Showing posts with label Essays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Essays. Show all posts

Thursday, February 24, 2011

Montaigne, Essays: On Cannibals, On Repentance, On Experience

Without question, out of the texts we have read in Lit Hum, Essays is the one most relevant to my life, the one to which I feel the most personally connected. Perhaps it is simply that it is the most modern of our readings thus far, but I found Montaigne's insights on how to live and the human condition poignant and pertinent. 
The picture Montaigne paints, particularly in the final essay, of human values, is markedly different than what we have seen in Dante, Boccaccio, Augustine, or certainly the earlier Homeric tradition. Montaigne's value system is deeply rooted in an individual's inner acts, private actions, and sense of justice rather than public opinion. For example, he points out that "Many a man has been a wonder to the world . . . Few have been admired by their servants" (240). It is more laudable, more difficult, and more rare, to be judged as good by the ones who see you on a day-to-day basis. Montaigne continues on to explain that "the worth of a soul does not consist in soaring to a height, but in a steady movement" (241). In both of these quotes, individual worth is derived from consistent, basal goodness rather than extreme displays of glory or even large scale acts of benevolence. Nowhere else have we seen this sort of value judgment, but I entirely agree that it provides a more accurate and honest picture of an individual's morality. Because "good" is derived from an individual's consistent, smaller actions, Montaigne comments on the failure of society to properly evaluate individuals, lamenting that "my honour and my life depend on the skill and care of my lawyer rather than on my innocence" (352). Because an individual's public image is so much less telling about their morality than their private actions, Montaigne is suggesting that legal and social systems cannot provide any true insight into or judgment.

Beyond this internal evaluation, Montaigne's views on what constitutes "goodness," especially with regard to physicality and pleasure, are novel. While Augustine and Dante condemn pleasure, and see physical bodies and the accompanying lust as something that must be escaped, and Boccaccio revels in lust and physicality, Montaigne aims for a happy medium. He recognizes the futility of trying to escape basic human desires, and points out that because they are part of nature, and nature, having been made by God is inherently good, there is nothing shameful or problematic with desire and physicality. His extensive descriptions of his own physical habits emphasize their value, and he even says that "bodily delights, like bodily sufferings, are the more rational" (395).  Rather than trying to repress these things, Montaigne notes, "I generally give in to those appetites that are insistent. I allow my desires and inclinations authority" (369). While Christian theology requires repression of what seem to me to be large parts of natural human emotion and consciousness, Montaigne recommends that "we too must accept the good and evil that are consubstantial with our life. Our existence is impossible without this mixture, and one side is no less necessary to us than the other" (374). To me, this balance represents the value set most conducive to a happy life out of all those we have seen, hovering in a pleasant intermediate between deprivation and excess. Montaigne accepts the individual as a whole, reveling in mankind's flaws. In his view, the best humans can do is to exist as they inevitably are, and enjoy life in all its glory and flaws. Personally, I loved Montaigne's final comment that "the man who knows how to enjoy his existence as he ought has attained to an absolute perfection" (406). Unlike previous literature's focus on the afterlife, be it the Homeric concern with personal glory, or the Christian conception of hell, Montaigne recognizes that life is fleeting, and deems a perfect life one that has been enjoyed. Personally, this is the philosophy that I subscribe to- what is the point of living life without enjoying it, if you only live once?
Though it may seem that Montaigne's recommendation to relish in life's pleasures might lead to a chaotic, gluttonous and corrupt society, the view he presents of human tendencies counteracts this fear. In his view, "These testimonies of a good conscience are pleasant; and such a natural pleasure is very beneficial to us; it is the only payment that can never fail" (238). He believes that humans are innately drawn to and take pleasure in good rather than evil, again, a perspective very different from Augustine or Dante. I'm not sure whether this was a prevailing view in the time of Montaigne, or what the cause was of the shift, but again, I personally like to believe that this is true. 

Relating to this more uplifting depiction of humanity, Montaigne, somewhat contrarily, presents a relatively dismal picture of the capabilities of the human mind and his own intelligence. Montaigne declares, "I speak as one who questions and does not know . . . I do not teach, I relate" (237). By casting himself as lacking exceptional knowledge, Montaigne places himself on the level of humanity he describes more generally, thus extrapolating his own lack of wisdom to all other individuals. Later, Montaigne explicitly points to the inability of the human mind to attain perfect wisdom, because "connectedness and conformity are not to be found in low and commonplace minds, like ours" (358).
From this paradox of intrinsic human goodness and intrinsic lack of wisdom, it seems that "good" as Montaigne sees it is unrelated to knowledge, or perhaps even exists more easily in its absence. This extremely opposes Plato equation of wisdom with the highest good, though it aligns slightly with Augustine's insight that wisdom is insufficient (or maybe even a barrier) to becoming close to God. 

