…the house I live in…

“Monsieur de Montaigne drank of the said water eleven mornings, nine glasses each for eight days and seven glasses each for three days, and bathed five times. He found the water easy to drink and always passed it before dinner.” 

The first third of so of the travel journals were written by Montaigne’s secretary, an individual whose identity has been lost to history. These sections consist of much banal information such as I share above. Still, I find it interesting in that it gives us an accounting of how Montaigne moved through the world during his travel adventure. The essence of his travel can be summarized on three accounts: to find a cure for his kidney stones, requiring an itinerary to take advantage of as many spas and baths as time and geography afforded. Secondly, to see and visit the churches of Europe. In doing so he visited not only Catholic churches and monasteries, but Protestant too, as well as a synagogue. “The same Thursday morning Monsieur de Montaigne went to the church of the Lutherans….Here he met with two old ministers….” Too, he witnessed a circumcision while interviewing Jewish elders. “We also saw the Jews, and Monsieur de Montaigne was in their synagogue and had quite a talk with them about their ceremonies.” And lastly, to pay homage to the pope in Rome, where, coincidentally he witnessed an exorcism, the priest telling Montaigne “that this devil was of the worst type, obstinate, and would cost a lot of effort to cast out.”

The real time observations of the secretary have delighted Montaigne enthusiasts for centuries. The reporting affords us a birds-eye view of Montaigne on the move. 

“…the pleasure he took in visiting unknown countries which he found so sweet as to make him forget the weakness of his age and of his health….for his mind was so intent on what he encountered, both on the road and at his lodging, and he was so eager on all occasions to talk to strangers…” And this curious yet lovely observation: “He was not going anywhere except where he happened to be, and that he could not miss or go off his path, since he had no plan but to travel in unknown places.” 

I simply love that phrase: he was not going anywhere except where he happened to be…” That seems to sum up Montaigne. It speaks to his openness and his unwavering acceptance. He was so obviously an adventurer, an individual given to the journey, not the destination, in both the literal and figurative sense. Everything was subject to his lazer-like attention, his broad openness, and his insatiable curiosity. Life is a journey and he understood this more than most. 

One highlight of the trip, Montaigne relates, was visiting the Vatican Library where, “a large number of books attached onto several rows of desks; all opened to me; lots of books written by hand, and especially a Seneca and the Moral Essays of Plutarch.” I cannot imagine his excitement at seeing an ancient book of his beloved Seneca and Plutarch. And this: “I saw a book by Saint Thomas Aquinas in which there are corrections in the hand of the author himself, who wrote badly, a small lettering worse than mine.”

He had, upon arriving in Rome delivered a copy of his Essais to the Vatican. This was a necessary custom practiced by authors who wished to avoid a visit by authorities of the Pope. The Vatican held the book four months and returned it him with several suggested amendments. They did not like the word “fortune” for instance, as it suggested something other than divine providence. Montaigne pursued the review with a senior Church official who told him that the objections were not serious, that indeed, the assignment to review the book had been given to a French frair who was not particularly competent. Montaigne noted in his journal that “It seemed to me that I left them well pleased with me.” Ultimately, Montaigne ignored the suggestions. Some have made much of this rebuff, a defiance of the Inquisition. But nothing more came to pass of it.

The secretary recounts that Montaigne “found three things lacking in his travels.” One, he was annoyed that he did not bring along his personal cook–not because he was a finicky eater but because be was enjoying the new cuisines and regretted that his cook could not learn the recipes. Second, that he had not hired local guides along the way. And lastly, “that before making the trip he had not looked into the books that might have informed him about the rare and remarkable things in each place.”

I will finish my review of the travel journals in the next post. 

Thanks for reading.