf et bien form de cet
homme du temps pass, qui vous blesse le pied" (948 B: souvenir du romain de
Plutarque qui rpudie sa femme: "Voyez ce soulier, il est bien fait, mais je suis le
seul savoir o il blesse"); "A chaque pied son soulier" (1066 B); "[Un
Rhtoricien], c'est un cordonnier qui sait faire de grands souliers un petit pied"
(305 B).
146
"Il ne faut pas toujours s'arrester la propre confession de ces gens icy,
car on leur a veu parfois s'accuser d'avoir tu des personnes qu'on trouvoit saines
et vivantes" (1031).
147
"(B) Qui veut guerir de l'ignorance, il faut la confesser" [...] "ignorance
forte et genereuse [...] pour laquelle concevoir il n'y a pas moins de science que
pour concevoir la science" (1030).

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

299

qui ne peut en dfinitive se "reconnatre" dans son dsir,

(C) Jusques cette heure, tous ces miracles et evenements estranges
se cachent devant moy. Je n'ay veu monstre et miracle au monde plus
expres que moy-mesme. On s'apprivoise toute estranget par l'usage
et le temps; mais plus je me hante et me connois, plus ma difformit
m'estonne, moins je m'entens en moy (1029),

mais que la mlancolie ("Saturne avec Venus conjoint") (782)

permettrait au moins de mtaphoriser.
Histoires d'une mlancolie
Il est sans doute toujours hasardeux de proposer un
diagramme pour une pense aussi toile et digitale que l'est
l'vidence la pense de Montaigne148. Les occurrences du terme
"mlancolie" semblent pourtant dessiner, travers les adjonctions
successives, un itinraire flch: parti d'une dfiance l'gard de la
mlancolie (la rencontre avec le Tasse), Montaigne rinter-prte
progressivement le Problme 30, 1 d'Aristote, inflchissant la thse
du gnie dans le sens d'une gnrosit qui, sans rien per-dre de son
"inquitante estranget", agirait comme le transport heureux (ou la
mtaphore) de la pulsion gntique.
En 1580, toutes les allusions la mlancolie dnonaient la
destruction du lien gnalogique, qu'il s'agisse de l'"humeur
melancholique" d'un tyran-pdagogue (164), de la misanthropie du
Doyen de S. Hilaire, ou mme encore de l'attitude "estrange" de
"cette pie pensive, muette et melancholique" qui, dit
l'"Apologie", tait cause par "une estude profonde et une
retraicte en soy-mesmes, son esprit s'exercitant et preparant sa voix
representer le son des trompettes" (465). A cette priode,
Montaigne rpugne d'ailleurs se diagnostiquer lui-mme
comme sujet l'humeur noire: "Je suis de moy-mesme non
melancholique, mais songecreux" (87), les "mille agitations
indiscretes et casuelles" qui se produisent chez l'essayiste ("Ou
l'humeur melancholique me tient, ou la cholerique; et de son
authorit prive, cet'heure le chagrin predomine en moy,

148

La mise en garde d'Yves Pouilloux, Lire les Essais de Montaigne, 1969,

p. 118 (les Essais se rduisent au "plaisir d'crire l'inanit humoristique des
penses humaines"), est pertinente. Reste que cet humour a, dans l'uvre, une
histoire dont le fil conducteur pourrait bien tre la mlancolie.

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Olivier Pot

cet'heure l'alegresse") (566) n'ayant aucune pertinence "auctoriale". Au reste, la mdecine ne "pert-elle pas son latin"
vouloir trouver le sens d'une maladie "parmi tant de complexions, au
melancholique (...), tant de mutacions celestes, en la conjonc-tion de
Vnus et de Saturne" (782)?
Mais en 1588, le "piteux estat" du Tasse amorce un retournement: loin de faire de la "stupidit" un idal, Montaigne
dcouvre que la mlancolie"cette teinture vicieuse" qui est
l'origine de "la meilleure bont que j'ay"est une tonalit ou
modalit du corps, une saveur particulire du physiologique dans
l'exercice de la pense, "ton gauche de mixtion humaine, mais ton
obscur et sensible seulement soy". S'"il y a du dessein, du consentement et de la complaisance se nourrir en la melancholie"
(674), c'est que la complexion tmoigne d'une complexit
psychophysiologique o l'humeur se spiritualise dans un
"humour" vitaliste. Aussi, inspir sans doute par les thories de
Bodin149, Montaigne n'hsite pas s'attribuer en consquence un
temprament moyen: "J'ay la complexion, (B) entre le jovial et le
melancholique, moiennement (A) sanguine et chaude" (641),
concept repris du Problme 30, 1 (le "mixte idal"), mais pour
certifier cette fois que la scne originelle de la naissance a t
parfaite ("mais le lait de ma nourrice a est Dieu mercy
mediocrement sain et temper"). C'est cette condition que le corps
pourra signifier (la science physiognomique aide dsormais
distinguer "les malicieux des chagrins, les desdaigneux des
melancholiques, et telles autres qualitez voisines") (1059), et que
s'abolit la distinction entre nature et art, entre complexion
gntique et nature gnreuse comme chez ces comdiens qui,
"encore qu'ils s'esbranlent en forme emprunte, toutesfois, en
habituant et rengeant la contenance, s'emportent souvent tous
entiers et reoivent en eux une vraye melancholie" (838). "Une
vraie mlancolie": de fausse qu'elle tait au dpart, l'humeur est
devenue, pour Montaigne, le signe du gnie chez l'acteur-auteur