On a different note, I wanted to make a few comments about the essay On Cannibals. I thought Montaigne's comment that "we all call barbarous anything that is contrary to our own habits. Indeed we seem to have no other criterion of truth and reason" (108) was particularly insightful. In the Greek and Roman literature we have read, there is a strong concept of "barbarians" as lesser human beings, but Montaigne recognizes instead that humans in fact are unable to make this type of value judgment, because our own ideas of "truth and reason" are unavoidably clouded and influenced by the society into which we were born. This recognition seems to mark a shift towards a more equalized view of humanity,  though I do not know enough about the historical context to say whether this is the case. I was also struck by the fact that in what Montaigne describes as an extremely simple, uncorrupted society, the only two values are "valour against the enemy and love for their wives" (111).  Love for wives seems to fit well with Montaigne's positive characterization of humanity, but the fact that the most basal society's main focus is on war seems bizarre. The nation's cannibalism is described as "a measure of extreme vengeance" (113). The prevalence of vengeance and brutality here seems initially to cast humanity in a less positive light, but, upon closer examination, it is apparent that the people of this society are content. Perhaps, then, the relatively happy balance between love and war, two things that would ordinarily be judged as good and bad, in the society of cannibals mirrors the appropriate balance between and cooexistence of good and evil in individuals that Montaigne advocates as the path to a happy, good life.


Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Montaigne, Essays: To the Reader, On Idleness, On the Power of the Imagination

In reading these first few essays, I was intrigued by the difference between Montaigne's purpose and that of Boccaccio, Dante, or earlier authors we have read. In his statement "To the Reader," Montaigne expresses that he is writing not for personal glory or for "serving you" i.e. the reader, but rather so that his family can remember him. To me, this is the least hubristic and most selfless motive thus far, and additionally, most reminiscent of dedications on more modern works, which are often to family members or friends. In his essay on the imagination, Montaigne provides additional insight into his intent. He is notably unconcerned with hard facts and explicit truth, proclaiming that "fabulous incidents are as good as true ones" (46). This is logical given that his purpose  "would be to tell what might happen" (47) rather than to record physical events. He is interested in patterns of human behavior, rather than explicitly in facts and concrete events. As my mom says, "I'm not interested in facts, only opinions," which seems quite similar to Montaigne's perspective. However, Montaigne in a way redefines what truth actually is: he says that because he doesn't invent examples, "I surpass the most faithful historians in scrupulous reverence for truth" (47). In this view, anything that is naturally thought up by a human mind is a form of truth, but examples concocted for didactic purposes are not. I'm not sure whether this perspective marks a more general shift from interest in history to interest in philosophy, but it is nonetheless notable. A final observation regarding Montaigne's purpose is his lack of hubris. Much as Boccaccio deemphasizes his own talent, Montaigne states, "I have no proper skill in composition or development" (47). This humble statement echoes his earlier claim that he is writing only so that his family can remember him, rather than with the intention of preserving himself and his honor through his writing (as Ovid does).

Related to Montaigne's views about truth are his insights on imagination. I found it interesting that he describes the transformative power of imagination, such as a man turning into a woman on his wedding say, or a bullfight spectator sprouting a horn (38). While Ovid describes love as a transformative power, Montaigne's depiction of imagination's ability to create physical change shifts the emphasis from love, a somewhat external force, to the immense power of the human mind. On the other hand, Montaigne comments on our inability to control physical organs, particularly libido, saying "Does it always desire what we wish it to desire? Does it let itself be guided, either, by the conclusions of our reason?" (43). By commenting about the almost complete lack of control we have over our physical bodies, Montaigne draws attention to the limitations of human consciousness. In this way he is somewhat similar to Augustine: human intellect is not enough. The prowess of human intellect is further diminished by Montaigne's inclusion of animals in these descriptions. He says that "even animals can be seen, like us, to be subject to the power of the imagination" (45). Montaigne doesn't hesitate to draw parallel between us and animals, unlike in previous works in which a comparison or transformation of human and animal marks a regression to baseness and loss of civilization. According to him, imagination is not a uniquely human ability, and animals have a level of consciousness similar to humans and volitional power of imagination as humans (ex. the cat who can kill the sparrow just by looking at it, 46). On the flip side of this, our inability to control our desires is also shared with animals.

On a different note, Montaigne's views on trickery are very different than Boccaccio's. He says, "I am enemy to all subtle deeds of deception . . . if the action is not wicked, the way to it is" (41). In this view, the ends do not justify the means, because Montaigne places so much weight on the power of thought and imagination. It is logical that because he is more concerned with ideas and behavior than with events themselves, he would judge trickery more harshly regardless of the outcome because it represents a perversion of what he views as most important.

One final comment on the essay "On Idleness": I was somewhat shocked by Montaigne's description of how "women, of themselves, sometimes bring forth inanimate and shapeless lumps of flesh, but to produce a sound and natural birth must be fertilized with different seed" (26). After reading Boccaccio, in which women are equally capable of complex thought, if not socially equal, to men, this seems to represent a regression in the views of women.