Tag: Michel de Montaigne

an oil painting showing a poet struggling to write a poem

Journal (There were never so many poetasters as now)

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski2 Comments

“Since Ronsard and Du Bellay have given reputation to our French poesy, every little dabbler, for aught I see, swells his words as high, and makes his cadences very near as harmonious as they: ‘Plus sonat, quam valet.’ [‘More sound than sense’—Seneca, Ep., 40.] For the vulgar, there were never so many poetasters as now; but though they find it no hard matter to imitate their rhyme, they yet fall infinitely short of imitating the rich descriptions of the one, and the delicate invention of the other of these masters.” (from The Essays of Montaigne—Volume 05 by Michel de Montaigne, translated by Charles Cotton)

Reading his words, I wonder what Montaigne would say about the state of poetry in our times, as not only has it evolved in form but it has also democratised, and today in France alone, probably more people write poetry than were educated in that country in his time. But reading this passage, I feel that they are as relevant now as they were then. If I happen to stumble upon a poem, especially one published online, I almost never find any satisfaction in reading it, let alone being impressed, and that’s also why I’ve stopped writing poetry myself. But enough about that because the sun finally came out after the storm Babet, so it’s time to go outside.

surreal oil painting showing a person translating text from one language to another

Journal (The art of translation)

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

Translation is a tricky endeavour, and you can easily spot the problems if you happen to know both the language of the original text and of the translation, as it happened for me in the case of Diary by my favourite Polish intellectualist, Witold Gombrowicz, which I have in two editions, original and translated into English, and frankly, I’m not particularly fond of the latter.

This particular text aside, it’s one thing if the root of the problem lies in semantic equivalence, but it’s something else entirely if contortions, whether accidental or intentional, come into play, as in the quotation from Cicero’s Tusculanæ Disputationes that I found in The Essays of Montaigne—Volume 05 by Michel de Montaigne, translated by Charles Cotton. “Hanc amplissimam omnium artium bene vivendi disciplinam, vita magis quam literis, persequuti sunt.” is translated as “They have proceeded to this discipline of living well, which of all arts is the greatest, by their lives, rather than by their reading.”

Apart from the fact that in the original this is not an independent sentence but the conclusion of a longer one, it has misspelt two words since the original text is “hanc amplissimam omnium artium, bene vivendi disciplinam, vita magis quam litteris persecuti sunt.” (Tusculanae Disputationes, M. Tullius Cicero, M. Pohlenz, Leipzig, 1918), and in translation by Charles Duke Yonge, for example, it reads as follows: “yet promoted this most extensive of all arts, the principle of living well, even more by their life than by their writings.”

Someone might accuse me of nitpicking details, but I see fundamental differences between “proceeded” and “promoted”, and “their reading” and “their writings”.

oil painting showing a happy philosopher

Journal (A soul that lodges philosophy)

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

It would be nice to be seen as funny for a change. Perhaps if I were actually jovial and had someone around to appreciate that, it would be easier to fulfil that little whim of mine. But there is more to it. As Montaigne said, “The most manifest sign of wisdom is a continual cheerfulness; her state is like that of things in the regions above the moon, always clear and serene.” What I need is a soul that lodges philosophy. “There is nothing more airy, more gay, more frolic, and I had like to have said, more wanton. She preaches nothing but feasting and jollity; a melancholic anxious look shows that she does not inhabit there.” (from The Essays of Montaigne—Volume 05 by Michel de Montaigne, translated by Charles Cotton). And although Montaigne said the latter about philosophy itself, I consider it a perfect description of the soul I desire.

an oil painting showing a young woman visiting a foreign country

Journal (To sharpen your wits)

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

I know it’s just grammar, but English sometimes makes me feel uncomfortable due to the constant repetition of words, especially personal pronouns. In my native language, this would be considered a failure of style. But perhaps me being pernickety is just a smokescreen by my shallow mind in denial, and even if every now and then I do happen to have a thought that might be worth sharing, I’m too afraid to do so because every important aspect of life is a subject to controversy, and I’m terrified of conflict. Of course, I could always lean on the crutches of institutional authority, as I did in my journalism days, but this helps only in the professional sphere—personally, I’m a chicken.

Perhaps it’s a matter of my upbringing. I must admit that reading the Epistles, the thirteenth book of The Good Book, in my late forties was something of a revelation, and I deeply regretted not having known its contents in my youth. The problem is also in the fact that the modern education system we are put through is neither in a position to fill the shortcomings of parenthood nor pursue master-disciple-style mentoring. In reality, it’s more like a grinder or lawnmower for shaping an efficient and reliable workforce.

What’s left is self-education. But here lies the problem—you can’t do that alone. As Michel de Montaigne rightly noticed, “conversation with men is of very great use and travel into foreign countries; not to bring back (as most of our young monsieurs do) an account only of how many paces Santa Rotonda—[The Pantheon of Agrippa.]—is in circuit; or of the richness of Signora Livia’s petticoats; or, as some others, how much Nero’s face, in a statue in such an old ruin, is longer and broader than that made for him on some medal; but to be able chiefly to give an account of the humours, manners, customs, and laws of those nations where he has been, and that we may whet and sharpen our wits by rubbing them against those of others.” (from “The Essays of Montaigne—Volume 05” by Michel de Montaigne, translated by Charles Cotton) I especially agree with the idea of travelling to foreign countries because I have first-hand experience with its power and how it changes your perspective and way of thinking. It’s a pity it didn’t happen until I was thirty.

oil painting of a thoughtful man sitting in a room

Journal (It’s not me—it’s the world)

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski2 Comments

Montaigne said that as our birth brought us the birth of all things, so in our death is the death of all things included. But with that in mind, why would I trouble myself with death if it’s not me who died—it’s the world that ceased to exist? And shouldn’t those rather laugh at the end of this spectacle who cried at the beginning, especially if they might have already outlived their purpose?