149
L'essai "Nous ne goustons rien de pur" suit la thorie des climats
expose par Bodin dans la Mthode de l'histoire: le temprament idal - celui de
la France en l'occurrence est un "mixte", un "compos" entre la mlancolie des
peuples du Nord et la nature sanguine des mridionaux (cf. la note p. 673 et en
gnral F. Lestringant, "Europe et thorie des climats la fin de la Renaissance",
in La conscience europenne au 15e et 16e sicle, 1982, pp. 206-226).

L'Inquitante estranget: la mlancolie de Montaigne

301

matre de (se) jouer (com)plaisamment de ses humeurs. "(B) Ayje besoin de cholere (...) Je l'emprunte et m'en masque"1021150.
L'dition posthume de 1595 contiendra encore deux allu-sions
la "mlancolie" qui retracent en raccourci le parcours accident
de l'humeur dans les Essais. Si la dgnrescence con-tinue encore
passer pour le fait de "quelque complexion solitaire et
melancholique" (164), la mlancolie n'en conditionne pas moins
ncessairement, par son action psychosomatique, la fiction de
plaisir ou le plaisir de fiction capables "d'inspirer et infondre au
corps tout le ressentiment" de l'esprit. Comme le dit l'essai "Sur des
vers de Virgile" consacr en ralit l'rotisme de la lecture:
(B) [Le texte amoureux] me divertiroit de mille penses ennuyeuses,
(C) de mille chagrins melancholiques, (B) que l'oysivet nous charge en
tel aage (...); (B) reschauferoit, au moins en songe, ce sang que
nature abandonne; soustiendroit le menton151 et allongerait un peu les
nerfs (C) et la vigueur et allegresse de l'ame (B) ce pauvre homme
qui s'en va le grand train vers sa ruine (893).

Mais n'est-ce pas aussi que les concetti peuvent ractiver, par leur
consanguinit avec la conception du corps, la zone rogne
primaire? Si l'amour n'existe "proprement et naturellement en sa
saison qu'en Vaage voisin de l'enfance" (895), un "flux de caquet, flux
impetueux par fois et nuisible" peut constituer un "notable
commentaire" (et combien spirituel et gratifiant!) sur le mystre d'une
sexualit omniprsente et polymorphe152. Jouant de la

150

De l'enfance improductive ne subsiste finalement que ce "gnie"

d'acteur: "(B) Mettray-je en compte cette facult de mon enfance: une
asseurance de visage, et soupplesse de voix et de geste, m'appliquer aux rolles
que j'entreprenois? car avant l'aage (...), j'ai soustenu les premiers personnages
s tragedies latines (...) et m'en tenoit-on maistre ouvrier" (176).
151
Cette notation n'est pas sans rappeller la posture mlancolique de la
"main au menton".
152
Sur l'quivalence entre sexualit et bavardage (ou langage) chez le
mlancolique, cf. Aristote, Problme 30, 1, d. Pigeaud, p. 98: Des mlancoliques,
quelques uns sont "enclins l'amour, facilement ports aux impulsions et aux
dsirs; quelques uns aussi sont bavards plus que d'usage [laloi mallon]". Le vieillissement mlancolique devient ainsi l'alibi d'une rotisation de la parole qui
assume l'authenticit des Essais: "(B) Je dy vray (...) et l'ose un peu plus en vieillissant, car il semble que la coustume concede cet aage plus de libert bavasser
et d'indiscretion parler de soy" (806).

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Olivier Pot

similarit lexicale et humorale entre "mlancolie hroque" et

"mlancolie rotique"153, Montaigne aurait-il alors renonc tre un
Hroscomme le voudrait la "mlancolie gniale" du Problme 30,
1pour devenir Eros tout entier? C'est aussi qu'au regard du plaisir
rotique et pervers de la parole, "les masles et femelles sont jettez
en mesme moule" (897 B)154.
Universit de Genve

153

Cf. P. Duminil, "La mlancolie amoureuse dans l'Antiquit", in La Folie

et le Corps, 1985, pp. 91-110.
154
"Un jeune homme qui, introduit dans un chur de jeunes filles, avec ses
cheveux flottants et ses traits indcis, pourrait tromper sur son sexe les yeux les
plus clairvoyants des personnes qui ne les connoissent point" (895 B). Montaigne
ne se contente pas de citer ces vers d'Horace: la volupt honte qu'il prend
son "flux de caquet" le fait rver d'tre cette jeune fille qui, chez Catulle, rougit de
plaisir et de honte en laissant choir de son sein la pomme donne par son
amoureux (897 B). Chute (accidentelle) ou (feinte) maladresse qui ralise la
jouissance travers la seule manifestation de ses signes.