Here, in the Western world, death has a particularly bad press—if mentioned at all—but you can’t avoid it if you ask about a happy life, since, to follow Ovid in Metamorphoses, we should all look forward to our last day: no one can be called happy till he is dead and buried (from The Essays of Montaigne—Volume 03 by Michel de Montaigne, translated by Charles Cotton). But sometimes, just like everyone else, I ask myself: Was—or is, as I’m still alive—my life a happy one? The problem is, I’m not even sure what that actually means—a happy life. I would say adequate. It’s like the dust on my desk—sometimes I wipe it off, but most of the time I get along.

We value human life exactly because it’s so frail and because it eventually ends—because of death. What would happen to that respect once death was gone?

an oil painting in the style of René Magritte showing a faceless couple ready to get married

Journal (Love is blind)

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski3 Comments

Montaigne said that “in all republics, a good share of the government has ever been referred to chance. Plato, in the civil regimen that he models according to his own fancy, leaves to it the decision of several things of very great importance, and will, amongst other things, that marriages should be appointed by lot;” (Montaigne, 2004).

Let’s think about that last part for a moment. Apart from the fact that these were supposed to be temporary marriages made at festivals to orchestrate eugenic breeding (Brake, 2021), the whole idea is not without some merit. Our Western culture embraces the idea of marriage for love, but keeping in mind that there is a good chance that it ends in divorce or makes couples unhappy over time (DePaulo, 2013), I’m not convinced that it actually works very well. There is a saying in my native language that perfectly fits that hunch: love is blind, and marriage is the best ophthalmologist.

So why not leave the whole affair in the hands of fate for a change? Who knows, maybe we’ll have better luck in this case than with choices made under the influence of the hormonal storm in our brains. Of course, I realise that this is not actually feasible outside of a thought experiment, and I can see many things that could and most likely would go wrong—I’m not that naive—but I also have a feeling that there is a chance for something good in this as well. Besides, we already use dating app algorithms for matching, so is this really that much of a difference?

Because what is the alternative? Suffer in silence with this stranger whom we call our spouse out of habit, or finally come to terms with the idea that marriage is only a temporary matter and establish this state of affairs legally by creating fixed-term marriage contracts, for example, for a decade, with the possibility of extending them for another period if both parties wish so.

References:
Brake, Elizabeth, “Marriage and Domestic Partnership”, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Fall 2021 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/fall2021/entries/marriage/
DePaulo, Bella, “Marriage and Happiness: 18 Long-Term Studies”, Psychology Today (15 May 2013), https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/living-single/201303/marriage-and-happiness-18-long-term-studies
Montaigne, Michel de, “Essays of Michel de Montaigne—Complete”, Project Gutenberg (2004), W.C. Hazlitt (ed.), C. Cotton (transl.), https://gutenberg.org/files/3600/3600-h/3600-h.htm

oil pastels painting of a woman reading at the table

Journal (Never lonely)

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

Reading, generally speaking, is a solitary endeavour, and apart from an occasional marginalia or folded page corner, there is very little that connects you with other readers—nothing beyond the awareness that other lonely souls have also touched these pages. Or so you might think.

Although I love the unique sensation of touching paper, I also appreciate the new opportunities offered by modern technology. For example, my e-book reader displays highlights made by other readers along with information about how many of them found the particular fragment important—the following quote, for instance, has been highlighted fifty-one times: “So it seems that the soul, being transported and discomposed, turns its violence upon itself, if not supplied with something to oppose it, and therefore always requires an object at which to aim, and whereon to act.” (from The Essays of Montaigne—Volume 02 by Michel de Montaigne, in translation of Charles Cotton)

And just like that, I know that there are fifty-one kindred spirits somewhere with whom I can connect in thought. So perhaps when you read, you are alone. But never lonely.

oil painting of two friends talking at a table in a cafe

Journal (Forgive me)

Published on by Maciej Modzelewski1 Comment

I envy Étienne de La Boétie. Not only was he himself a man of many virtues, but he was also endowed with a great friendship, which lasted long after his untimely death, with another great Frenchman, Michel de Montaigne. Reading Montaigne’s letters published in William Carew Hazilitt’s 1877 edition of the Essays is moving proof of this.

I have always been touched by friendship, something I’ve never really experienced myself. I remember how fascinated I was reading the correspondence between Stanisław Lem and Sławomir Mrożek, or by the traces of friendship with Jerzy Giedroyć that I found in Witold Gombrowicz’s Diary (it turns out that their letters were also published—the book is certainly worth reading, so I have to add it to my list).

Unfortunately, the one time I had a chance for this type of connection, I ruined it due to my own artificiality of style. No sane person would agree to correspondence clearly conducted with publication in mind. I don’t even know what I was thinking then. This was back when online literary forums were popular. At one of them, I met someone who was a kindred spirit and also a literary scholar. He appreciated my poetry, and when I wrote a satirical drama, he simply loved it. After the forum was closed down, we kept in touch via e-mail, but when, after reading Mrożek’s and Lem’s letters, I started my strange styling, he fell silent. I regretted it, but the damage was done. I guess I wasn’t ready for a real connection with another human being—it was all just a stage play. Stupid really.

We have this saying in my native language: A Pole is wise after the damage. It’s a pity that the damage is required. What can I say other than forgive me, Piotr?